“But there is,” Nisha said. “You don’t understand. But I’ll come back, I promise.”
Stefan’s eyes narrowed, and something hardened in his face. “Is this about that nobleman I saw you with?”
“What?” Nisha stared at him. Had Stefan been spying on her?
“I told you, I saw you outside the walls. I was making sure you were safe,” Stefan said. “So I hid and watched, and you came. I almost killed that boy for putting his hands on you. But I thought you might be pretending, trying to gain a protector. That was good. Don’t tell me you actually care for that soppy wretch.”
“And what if I do?” Nisha answered, her temper kindling. “What if I love him?”
Beside her, she felt Josei draw a breath, but the fox-woman stayed silent.
“Love?” Her uncle spit out the word. “Do you even know what the word means? Those Flower people—” he said the words with disgust. “They displaced us and condemned us to wander for five hundred years. And they claim privileges they should not have because they ‘saved’ the Empire. From us! I should have stuck my dagger into him when I had the chance.”
Nisha felt dizzy and sick. It seemed the Kildi had rules as unyielding as the ones that governed the City of a Thousand Dolls. She took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly.
“I know the nobles overthrew you. I understand why you would hate them. But Devan … he’s not like that. He has nothing to do with why I’m really going back. I have to go back to help a friend who’s in trouble.”
“You can’t help,” Stefan said evenly. “Those people twist children the way a spinner twists thread. Everything they touch rots. No girl who lives there could be uncorrupted.”
Hurt sliced through Nisha, as sharp and as unexpected as a thin blade in her back. “Not even me?” she asked, her voice quiet. “I was there for ten years.”
Her eyes met her uncle’s, and he flinched. His broad shoulders slumped. “Don’t you want to stay?” he asked.
Nisha swallowed. “Yes.” And she did. But she couldn’t sacrifice the people she cared about just to keep herself safe. She tried to explain—after all, her uncle clearly believed in loyalty too—but her tongue was heavy and slow, and the words would not come.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, lifting her eyes to Stefan’s angry stare. ”I can’t. Not right now.”
Stefan’s hands clenched into fists. “Fine. Go back to your friends and your noble lover and your precious City. Forget your family and your blood. But know this: No true child of the Kildi would go back.” He paused, turning from her. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”
Stefan stomped away. The crowd of Kildi who had been watching with silent faces melted back into the camp.
Nisha watched them go, feeling numb. She was unbearably tired, wrung out like a discarded dishrag.
Josei touched her shoulder. “I brought Tac with me. He will carry you back to your tent.”
The Combat Mistress turned to the crowding trees and gave a low whistle, the liquid call of a bird. One of the shadows solidified into the light-haired young man she’d last seen in the armory.
He’d been smiling then, eyes sparkling with mischief and effort, hair hanging in his eyes and mussed from their staff fight. Now his smile was gone and he looked … older.
He moved to Nisha’s side, lifting her without effort. Once she was in his arms, he looked at her intently, as if he were memorizing her face.
Nisha squirmed under Tac’s gaze. What must he think of her after all the things Stefan had said? Because it was true—she was turning her back on the only real family she had in the world. Nisha knew she had no choice, but would Tac understand that? Did he think her stupid for going back?
But there was no sign of condemnation on Tac’s face, and his grip was gentle. Nisha found herself relaxing into his strong arms and leaned her head against his chest.
Maybe tomorrow she could try to talk to her uncle again. Tomorrow.
Tac’s heartbeat pulsed evenly against her ear, a soothing sound that sent Nisha drifting into a soft, uneasy sleep.
When Nisha woke, the light behind the blue cotton of her tent was the dim, cold light of morning. Aishe, a grim set to her mouth, was bustling around the enclosed space, one eye on a pot of steaming soup. The old woman’s bent back was stiff, and she muttered as she wrestled with a bulging sack.
At Nisha’s first movement, Aishe straightened. “You are leaving us?” Her dark eyes were troubled.
