Poison's Kiss (Poison's Kiss #1)(25)

Sometimes I wish I could turn off my memories. Or better yet, erase them completely. Because this feels too familiar, sitting with Iyla, cleaning her wounds. Feeling guilty for her injuries. Trying and failing to bandage her body and my soul. It’s happened more times than I can count. Once when we were twelve, Gopal broke Iyla’s arm. He had given her a target—the father of a girl about our own age. Iyla was supposed to befriend the girl and spy on the father. It was meant to be practice for all that would come later. Three weeks into the mission, Iyla had gotten attached.

“I want you to promise me that you won’t have him killed,” she told Gopal one night at dinner.

He snorted. “I will do no such thing.”

“Pari has already lost her mother. If you kill her father, she’ll be an orphan.” I flinched because Iyla had used the girl’s name. There was no faster way to enrage Gopal than by referring to the targets like they were people.

He fixed her with a cold stare. “You aren’t in a position to ask for promises and you won’t get any from me.”

“Then I won’t spy on him for you,” Iyla said. Her face was cold and defiant. My whole body froze, taut with alarm.

Gopal dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin, as calm as if Iyla had asked him to pass the pepper. He stood and placed the napkin precisely at the side of his plate. And then in one swift motion, he grabbed Iyla’s forearm and snapped it over his knee like it was a twig.

Iyla’s eyes went big and all the color drained from her face, but she didn’t cry out. She didn’t make a sound. I did, though. I cried enough for both of us as I held her and rocked her back and forth.

And I was still sobbing later as I made her a sling from an old sari and tied it behind her neck.

“Why aren’t you crying?” I asked her. “Why do you never cry?”

She didn’t answer right away. But finally she said, “If I cry, then he thinks he controls me.”

“He broke your arm, Iyla. He does control you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she said. But we both knew it was a lie.

Her arm healed fine. It was a clean break—the kind that comes only with practice.

And now I feel like we’re right back where we’ve always been. It takes me twenty minutes to clean her wounds. I work slowly with as much gentleness as I can. Iyla stares straight ahead and only flinches twice.

“Thank you,” she says when I’ve finished. She turns and studies my face for a moment and then says, “Did he really not show?” My heart falls into my stomach. How can I tell her that this is my fault? I press my lips together and close my eyes.

“I couldn’t do it,” I say finally.

Iyla goes very still. “Why not?”

I open my eyes. “Because I know him, Iyla. And he’s not a bad person.”

She fixes me with an icy stare. “That’s never been your call, Marinda. Never.”

“You know him too. Do you think he deserves to die?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “It’s not for me to say,” she says softly.

“Iyla!”

She shoots to her feet. “No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to moralize to me. I have known all of them. Every single one. And you’ve never asked me what kind of people they were or if I thought they deserved to die. Then you get cozy with one boy and you suddenly decide you’re in charge of this whole operation? You put all of our lives at risk?”

I’m too stunned to speak. I’ve always thought I had the bigger burden, the greater guilt. I’ve never thought about what it must be like for Iyla. To know them all. To care about them.

“Were they all like Deven?”

She sits heavily on the bed and winces. “Not all of them. But a lot of them, yes.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick. I sit down and put my head in my hands. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“We don’t have a choice, Marinda.”

I hesitate. What will she do if I tell her the truth? Can I afford to confide in her? Can I afford not to? Mani catches my eye and shakes his head. He can see I’m close to telling her and he doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t trust her. But Mani doesn’t easily trust anyone and he doesn’t know Iyla like I do. Before Mani was born, she was the closest thing to family that I had. Choosing to love her, choosing to believe that there was at least one person in the world I could rely on, was the only thing that kept me sane for the first ten years of my life. She can be cunning and cruel, but my life has been in her hands before and she’s always kept it safe. I lift one shoulder and hope Mani understands—I don’t know what else to do.

“We do have a choice,” I say. “I want to make Deven immune.”

Iyla looks up sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“I visited Kadru.”

Iyla blanches and her eyes go wide. “Why would you do that?” There’s a tremble in her voice, and I remember how much Iyla hates Kadru—even more than I do.

“To get venom. For Deven. If I can give him a little at a time, he’ll be immune. He’ll be safe.”

“You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

My cheeks heat. “No. No, that’s not it. I just don’t want him to die, Iyla. Not by me and not by any of the other vish kanya either.”