Poison's Kiss (Poison's Kiss #1)(24)

I gasp. “Iyla, what happened?” She meets my eyes and shakes her head, just a fraction. I understand her immediately. It’s a signal as old as our pairing—he’s here, it’s not safe to talk. I look beyond her and, sure enough, Gopal is leaning back on one of the chairs, his hands clasped behind his head. I squeeze Iyla’s fingers as I brush past her and step into the flat.

“Marinda,” Gopal says, his voice dripping with sweetness. “So nice to finally see you.” My mind is racing. What does he know? What did he do to Iyla? How can I avoid making it worse for her? For me? Mani is hiding behind my legs, a fistful of my skirt in his hands.

“I didn’t know to expect you,” I say. I try to keep my voice casual, airy, and I’m praying to the ancestors he can’t read me as well as Deven can.

“Of course you weren’t, rajakumari,” Gopal says, letting the chair drop onto all four legs. “I just came to tell you that we sorted out our little misunderstanding.”

“Oh?” I’m not sure exactly where he’s going, and this is the most neutral response I can think of.

“Yes,” he says, standing. “It turns out Iyla here was sloppy. Didn’t tell me that our target regularly spends time in the bookshop.” Iyla’s expression is stony. “That could have made our timing rather…imprecise.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. My heart is hammering. I’m not sure if Gopal really believes that Deven didn’t show or if he’s laying a trap for me. Either way, I have no idea what’s next. Gopal starts pacing around the flat—he can cover the whole distance in just a few steps, and it’s making me jumpy.

“Our young man showed up with the book—still very much alive—and when I discovered this, I was…” He pauses and searches my face. “Well, I was heartbroken, Marinda. I thought you had betrayed me.” My mouth has gone completely dry. I have betrayed him and I’m trying desperately to keep any hint of it from showing up in my expression. I can feel the vial in my pocket, resting against my thigh like an accusation, and I have to resist the urge to touch it. The last thing I need is Gopal demanding I turn out my pockets. Gopal clasps his hands in front of his body and rocks back on his heels. “Then I talked to Iyla, and after some…questioning…she admitted that the boy visits the bookshop often. That he could have obtained the book outside the window I gave you.”

Oh, no. What have I done? I’ve made Iyla look like a liar and now he’s punished her. “I’m sure she didn’t intend—”

“No, Marinda. Don’t defend her. It was reckless and unprofessional.” He throws her a hard look. “And completely unacceptable.” Iyla lowers her head, chastened.

Bile rises in my throat. I don’t know how to fix this, and I’m still not convinced that Gopal isn’t playing some kind of game. If he knows that Deven spends time in the bookshop, it must have occurred to him that I might have seen Deven before, that I might know him.

“So,” Gopal says. “We will try again, and this time Iyla is going to get it right.” He turns to me. “And so will you.” His gaze slides to Mani and then back. He lowers his voice to a whisper. “We wouldn’t want your brother’s health to worsen, now would we?” Something cold creeps down my spine. The medicine that Gopal provides for Mani is the only thing that is keeping him alive. If he took it away…“Are we clear?”

I nod. It’s the only option right now—to promise compliance. Gopal draws his lips back from his teeth in what I think is supposed to be a smile. “Good girl,” he says. “I’ll let you two sort out the details, but I want that boy dead by the end of the week.” He looks back and forth between me and Iyla, and he must be satisfied with the expressions on our faces, because he leaves without another word.

Mani lets out a shaky breath and I hug him to my side. Iyla is looking at me with daggers in her eyes.

“What is going on?” she asks.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” I’m stalling now. How much do I tell Iyla? How much can I trust her? I can’t stop picturing her with Deven—laughing with him, kissing him. Iyla touches her jaw and I have a vision of coming back in the next life as a dung beetle. I’m being so insensitive—it’s obvious what’s going on with her. “Iyla, I’m so sorry,” I say. “What happened?” She steps toward the edge of the bed to sit, but there’s something wrong with the way she’s moving; it’s too deliberate, too careful. “What did he do?” I ask again. She meets my gaze and this time her eyes are shiny—it’s the closest Iyla ever gets to tears. She turns her back and gingerly lifts her shirt. My hand flies to my mouth. Gopal hitting us to make a point is nothing new—my face has been discolored by his rage more than once—but this is something far worse. At least ten large welts climb up Iyla’s back like a ladder. Some of them are crusted with dried blood.

He has whipped her.

“Oh, Iyla.” My eyes fill with tears, but I blink them away. Mani is watching, his mouth hanging open in horror, and if I lose my composure, I’ll only make it worse for him. I wish that he didn’t have to see this, wish that I could protect him, but now it’s too late. It was too late the moment Gopal placed him in my arms. I squeeze Iyla’s hand. “I’ll get something to clean you up.” I go to the sink and return with a washcloth soaked in warm water and soap.