“I’m assuming he’s the crocodile guy? The one who eats his own followers?”
Fazel stiffens. I’ve hit a nerve. “Yes,” he says after a long pause.
“Excellent. Bring him in and let’s get this over with.”
He gives an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t a joke, Iyla. You have no sense of self-preservation.”
I give a sharp laugh. He’s more right than he knows.
“Look, we both know how this goes. Let’s just skip all of the steps where you threaten and I cower, and instead go straight to me telling your leader everything he wants to know. Then we’ll see if he still feels like killing me.”
Fazel sits on the edge of the bed, and the movement makes me wince in pain. His face softens. “I’m trying to help you,” he says. “Why do you always have to be so difficult?”
“Always? We’ve only spent one day together.”
“And you were prickly. Except for when you were trying to woo me—to get information on Chipkali, I assume?” He sets the lantern down on the floor, and I can no longer see him clearly.
“Of course,” I say. “Not that it worked.”
“Yeah, well, the truth serum didn’t work either, so I guess we’re even.”
I gasp and sit forward so hard that my ears ring. “You actually gave me truth serum?”
His laugh is low and soft. “No,” he says. “I’m only kidding.”
“Oh.” My chest constricts. I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or mocking me. I wish I could see his expression. I have the urge to reach for him in the dark, to touch his face and see if he’s smiling. The impulse makes me hate myself, and I push the thought away. Fazel is threatening to turn me over to someone who he’s sure is going to kill me, so how he feels about me is probably the last thing I should be concerned about. And yet every time I see him, I can’t help myself. He gets under my skin in a way no one ever has before.
But I can’t let him distract me. The only thing I can think about right now is finding a way to convince the Crocodile King to let me go. I have to get back to the Naga palace and warn Marinda. She’s in danger every moment that she spends with Balavan, every second she thinks he’s only a man.
“So when do I meet with your leader?” I ask. “I assume he wants to question me before he scarfs me down?”
Fazel grabs my leg just below my knee, and I let out a startled gasp. His fingers dig into my skin. “Stop it. You can’t make comments like that to Chipkali or he won’t even hear you out before he kills you.”
I pry Fazel’s fingers from my leg. His hands are warm, and I have to force myself to let go. “Yes, yes,” I say. “I get it. Your leader is very scary. Can I see him now, please? It’s important.”
Fazel stands up. He snatches the lantern from the floor and lifts it to face level. His eyes are tight. “It’s the middle of the night,” he says. “Chipkali is sleeping. But if you’re so determined to see him, I’ll make sure he visits you first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I say.
He studies me for a moment without speaking. His brow is furrowed. His shadow pools in the space between us. “Don’t thank me,” he says. He turns and walks toward the door. His fingers close around the knob, but he doesn’t leave. He stands motionless for several long seconds, like he’s wrestling with a decision. Finally he clears his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says without looking in my direction. “If you’re still alive.”
I open my eyes to a room brightened by buttery slices of sunlight. It’s the only warmth my accommodations offer—this little bit of nature that creeps between the bars on the windows and stretches across the floor and up the walls. The rest of my surroundings are grim. I’m in a square room with a dirt floor and stone walls. The mattress I’m lying on is filthy and rests on top of a crude wooden platform.
My body aches as I crawl out of bed. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I put a palm against the cool stone wall to steady myself. I squeeze my eyes closed and take a few deep breaths. At least nothing feels broken. Once I regain my balance, I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of my damaged body. I gasp. Purple bruises bloom along my arms and legs. Blood wells in dozens of scratches.
Any thoughts of escape drain away. If it wasn’t clear before, it is now. My only hope of survival is to convince the Crocodile King that I’m worth keeping alive. No small feat for someone who devours his friends. I shudder to think what he does to his enemies.
As if on cue, something behind the door rattles. I can hear the drag of heavy chains, the clink of metal, and then, finally, the handle turns and the door swings open.
Chipkali strides into the room. He’s larger than he looked when I saw him from the tree in the clearing. His shoulders are broad and strong, and his face is covered in a thin layer of stubble, as if he came here straight from bed without bothering to shave first. He wears his dark hair longer than many of the other men on the peninsula; it’s gathered at the base of his neck and tied with a thin leather cord.
Chipkali’s gaze finds mine and cuts through me like a shard of broken glass. “Fazel tells me you requested to see me.”
I swallow. “Yes.”
“Are you brave or stupid?” he asks. His voice is gravelly and harsh.
“Probably both,” I tell him.
He folds his arms across his chest. “Go ahead,” he says. “Try to save yourself.”
“Balavan sent me to spy on you,” I say. I try to stand tall, to appear confident despite my injuries. “But I’m not willing to die for him. I have valuable information that I think you’ll want to hear.”
His eyes narrow. “Valuable information? You think I don’t have my own spies?”
“Do you?” I ask. “Ones that are in the Naga’s inner circle?”
