A Crown of Wishes

by Roshani Chokshi

  As I walked past the banyan tree, figures stepped out of the shadows. The Nameless.

  The first one hissed. “You stole the Serpent King’s venom.…”

  The second one snarled. “That was not yours to take. We made the trade first. We bought his venom and enchantment with the cost of our own names. That venom was meant for us, as it has been for every Tournament.”

  I crossed my arms. “He has more. Go get your own.”

  The third looked off to the side. “He only gives one vial every hundred years. Those are his rules. This is the last Tournament. We need it.”

  The second spoke. “It is not the way of fairness—”

  I laughed. “Fairness? Not even the gods promise fairness. This is a competition. We figured out the riddle. We fought. The end.”

  “Careful, girl,” said the second. “You have no knowledge of the game you play. Everyone here has a story to tell. But some of us have more at stake. Some of us have magic in need of replenishing. And some of us will do whatever it takes to ensure that our wishes come to pass.”

  As one, they reached for the blue ribbons at their throats. Murmuring to themselves, the Nameless melded into the shadows. Silence draped over the courtyard. I felt as if the world had sewn up her secrets, gathering every bit of magic and hiding it elsewhere for tonight. No patrons formed lines outside the vishakanyas’ tent. No Otherworldly beings partook in any revels or sampled the strange foods of the feast tables. I was alone.

  When I got back to the room, I shook the snow out of my hair and stamped my feet. Vikram was slumped against the cushions, a book propped on his knee, a bandage wrapped around one arm and his shirt … not on him. An amber glow from several nearby lanterns threw his lean muscles into relief. From the training exercises and ends of battles, I’d seen plenty of men’s bodies. There were some who made me wish I’d looked a little longer. And there were others whom my memory was still trying to purge. The Fox Prince didn’t look anything like them. His skin was dark gold, unbroken and unscarred. His silky black hair looked wild. He didn’t hold himself like a soldier, alert and tense. He was all languid elegance and knowing grins. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and looked at me, thoroughly amused.

  “Well?”

  I wrenched my gaze from him and stared at the vial instead. “On my way back, those Nameless women found me. They’re furious because they want the venom.”

  “So do half the yakshas and yakshinis,” he said, putting aside the book. “It’s a competition. What did they expect?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “What do they want with the venom anyway?” he mused, rubbing his jaw.

  He reached once more for his book. Instead of his shirt.

  “Did you run out of clothes?”

  “No?” He looked down, as if just noticing that he was partially exposed. “I had to bandage some of the cuts I got after running back here.”

  “But you have your bandages on now.”

  “Astute as ever, Princess. Am I offending your maidenly senses again? Can I not luxuriate in a single evening without the threat of bodily injury?”

  “Could you do it with more clothes?”

  “Why does it matter to you?”

  I threw up my hands. “What if I manifest vishakanya abilities and accidentally touch you and then you die or something?”

  He leaned against the cushions. “Try it.”

  “Why would you openly invite death? You should be scared that I’d touch you.”

  “Quite the opposite.” His eyes flashed. We stared at each other. Neither of us broke eye contact.

  One …

  Two …

  Vikram burst out laughing. “Nothing? Still? One day I’ll make you blush.”

  “Keep trying.”

  I rolled my eyes, ignoring that second of disorienting weightlessness, and walked over to the window overlooking the courtyard. A light frost coated the grounds of Alaka, and I saw where my footprints had formed divots in the earth. Tomorrow, the enchanted snow would steal away any evidence that I had ever walked there. What awaited me on the other side of Alaka was no different. Time would greedily lick up any step or imprint I tried to press into the world.

  But for the first time, I wanted to believe in the things that outlasted us: the stories that came to life in a child’s head, the fear of the dark, the hunger to live. Those were the footsteps that not even Time could discover and erase, because they lived far out of reach, in the song of blood coursing through veins and in the quiet threads that made up dreams. I wanted to hold the hope of those tales within me and follow it like a lure all the way back to myself.