“Yes,” Nisha said, regretting the words as they left her lips. Part of her still wanted to stay, to belong to these people who had loved her parents. “I have to.”
“I am sorry to hear this. But loyalty to one’s friends is a trait all Kildi value. I wish Stefan remembered that.” Her voice grew thick with frustration. “He sees only his hurt. My daughter, his heart-wife, could have helped you. But she went Beyond several years ago.” She tied off the top of the sack with several hard yanks.
“He has decreed that as soon as you leave, we are to break camp.”
Nisha swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. So her uncle was planning to leave again. “Does he always do this when he’s mad?” she asked, hurt turning to disbelief.
Aishe rolled her eyes. “He is a spoiled boy now, with no brother or wife to advise him. He runs from his hurt and pulls the rest of us with him.” She pushed the sack toward Nisha. “This is for you. Blankets and fabric. You are Kildi, and Aishe will not see you go with empty hands.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Nisha started, but something in Aishe’s even gaze held the words in her throat.
“You will take this,” the old woman said, in a tone so final that Nisha’s half-formed arguments died away. “It is your inheritance.”
At that moment Tac pulled back the tent flap and walked in on silent feet. His eyes, warm with sympathy, found hers. He smiled, and Nisha found herself smiling back.
Josei followed him.
“Is my uncle coming to say good-bye?” Nisha asked her. Maybe if he did, she could try to end things better, for now. Aishe understood her. Why couldn’t Stefan?
Josei shook her head. “They are already tearing down the tents,” she said. “Stefan expects the Kildi to be gone by Darkfall.”
How could it be so painful to be exiled from a place you’d never really known?
Tac brushed the hair from Nisha’s face, his fingers giving gentle comfort, then picked her up as if she were made of spun glass.
Josei gave her a pat on the shoulder, and Nisha remembered that Josei’s mother had left her when she was young too.
Their silent sympathy helped, but the sharp pain in Nisha’s chest remained. And as they started the walk back to the City, Nisha was aware of only two things: the steady pace of Tac’s gait, and the silent tears that slipped from her eyelids and soaked the fabric of his shirt.
28
THE KILDI HAD camped in the woods on the far side of the quarry, as far as they could get while staying close enough to water. Tac couldn’t walk quickly with Nisha in his arms, so they moved through the forest at a gentle pace. Josei walked beside them, carrying the bag that the old Kildi woman had given Nisha.
While they walked, Josei told Nisha what had happened since she’d gone missing. Tanaya was safe, but Akash tar’Vey had stopped any investigation into the murders after Sashi had been arrested, and he had kept Matron far too busy to do anything about it.
Josei’s information confirmed what Nisha suspected. If no one came and spoke on Sashi’s behalf, her friend was doomed. And if Matron couldn’t do speak for Sashi, Nisha would.
Finally the stone walls of the City came into sight. As they neared the main gate, Nisha heard a familiar whinny. Her heart jerked. There was Devan’s mare grazing just outside. And behind the horse, as handsome as ever, wearing a gold-embroidered tunic, stood Devan.
A burst of wild, absurd happiness blurred Nisha’s eyes. She’d missed him.
Devan caught sight of them. “Nisha!�
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Tac’s arms tensed, and Josei put a hand to her sword. Nisha hastened to reassure them. “It’s all right,” she said. “He’s a friend.”
Josei adjusted the bag on her shoulder and gave Tac an unreadable look. “I’ll put this in your room, Nisha. I’ll find Matron.” Then she vanished through the gate.
“Devan,” Nisha said, more conscious than ever of Tac’s arms supporting her. “What are you doing here so early? Are you here for the masquerade?”
Devan eyed Tac, who stared back at him without expression. “Of course. With the High Prince attending, every young noble in the Imperial Court is coming. Most of them are still on their way, or occupied making ridiculous demands at the inn down the road.” He paused. “Do we have to have the servant?”
“He’s not a servant,” Nisha said. “And yes, we have to have him, unless you want to carry me in by yourself.”
“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” Devan said, concern in his dark eyes. “Do you trust him?”
