“Even the ones who die?” I asked, sharpness creeping into my voice.
“What’s a story without a bit of death?” said Kubera, grinning. “I’ve always loved tales of broken lovers who roam through countrysides singing their stories of woe and separation, their honey-sweet longing for the next life when they can suddenly be reunited. It makes other people happy, you see. It makes people grateful that it hasn’t happened to them. I like making people happy!” Kubera clapped his hands. “Well, I should not keep you. Enjoy the celebrations,” he said. “And if you do nothing else, give me a tale worth telling. Worth keeping.”
When we left, I turned his words over in my heart. Kubera might want to harvest a story out of our trials, but he’d let something slip: A story had no ownership. A story could break its bones, grow wings, soar out of reach and dive out of sight in the time it took just to draw breath. It meant we weren’t walking a cut path. We carved it into existence with every step.
22
NO TOUCHING
AASHA
Aasha hadn’t slept last night. Instead, she snuck off to sit at the end of a stone path that connected the courtesans’ tent to a running stream. Bright green grass flanked the path, taunting her. Her fingers ached to feel the ground. Would grass feel hard and cold, like glass? Or would it yield like a gossamer thread, soft and fragile, before snapping abruptly beneath her palm? Experience stilled her hand. Any living thing she touched blackened and shriveled. She didn’t even dare to dip her feet in the water out of fear for any hidden wildlife.
Aasha stood and walked back to the tent. Soon, she would have to meet Gauri and the human boy. Part of her thrilled to spend time in human company. Even last night, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Gauri. The way she was breathless and brittle and reckless. Aasha wanted to look like that. Like something alive.
Sometimes Aasha strained her memory to the days before the vishakanyas collected her, but all she could recall was a rain-washed field and warm hands rubbing coconut oil into her scalp. Those wisps of the past told her nothing. The other part of Aasha felt nervous about meeting them. Even her sisters seemed worried. Since last night, they had been treating her like a glass doll.
“It can’t be that bad,” Aasha said, when one of her sisters tried, once more, to stop her from meeting Gauri. “We were once human after all, so—”
“Never say that in this tent,” said one of her sisters. “We may bleed and birth the same way, but that is where the similarities end. We are different. Only we carry the Blessing in our veins. They do not.”
After promising to keep their counsel, Aasha hurried to the banyan tree. She caught sight of them as she walked up the hill. Gauri stood tall and fierce. She held herself as if she were made of nothing but knife points, so sharp that Aasha cast a glance at her shadow, wondering if she had torn it to strips just by standing above it. Beside her stood the boy who had disguised himself as one of them. He was handsome, with a face and figure that some of her sisters would have wanted to touch regardless of his desires. He leaned against the banyan tree, easy and graceful, but with a keen brightness to his gaze, as if he could see more than most.
Gauri walked forward. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up.”
“A being of the Otherworld always keeps their word.”
Gauri only lifted an eyebrow. As if to say, We’ll see. “This is Vikram.”
The boy flashed a smile.
Aasha sniffed the air cautiously, tasting their desires and searching for any threat to herself. But their desires had not been greedy or lust-filled. At least, not lust directed at her.
“You said there was something the Lady Kauveri wants from the Serpent King. What is it?”
“Venom.”
Surprise flickered on Gauri’s face. “Why would anyone want a naga’s venom?”
Aasha had never been one for gossip. She’d always been the one at the edges of the room, listening to her louder and more excited sisters as they traded news from the Night Bazaar. It never seemed wise to talk about other people. But she had given her word to help the humans. And she felt rather proud of herself in that moment. No one wanted her killing or enchanting touch. They wanted information, and it cost her nothing to give. Even better, she had control over what information to divulge.
“It is said that whoever possesses the venom of the Serpent King can control him.”
“Why would she want to control him?” asked Vikram.