  29

  TO SHARE YOUR SHADOW

  GAURI

  The morning of Jhulan Purnima dawned pink and cold. The air felt different from the way it did the day we left for the Serpent King’s pool. Not crackling with magic, but taut as a drawn bowstring. As if the world hung in a balancing act, equally tugged by fire and ice, fervor and calm.

  Vikram paced around restlessly. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, watching him. Before I could say anything, he walked forward and placed a piece of parchment in my hand.

  “He wants to see us.”

  Kubera. My heart sank.

  “I’ll get ready.”

  He nodded and then pointed to some breakfast items on the table beside me. “I went downstairs and got you some food. Everyone is … preoccupied today. And they’re dressed in finery, so do with that what you will.”

  I raised an eyebrow. A terse and agitated Vikram in the morning? Had we switched bodies overnight? I looked down at myself. A blanket covered my body and a pillow rested beneath my head. I hadn’t fallen asleep with either of those things. I was going to thank him, but he had begun to pace again. He kept patting the drawer with the half-key of immortality and, now, the Serpent King’s venom.

  “Did you say everyone is dressed in their finery?”

  “Yes, but they’re—” He hesitated, making a strange wheel with his hands. “—together. Of a kind. They dressed for someone obviously. So it doesn’t matter what you wear. Honestly, you might as well go wearing that.”

  I was wearing a plain cotton spun salwar kameez, I had no makeup on and my hair was a ragged braid hanging down my back. Just because I’d been attacked, threatened, poisoned and deprived of an entire week did not mean it had to show on my face. I threw off the blanket, cast what I hoped was my most imperious face at Vikram and stalked off into the baths.

  Today might be a holiday, but it was also the day before the second trial. Even if the Tournament had to skulk and sulk from the edges of the day, it was still there. The menace of it was a subtle beast, eyeing us sideways, and my armor needed to match it, so I turned to the stealth and power of beauty. In the harem, Mother Dhina never let me rush through the preparations of the day. Her advice was always the same: “Dress as if you are the mirror of your hopes, and the world will do its best to match you.”

  I selected the most beautiful dress I could find. The front was a cluster of intricate pearl beading and crystal thread. Around my neck, I had disguised Maya’s sapphire pendant with a number of teardrop necklaces and silver chains. My cosmetics were just as elaborate. Pearl dusted on my cheeks. Lips and cheeks reddened. Eyes darkened. I stepped back and admired my talismans. I hadn’t allowed myself this luxury in what felt like an eternity. I was fixing the slightest smudge on my cheek when I heard a violent knocking on the door.

  “Are you waiting for the next full moon? You realize the Tournament will be done by then, yes?” called Vikram.

  “Calm down.”

  “I am turning ancient.”

  I stepped outside. He opened his mouth to speak. Saw me. Closed it.

  “Are you so ancient you’ve turned to stone?”

  He straightened. “Are you planning to seduce your way into winning?”

  “Envy doesn’t suit you,” I said lightly, stepping past him and taking the lead down the staircases.
<
br />   He hurried after me. “Not envy. If I could seduce my way into winning, I would. In fact, I considered wearing your outfit, but chest hair lacks a certain feminine charm.”

  “You have far more obstacles to appearing charming than chest hair.”

  A number of small candles bloomed in front of us, winding their way through the graceful crowd. A guide from Kubera. No one turned to witness the small flames. But perhaps that was because each person was too distracted. We had to push our way through clasped hands, gripped waists, knots of lovers with lips buried into the hollows of necks and fingers skimming bare arms.

  Walking on hot flames and polished knifepoints would have been far less uncomfortable than battling our way through enamored limbs. I knocked aside a couple of errant arms and tried to throw daggers from my eyes when a particularly amorous couple blocked a doorway.

  “Honestly,” I muttered.

  Before long, we stood before the great double doors of a grand hall. Vikram moved to open the door. I steadied his hand. Last night we had talked about what to do with the Serpent King’s vial. Assuming we saw Kubera or Kauveri today, did we hide that we had the venom or tell them immediately in the hopes of bargaining a second exit? We decided not to say anything. No one could begin to guess how the minds of the Otherworldly rulers worked. What if they made the second task that much harder once they found out we had the venom?