His lip curls, but he doesn’t answer the question. He holds my gaze for several moments, and I resist the urge to take a step back. “This is one of Balavan’s oldest tricks,” Chipkali says. “Sending in spies who get captured on purpose and then promise they have valuable information. Instead they learn what they can from us, and at the first opportunity they take off in the night.” He crosses the room until he’s looming over me. His voice goes quiet. “It’s not the first time Balavan has done this.”
Dread curls in my stomach and I shake my head. “That’s not what happened,” I say. “I didn’t get captured on purpose.”
“Sure you didn’t,” he says. “But let me ask you this: what kind of spy falls out of a tree?”
“It was an accident,” I say. “My boot slipped.”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “And yet your boot didn’t slip until you were close enough to the ground that the fall wouldn’t be life threatening.” He turns to walk away. “It was a good try,” he says. “But not good enough.”
“Balavan is coming to kill you,” I say.
“I doubt that very much,” Chipkali says over his shoulder. “But if he wants to, he’s welcome to try.”
“He’s already killed the Tiger Queen.”
At this Chipkali freezes. He turns slowly. “You lie.”
“It’s true,” I say. “Bagharani is dead, and so are many of her followers. Balavan sent me to find the relic so that he can take you out next.”
Finally the smug self-assurance slips from his face. His jaw tenses. He flexes the muscles in his hands—fisting them so tightly that his veins bulge—over and over again. Then he steps into the hallway and speaks to the guards outside my door. I strain to hear his words.
“Send a team north to check on Bagharani,” he says. “I want to know if she’s dead or alive. And tell the rest of the men to get ready to move. Our location has been compromised. We need to be ready to leave by nightfall tomorrow.”
He steps back into the room and fixes me with a stony gaze.
“If you’re lying to me,” he says, “I’ll kill you in the worst possible way. I’ll make sure you suffer before you die.”
Until this moment I wouldn’t have bel
ieved how sweet a threat could sound, how full of hope. Because no matter what his men find out about Bagharani, the information has bought me more time.
“Of course,” I say. “I would expect nothing less.”
And I hope that Marinda was right about Balavan killing the Tiger Queen. My life depends on it.
Maybe the path lit by the growing moon wasn’t a clear enough clue. Maybe Deven doesn’t know that I meant to retrace the journey we made out of Bala City to the palace in Colapi City when we were racing against time to save Mani from the Nagaraja.
I was hoping he’d find me quickly, but I’ve been walking for two days now without any luck. I stop only when absolutely necessary—to use the snakes to help me steal foods I can eat on the move, chole bhature or vada pao. Or to catch a few hours of restless, shivering sleep at the base of a devil tree while the snakes stay on high alert for approaching danger. I have no idea if Balavan is searching for me, but I can almost feel his presence like a pressure at my back. It drives me forward when I barely have energy to put one foot in front of the other. I wish I’d thought to ask Deven for a key to the safe houses just in case I ever needed to flee. I’d give anything right now for a warm bed and a door with a lock.
As I trudge through valleys and over hills, I can’t help but remember the last time I made this journey. How desperate I was to get to Mani, how helpless I felt. And here I am again on the same path for the same reason. The futility of the last few months gnaws a hole in my gut. I’ve accomplished nothing except putting Mani in danger yet again. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to leave him? Why did I think I’d be able to take down the Snake King when the Raja himself couldn’t do it?
The snakes squirm in my bag and reach for my mind. Jasu reflects my exhaustion back to me. The burning sensation in my eyes. The way each step feels like dragging bags of heavy sand.
I can’t stop, I tell her. But her worry falls across my mind like a shadow. I keep walking. A few minutes later my vision fractures. I stumble. Jasu’s alarm clangs inside me as loudly as a dropped pot on a stone floor. Maybe the snakes are right. Maybe if I don’t stop on my own, my body will stop for me.
I search for a place to rest out of sight, but the landscape before me is nothing but open field. No matter where I go, I’ll be easily noticed if anyone passes by. Not that I’ve seen another human in hours. Finally I give up and collapse on the spot. I rest my cheek on the cool grass, pull my knees to my chest and let my eyes slide closed.
I dream of Deven.
His voice is petal soft as he calls my name. His palm is warm against my cheek.
It’s the same dream I’ve been having since I left him months ago. Some part of my mind knows it’s not real, but still, I want to luxuriate in the sensation of being with him, of his skin against mine, so I don’t open my eyes.
“Marinda? Marinda, please wake up.”
His voice catches on the words, and it makes him sound young. Vulnerable. Desperate. This isn’t how the dream usually goes. My eyes flutter open.
Deven leans over me, one hand on the side of my face and the other cradling the back of my head. His eyes are wild.
“Deven?” The word scratches my throat.
Relief floods over his face. “Oh,” he says, his voice shaky. “Oh, thank the skies.”
“Are you really here?” I ask. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. “You got my message?”
“That message.” He groans. “Marinda, what were you thinking? I’ve been searching for you for days, panicked that you were dead or captured. I’ve been on every moonlit path from here to Colapi City. What’s the point of giving me information if I can’t understand it?”
I frown. “I was trying to be cryptic.”
“Well, congratulations,” he says, “you succeeded.”