Aasha was about to answer when Gauri cut in, her voice low and harsh—
“For vengeance. To retaliate for some wrong,” she said. She looked at Aasha. “Am I correct?”
Aasha nodded. “They say he kidnapped the Lady Kauveri’s sister and forced her into marriage. It wouldn’t be the first time that a demon naga would do such a thing.”
“Is he a demon?” asked Vikram.
“He’s a descendant of the cruelest of all the demon nagas. Kaliya.”
Gauri’s expression darkened. “How do we get his venom?”
“I’m not sure,” Aasha admitted. “But first you have to get access to his kingdom. There is a pool on the far side of the orchard that bears his crest and invitation.”
If her sisters were here, they would have told her that she had done all she needed to and dragged her home. But Aasha lingered. The moment she returned, her world would fall back into its ordered chaos. She would keep her elbows tucked at her side when she walked so that nothing living brushed against her skin. Night after night, she would unspool a person’s desire, slaking her hunger and trying to forget that the moment the beings left her arms, they would touch someone they loved, place food upon their tongue that would keep flavor and never turn to ash, maybe even sink their hands into the dirt simply because they could. Not yet. Not yet.
“I can take you?” she offered.
23
THE SERPENT KING’S INVITATION
GAURI
Aasha unnerved me. She stood too close. In war, the bulk of a soldier proved its own quiet threat. But Aasha wasn’t taking up space to show that her presence was deadly. She stood and leaned toward us with a keen-eyed want. Not hunger. Not lust. I had seen both in the eyes of a vishakanya. This was something else. I didn’t trust her want, whatever it was.
Before I could tell her no, Vikram drew me away.
“If you’re going to tell me to trust her, this is a good time to remind you that you were knocked unconscious by her while we were nearly killed by her sisters.”
“I’m not contesting that.”
“Then why did you pull me aside?” I asked. “We can find this pool ourselves. She offered information in return for mercy. We’ve both kept our word. The end.”
“Maybe she could be of more help,” he said. “She knows this place far better than we do. And she wants something. Can’t you see it in her eyes?”
“I can, which is why I don’t think she should be trusted. What if she’s just hungry?” I pointed at the two of us. “She can’t help but want to touch us. And if she does that, we die.”
“I can’t help being irresistible.”
“A raksha didn’t even think you were worth ten goats and a cow.”
He scowled. “Leading us to a pool doesn’t place us in her immortal debt, Gauri. Sometime it’s more efficient to trust people and ask for help.”
“That sounds wonderfully efficient until the day you find a knife pressed against your throat.”
“Have some faith.”
“Between faith and distrust, which one is more likely to keep you alive?”
“And which one is more likely to let you experience living?”
I threw up my hands. “Why is everything so philosophical with you?”
He shrugged. “I like thinking.”
“After she gets us to the Serpent King, that’s it. We wish her well. The end.”
Aasha was waiting for us when we returned. As we walked to her, the sunlight caught the underside of the leaves, illuminating her features into such
heartbreaking loveliness that I found it hard to believe any man would welcome her into his bed without suspicion. But then I remembered the dumbstruck look on Vikram’s face when he first saw Aasha. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a flicker of envy. But envy did not make one lovelier. Mother Dhina had taught me that. Beauty, coveted though it was, could not outlive you. Only actions would. I never forgot that. In the harem, I might’ve disliked some girls for the ugliness in their hearts, but never for the beauty of their faces.
Aasha led us back through the courtyards. I expected strange glances like the ones from yesterday, but the Otherworld was too preoccupied in its own tasks. A horse with a translucent belly trotted past us. Between its ribs, pinpricks of light winked around a miniature alabaster city. The ground shuddered as a bull-aspect raksha dug a hole with its horns. Beside him, disembodied hands torn off at the wrists reached into the hole, tossing out dirt and carrying clumpy roots. The three feast tables from yesterday had nestled closer to the ground, their wooden legs tucked beneath them as if they were resting. The magic of Alaka felt tame. Even the air carried no fragrant seduction. No childhood memories nuzzled the back of my thoughts or tried to lull my heart from racing. All I could smell was damp, upturned earth and a trace of fruit on the wind.