  “Remember not to say anything,” I murmured.

  “I don’t have a death wish.”

  We pushed open the doors and found a sparsely polished hall of gray stone. Nothing at all like the usual ornate embellishments. Kubera and Kauveri sat on opposite sides of a great swing that fell from the ceiling. Kubera wore a tailored sherwani of frosted blue and Kauveri wore a sari made of a frozen river where parchment-thin sheaves of ice floated across her garb. Around them, fragrant garlands of moon-bright lotuses, silk birds and shimmering ribbons arrayed the swing.

  “Ah, you are alive!” said Kubera warmly. He patted his stomach.

  Kauveri eyed us shrewdly.

  Her sister’s tearstained face caught hold of my thoughts. Did Kauveri know what we were hiding? What we knew? I looked closely at her. A river goddess had no flaws. At least nothing discernible to the mortal eye. Yet something felt muted about her, the kind of restrained energy of someone who was exhausted.

  Beside me, Vikram forced a smile and bowed. “We are full of surprises, Lord Kubera.”

  Kubera grinned and bounced a little in his throne. “You certainly astounded me. I dearly wish to know where you disappeared to for a week! A new land, perhaps? Or even—”

  Kauveri raised her hand. “Today is not for trials.”

  “But tomorrow is!” laughed Kubera.

  “My lord, why did you ask to see us?”

  “Curiosity, mostly. But also to remind you that the second trial starts tomorrow. You retrieved half the key to immortality after fighting through poisonous desires. What makes us outlast everything? The eternal is not solely a fight through desire. It is a fight through fear. I have never known fear, but I imagine it is like having no tongue to taste victory and filling your stomach with snow.” Kubera shrugged, placed his chin in his hand and looked at us with an expression of pure boredom. “But perhaps the desire to see something through is half the battle.”

  I did not like how any of that sounded. A fight through fear? What did he think battling through a horde of poisonous courtesans was? A stroll through a tent? Vikram glared at me, and I tried to school my expression into a blank mask.

  “Thank you,” I said, bowing slightly.

  Kauveri leaned forward, her eyes locking on to us. “Enjoy yourselves, dear champions. Alaka is yours to roam, yours to conquer. Sink your teeth into our gold. Lay waste to our palace. Perhaps find someone to share your shadow with by the end of the night because then the world is yours for the taking.”

  A mist rose out of the ground, washing over the pair. When the mist cleared moments later, they were gone. We were alone. Kauveri’s last words rang starkly through my thoughts: This was a day for lovers and last pleasures before fear threatened to steal away everything. I clenched my jaw. The festival prodded at every thought I had tried to push far away from me. I was balancing on an edge: caught by what I shouldn’t want and what I wanted anyway.

  At the door, I turned around to find Vikram standing far closer to me than I imagined. Tall and lean, sly brown eyes shot through with gold. He did something to me.

  I know you … I saw you.

  In Bharata, I guarded myself. Weakness was a privilege. It divided you, snipped out your secrets and gave every sliver of power over you. I didn’t have parts to spare. Bharata called me their Jewel, and maybe I was like one. Not sparkling or precious. But a cold thing wearing a hundred faces. Like facets on a gem. One for every person.

  But Vikram had seen through every facet, holding me against the light as if I truly were translucent, and instead of making me feel as if I had been looked through and found wanting, I felt … seen. My eyes dropped to his hand. Even through the fugue of that poisonous sleep, I remembered his touch. Reverent and dream-soft. I remembered how he looked at me when I woke up, the way you behold the sacred—not with your eyes demure and half lidded, but with wide-open awe, gratitude and even a touch of greed because one sight will never be enough.

  It was unburdening and freeing. And distracting. I only had to think of Arjun’s betrayal and Nalini’s imprisonment to remind myself why I was here. And why I wasn’t.