“Of course,” Nisha said, surprising herself with her own certainty. “Besides, he doesn’t talk.”
“I could use a few servants like that,” Devan said, then dropped his eyes and his flippant manner. “I was so worried about you. The servant picking up scrolls in your place wouldn’t tell me anything. It was like you vanished.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, warmed by his words. “I didn’t mean to worry you. If I could have sent you a message, I would have.” Tac set her down, her back against the wall.
Devan knelt next to her and ran his hand down her cheek. He spoke quietly. “I was just about to go to Matron and demand to know where you were, and damn the consequences. I was afraid you’d gotten into trouble because of us.”
He touched her cast. “Looks like you got into trouble of a different kind. What happened?”
Nisha opened her mouth to tell him everything, but something held her back. Devan would be angry with her that she had gone poking around the questions surrounding Atiy’s, Jina’s, and Lashar’s deaths herself. He probably didn’t even know about them. She knew he couldn’t understand.
“I fell,” she said. “I was exploring the old stone quarry, and I slipped and a rock fell on me. I’ve been in a Kildi camp all week.”
“The Kildi? They’re notorious thieves. They took care of you?” Devan snorted. “I’m surprised you still have all your teeth.”
“They’re not thieves!” Nisha said, stung. “They were very kind people, and they set my foot. They keep goats and weave cashmere.”
Devan laughed. “Well, it would be impolite of me to mock your rescuers. Still, I don’t trust people who can’t stay in one place. Did they have a good healer there, or should I bring you mine?”
“They had a very good healer,” Nisha said. She reached out and took his hand, feeling their fingers intertwine. The story bubbled up in her throat: the Council’s threat, the danger she was in. She needed to trust him. “Devan, I have to tell you something—”
Devan leaned forward and touched her cheek. “You can’t imagine what I thought when someone else came for the mail. I thought you’d disappeared for good, and there were so many things I hadn’t gotten the chance to say.”
“I know,” Nisha said. “And I need to tell you what’s been happening.”
“Nisha, wait. There’s something I want to say.” Devan took a deep breath. “I want to speak for you.”
Nisha’s eyes blurred. “Really?” she whispered. “You do?”
Devan traced the line of her jaw. “I want to marry you, Nisha. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“But what about your family?” Nisha asked.
Devan smiled, a smile that wrapped her up like a cashmere blanket, soft and warm. “I’m a second son, Nisha. As long as I marry a girl who won’t embarrass my family, my father won’t care that you’re not trained for the court. I mean, isn’t that what this place is for?” He waved a hand at the City gate. “To make it all right for men to marry outside their caste? Isn’t that why High Prince Sudev is marrying a girl from here?”
Nisha felt a burst of gratitude toward Tanaya. She was doing so much for the rest of the girls. Because of her, Nisha, an abandoned girl with no future, could be with Devan, a nobleman’s son.
Devan settled against the wall and put one arm around her. “So,” he said with a playful lilt to his voice. “How long will your foot take to heal? I want to be able to dance with you at our wedding.”
“Well, that might be difficult,” she said, resting her head on Devan’s chest. “I broke my ankle and my heel.” She said the words with a laugh, inviting him to share the joke. But he was silent.
Nisha wanted to close her eyes, wanted to enjoy the wonderful, bright moment, but instead, Devan pushed her back gently by the shoulders. His eyes searched hers with an intensity she didn’t understand.
“But it will heal, right? You’ll be able to walk normally again?”
A cold fear touched Nisha’s heart. “I’ll be able to walk again, if the foot heals right. But I might have a bit of a limp.”
Devan’s hands were cold on her skin. The light in his eyes faded, replaced by blank understanding. “A limp,” he repeated tonelessly.
“Does it matter?” Nisha asked. The bright happiness faded, and she felt something dark and painful hover over her, waiting.
Devan laughed, the sound breaking into brittle shards like glass. He pushed himself to his feet. Nisha watched him pace, his sharp footsteps the only sound.