When we left the feast tables, a hidden grove sprang into view. Dazzling trees sprawled in every direction, their limbs tall and spindly, reaching into the sky as if to etch their names onto the world. There were trees of gold and trees of bone. Trees where instruments swayed gently like musical fruit. Trees where letters were pinned to the trunk, scrawled in handwriting too distant to decipher.
I looked behind us, checking the perimeter for any sign of the Nameless. If they knew we had any clue where to find the Serpent King, they might have been spying on us. Or plotting something worse.
“What do you know about the Nameless?” I asked.
Aasha frowned. “I do not know of them. Then again, this is my first and last Tournament of Wishes. I am only newly one hundred.”
“I hope to age half as well,” said Vikram.
“Do they not live as long in the mortal lands?” asked Aasha.
“Well, not as long as that,” I said. “Half the children of Bharata have no names because they have not lived long enough to prove that they can carry it well into adulthood.”
“So you are very old then?”
I laughed. “I guess. I’m eighteen.”
“A child,” breathed Aasha, her eyes widening in wonder. “And your mate?”
The tops of Vikram’s ears turned red. “Eighteen.”
I immediately tried changing the subject. “I don’t understand why Lord Kubera would even invite the Serpent King to the Tournament if the Lady Kauveri hates him so much.”
Aasha only shrugged. “Any Otherworld being who played in a previous Tournament is always invited to play in the next game. Most of the Otherworld is invited, but some choose not to come because they know their presence will only inspire fear. The Lord of Treasures even invites the Dharma Raja and the Queen of Light. Can you imagine what would happen if they came?” She shuddered. “Nothing but chaos. Although I heard they sent a gift since they would not attend.”
We walked in silence as Aasha stepped expertly around the strange groves. In the distance, water smoothed over rocks. Frost hung in the air, and a fine mist spilled over the tree roots.
“What do you eat?” asked Aasha suddenly. The question broke from her as if she could no longer fight the strength of it.
I eyed her. What if she wasn’t staying close because she was angling to feed our desires or hurt us? What if she was just … curious?
“Fruits, vegetables—” I said.
“Sometimes a human if you have no choice,” added Vikram.
Aasha looked startled.
“I read that somewhere,” he said defensively.
“Don’t tell her that!” I hissed, turning to Aasha. “It’s not true.”
She flashed a smile, but it looked more like a wince. “And you may leave from your home at any time?”
Longing filled her voice.
“Not anytime. It just depends what your responsibilities are and who you are.”
Aasha nodded, but I could tell that answer had only created a thousand more questions. The longer we walked, the more the trees changed, tapering off into clumps of straggling saplings or growing sparse and skeletal. A pool of milky white water wound through the land like a slender ribbon. We followed it until we came to a still pond. Not even the trees kneeling around the water’s edges cast a reflection. Enchantment burned in the air, creating pockets in the sky that peered into different worlds altogether.
“This is the entrance to his kingdom?” asked Vikram.
He stepped forward, leaning over the pool, and immediately jumped back.
“What is it?”
“There’s writing in the water.”
“That is the invitation of the Serpent King,” said Aasha. “If you solve it, he will grant you an audience. Otherwise you must catch him when he chooses to surface.”
Aasha and I joined Vikram beside the water’s edge. Here, even the sky seemed different—gray and drained of color. Not a single cloud moved in the sky, and the light mist from earlier had thickened into smoky claws that scraped across the earth.
To one it is invisible
Yet be careful if you lose much
To some it is everything
A history to clutch
Though it is life, it cannot buy time
Speak wrong, and I will take it as mine
I groaned. “Another riddle?”
Vikram grinned and immediately tented his fingers together. Aasha looked fearful.