  “I plan on searching through Alaka’s gardens and rooms,” I said. “Maybe I’ll find something about how to use the half-key that we have.”

  “I’ll do the same,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

  “I’d prefer to search alone.”

  His expression turned a shade colder. “I never said anything about wanting to join you.”

  Oh, I thought, feeling irrationally stung.

  “In the evening, perhaps we can report back on what we’ve found. Unless, of course, you’re otherwise occupied with the festivities.”

  Vikram’s eyes narrowed. “The same goes for you. If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you are otherwise … occupied.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  “Enjoy your night.”

  He smirked. “I will.”

  I spent the rest of the afternoon not analyzing what “I will” meant while I walked through Alaka’s palace. If there was a secret arena or space where the next trial would take place, I had no luck finding it. Instead, everywhere I looked, love and companionship stared back at me. Everything had softened. A fine layer of frost iced the banyan tree. Frozen rain droplets clung to its limbs, diamond-bright and glistening. Tiny swings and wind chimes hung from its branches, so that the world was a thing of ice and music. A ghostly tent drifted across the grounds, shedding strange objects—an hourglass filled with pearls that drifted backward, crystal phials that danced over themselves and spilled music, miniature swans the size of thumbnails and horses made of enchanted rose petals that galloped through the trees.

  I didn’t resent the lovers all around me, but it was impossible to ignore that chasm opening inside me. I felt as if I were standing over it, my toes moments from the edge. Would it break or strengthen me to fall? In Bharata, there was no temptation to fall. Now I felt that quiet panic of knowing something was within reach and not knowing whether to snatch it or let it go.

  In uselessly circling Alaka’s grounds, I found myself staring at the vishakanyas’ tent. No patrons stood in line. No guards flanked the entrance. And not a single plume of smoke rose out of the grand peacock tent. A small branch snapped behind me, followed by gentle footsteps that I instantly recognized.

  “Here to join our ranks?”

  Aasha stepped out of the trees carrying a bundle of twigs full of flowering branches.

  “Maybe in my next life,” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “Experimenting,” she said. “I rea
lized the forest outside our tent was also immune to our touch, so I’ve been exploring. Look!” She dropped the branches and plucked a blossom off one of the ends. She pressed the blossom to her cheek and sighed. “It feels … better than silk. I wish this wasn’t the last Tournament. I’ll never have this chance again. What are you doing?”

  “Trying to find some clues to the next trial.”

  She shot me a knowing gaze, and I knew she was sniffing out whatever desires I chose not to utter. I watched as she lifted a blossom from her cheek, eyeing it with narrowed eyes.

  “Aasha, I would not—”

  She stuffed the flower in her mouth. Her eyes widened. She spit it out, groaning. I couldn’t help but start laughing, which made her laugh, and in no time we were doubled over in laughing fits.

  She sighed. “Some experiments are, I admit, better than others.”

  “Why is no one lining up at the tent today?”

  “Today is for true things,” said Aasha, stroking the petals. “Not imitations. It is not so bad to have a break from patrons, but it does mean that the Tournament of Wishes is almost over. After Jhulan Purnima, the only thing left to celebrate is the Parade of Fables and then … and then there is nothing in my future but poison.”

  A pang of pity went through me. Aasha sighed.

  “But it is worth it. I have done something I dreamed of.”

  I almost wished Aasha could come back to the human world, just to experience what she was and was not missing. I couldn’t help but admire someone who wanted for nothing, but pursued knowledge out of curiosity and for the sheer love of learning. She was a lot like Nalini in that way, always moving and never quite satisfied. And just like Nalini, she was also trapped. The smile fell from my face.

  “What did you say was after Jhulan Purnima?”

  “The Parade of Fables,” said Aasha. “It is when the Lord of Treasures showcases all the stories that have grown in his halls.”

  The story birds, I thought. Kubera loved his tales. He said it was because stories were the greatest treasure, but did he just want to collect them or was there something more?

  “I wish to see it someday,” said Aasha quietly. “But vishakanyas are never allowed inside the palace.”