I flinch and Deven’s face softens.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “That came out more harshly than I meant it. You just scared me.” He puts a hand on my back and helps me to my feet. A chilly wind whips through my hair and I start to shiver. Deven pulls me close and I fit my body against his. His warmth makes me realize just how cold I am.
“How is Mani?” I ask.
Deven presses a kiss on my forehead. “He’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Let’s get to a safe house and we can talk there, okay?”
I want to argue. I want to demand information about Mani now. I want to confess all of my worries, to give them to Deven one by one like stones from a bucket and let him carry them for a while. But I’m tired, and the promise of a shower and a warm place to sleep is a temptation I’m not strong enough to resist.
And I hope Mani will be safe without me for just a little while longer.
I’m barely coherent when we make it to the safe house, but a few hours later—after a nap, a meal and a shower—I finally feel like myself again. It comes at a price, though. The food and warmth have crystallized my thoughts, have shaped my anxiety about Mani into a sharp blade of fear.
I emerge from the washroom, dressed in clean clothes and drying my hair with a towel, to find Deven stretched out on one of the beds, staring at the ceiling. His expression is thoughtful and faraway. I watch him until I can’t bear it anymore, until the need to connect with him is stronger than the pleasure of being able to study him unnoticed. I clear my throat, and he turns onto his side and props up his head with his elbow.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a faint smile. “So what happened? Why did you leave the Naga palace?”
The question makes the muscles in my stomach tight. “Balavan has someone watching Mani. Someone who’s seen him recently.”
Deven sits up. “No,” he says. “That’s not possible.”
I perch on the edge of the bed. “It’s true,” I say. “I’m sure of it. He talked about how Mani wasn’t sleeping.” I swallow. “He described the hollows under his eyes.”
Deven shakes his head, pulls on the back of his neck. And I can’t help it, my gaze skips to the satchel propped against the wall. All five snakes are coiled at the bottom of my bag, out of sight, but alert and ready. I reach for their minds and they reach for Deven’s. A series of images flash through his memory—all of the people Mani interacts with each day. The cook who prepares his meals, the servants who clean his room, the woman who tutors him in writing, reading and geography. None of them seem like spies.
“I believe you,” he says. “I just can’t think who it could be.”
Guilt twists in my stomach. It’s an invasion to search Deven’s mind. And the fact that he’s telling me the truth makes me feel even worse.
“We have to get Mani out of the palace,” I say. “I can’t take the risk.”
Deven nods. “Of course. We’ll leave at first light.”
He puts his arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, savoring the feeling of being together again. I sigh and close my eyes. But when I open them a few seconds later, Deven is looking at me differently—his gaze is soft and his pupils are wide. He strokes my cheek, and my heart stutters. My face heats beneath his hand. He trails his knuckles slowly down my neck, traces the contours of my collarbone with his thumb.
Our lips meet and I melt against him.
Every inch of me sparks at his touch, as if my entire body is made of fireflies. His fingers sink into my hair. All my other thoughts slip away until there’s only Deven. Only this moment.
I draw him closer to me, and our kiss deepens. I trace the light stubble along his jaw, find the hollow at his throat. I wonder if being with him will always feel like this—the rush of heat, the sense of weightlessness.
Suddenly Deven freezes. He puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me away. The rejection feels like a fist in my stomach, and my eyes fly open. But Deven’s not even looking at me. His eyes are lowered, his face taut with alarm. “Don’t move,” he says. I follow his gaze to the floor, where Jasu is looping herself around my ankle.
“I can kill it,” he says softly. “But I need you to hold still.”
Deven’s expression goes slack. “What do you mean, she’s yours?”
“Well,” I say, “technically, I stole them from Balavan, but I’ve raised them since they were hatchlings, so it feels like they belong to me.”
“Them?” he says. “They?”
My cheeks flame. “There are four more snakes in my satchel.”
His expression shifts into something inscrutable, and the air between us chills.
“I can explain,” I say, though I’m not sure I can. “It’s a long story.”
Deven stands up and rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s late,” he says. “We should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
I clutch a handful of the bedspread in my fist. “They’re just babies,” I say.
His mouth is a thin line. He’s looking at me like I’m a stranger. “Maybe,” he says. “But they’re still snakes.”
I lie awake long after Deven’s eyes have fallen closed. Long after his breathing has grown deep and loud. If he’s angry that I even have the snakes, what would he think if he knew I could use them to see his thoughts?
I tried all evening to resist the temptation to snoop through his mind again. The snakes kept feeding me images—flashes of anger, snippets of concern. Each time they showed me Deven’s thoughts, I gently pushed them away. No, I told them. Not now.
But then one of the snakes pushed an image into my mind that sent a slow pulse of dread through me—Deven’s memory of Jasu wrapped around my ankle, along with his niggling worry that maybe I deceived him. That maybe I’m on the Nagaraja’s side after all.
Stop, I told the snakes. No more. And they tried to obey. But I’ve trained them too well—searching through minds is now a reflex. It’s not easy for them to quit.
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