“Does it matter?” he repeated, giving the words a hollow, ugly sound. “Does it matter? Nisha.”
He dropped to his knees before her, like a criminal begging for mercy. “No one is physically imperfect in the Imperial Court. No one. It is the worst sign of weakness.”
No, Nisha thought, as if she could stop Devan’s flood of words with just her frantic thoughts. Please, please don’t do this.
Devan’s eyes burned into her. “Nisha, my family … we have powerful enemies. Enemies who want my father’s place on the Court of Lesser Princes. Any whisper of weakness could destroy us. I can’t let that happen, Nisha. I can’t let my family down like this.”
A dark, painful thing had come and hit her with the force of the boulder. Nisha felt flattened, smothered, and broken all at the same time. She wanted to scream, to cry, to break something.
“There is something else we could do....” Devan hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “No one cares about our mistresses, since they aren’t for public display. I’m a little young—usually men wait until after they’re married … but it’s been done before.”
Nisha stared at him in horror. She had to swallow before her voice would come. “You want me to be your mistress?”
“Of course.” The light returned to Devan’s face, and he gestured as he spoke. “It’s the perfect solution. No one in the court would ever have to see you, no one will care about your foot, and we can be together, just the two of us. And my father won’t be nearly so furious about me falling in love with an untrained and casteless girl if I don’t marry you.”
Nisha flinched, but Devan didn’t notice.
“I have money, enough for a comfortable apartment for you near the palace. You wouldn’t ever want for anything. There will be servants to shop and clean and cook. I’ll come as often as I can. You’ll be safe there.”
I’ll be trapped there, Nisha thought. The picture Devan was painting didn’t make her feel safe or loved or wanted. Instead it made her insides twist.
Devan sprang to his feet. “I’ll do it now,” he said. “You won’t even have to go back inside these walls. I’ll speak for you before the Redeeming and take you back to Kamal with me tonight.”
Nisha held out her hand. “Devan, don’t.”
“Don’t?” Devan gave her a look of puzzled hurt and sank back down. “Don’t what? Don’t want you? Don’t try to find a way for us to be together?”
He touched her face, curled his icy hand over her cheek in a way
that had, moments before, made her feel special. “I love you. Don’t you want to be with me?”
“Not like that,” Nisha said. “I would die, Devan. Maybe my body wouldn’t, but inside … inside I wouldn’t be the girl you loved anymore. I’d turn into a shell. Please don’t ask me to do that. There has to be another way.”
Devan met her gaze for a moment longer, then looked away. “There is no other way. The Flower caste has always been perfect, Nisha. Only common people are cripples.”
At those words, something inside Nisha broke like a clay pot. All the anger and humiliation leaked out, leaving only a cold emptiness behind.
“Is that how you think of me now? As common?”
“No, of course not,” Devan said. He rose again. “But you have to understand—”
Nisha understood all that she wanted to. “Did you ever care about me?” she asked, the words rising from a deep place inside her and spilling out before she even knew what she was going to say. “Or was it all a game, something to amuse you as long as it was convenient?”
Devan flinched. “Me?” he asked. “What about you? What were you doing in that quarry anyway? If you had trusted me, if you had waited, I would have come for you. But instead you go wandering around in the forest as if you were a damned Kildi and ruin everything. I can’t take you as a wife, and being my mistress isn’t good enough for you. What am I supposed to do?”
Devan slammed his palm against a tree trunk.
Shame filled Nisha, and she touched the tiger mark under her collarbone. No one wanted her. She wasn’t loyal enough to her family to be a Kildi, and she wasn’t flawless enough to become Flower caste. She didn’t belong to the City, she didn’t belong to Devan, she didn’t belong to the cats, she didn’t belong to anyone, anywhere. Devan’s words flayed her to the bone.
Tac, who’d been standing several paces away and staring into the forest, came back at Devan’s angry shout. He crouched down and took Nisha’s hand. His touch was a lifeline, and she clung to it as Devan stepped closer to her again.
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