“I would not speak before this pool,” she whispered. “If the Serpent King is in a foul mood, he may take even your musings as an answer. And you have only to look around you to see the result.”
The mist folded back upon itself, revealing a boneyard on the opposite bank. I stepped back, my ears pricked for any sign of the water rippling or branches cracking around us. Nothing happened. I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought Vikram would be comforted too, but the boneyard had transfixed him. He refused to look anywhere else for a long while. Only when I tugged on his elbow did he step away from the water’s edge. Once we were a safe distance away from the pool, Vikram folded his arms, gaze fixed on the ground.
“There were bones there,” he said hoarsely. “People have died trying to get to the Serpent King.”
“Maybe it’s just a morbid decoration.”
He whirled around to face me. “This is not a joke, Gauri.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he said tersely and gave his hair a quick tug.
Aasha eyed us knowingly, but if she could somehow read his thoughts, she did not speak his secrets. As we walked back to Alaka’s courtyard, the sun had begun to set. A crowd of raucous yakshas had gathered near the entrance of the groves. The moment they saw Aasha, a drowsy grin slid onto their faces.
“Come here, beauty,” one of them sang. “Let us touch you.”
Instead of threatening or maiming them, which is what I would have done in an instant, Aasha seemed to stumble. She shrank a little on herself. I glared at the yakshas, but I wasn’t going to risk fighting with a magical being unless I had no choice. Instead, I walked to Aasha’s other side. I was a flimsy barrier against magic, but it was better than nothing. Vikram stayed where he was.
“They won’t attack you?” I asked.
“They might. It has happened before,” she said quietly. “But for them to reap any pleasure from the desires I summon, I would have to want to touch them.”
“Then there’s no reason for them to attack you. Don’t be scared.”
I didn’t know why my first instinct was to protect her. She was a thousand times deadlier than I’d ever be. But her face when she saw the yakshas tugged at my heart. I’d seen that expression whene
ver the harem eunuchs announced Skanda’s visits. It was worse than fear. It was hopelessness. It warped a person’s face—flattening their eyes, crimping their lips into grimly determined lines. I recognized it. And I hated it.
“That’s not why I am scared,” said Aasha. “They don’t need to force me. They always know that I will want their desires just as badly as they want to be shown them.” Aasha reached up and delicately traced the blue star at her throat. “I don’t want to want their desires. But it is my sustenance. And they know it.”
I shuddered. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“It is the way things are.”
“It shouldn’t be,” said Vikram.
When we got to the banyan tree, a group of workers had already begun to assemble the vishakanyas’ tent. This time, the tent resembled a peacock. Gold talons dug into the earth, and a tail the size of a village swept out as a grand carpet and entrance, speckled with sapphire and emerald. Silver and gold threaded through the false feathers, and the design of the bird’s neck arched in a graceful welcome.
“Thank you for your help,” said Vikram.
Aasha nodded. “My words are my honor.”
She left afterward, disappearing down the hill and into some unseen quarters where the vishakanyas presumably took rest before entertaining the crowds of Alaka. I turned to Vikram. He had been quiet since he’d read the riddle of the Serpent King.
“Are you well?”
“Yes,” he said, but his voice was biting and none too friendly. “Those bones … I just can’t shake them from my head. I hadn’t realized … that is to say I had forgotten about death.”
“After all we’ve been through, you’re just now becoming concerned about dying?” I almost wanted to laugh.
He lifted his gaze to mine. “It just feels different now.”
Now it was my turn to fall silent. I stared around us. The setting sun had carved out the world into a landscape of gems. Hills red as garnets. Pools full of sapphire fire. And the people had also been transformed by the falling sun. Whatever light remained in the sky seemed to race eagerly to illuminate Vikram. If I hadn’t known him, I would have thought he was some Otherworldly being who had come to try and steal something from me. Like my voice. Or the memory of my first kiss.
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