Poison's Kiss (Poison's Kiss #1)(28)

I ruffle his hair. “Sure, monkey, go ahead.”

“Eat a few pieces,” Deven says. “You’re going to need your energy.” I raise my eyebrows in a question. “The flowers weren’t my only surprise. I came to kidnap you.”

“What?” Mani and I say together.

“The three of us are going on an adventure today,” Deven says.

“I don’t know—” I start, but Mani interrupts me.

“Please, Marinda. Please, please, please.”

I glance over at Deven and he presses his hands together under his chin, imitating Mani. “Please, Marinda,” he says in the same pleading tone.

I laugh. “You two are trouble,” I say.

“So?” Mani asks.

“Yes, all right. Let’s go have an adventure.” Both boys grin and then they slap their palms together in a celebratory high five. I roll my eyes. “Breakfast first,” I tell them.

“Of course,” Deven says.

I dress behind the curtain in our small bathroom—black pants, hiking boots, a silky lapis-colored top and wide silver bracelets. I pull my hair back in a ponytail and tie it with a scarf. This is probably unwise, going off with Deven like this. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea.

But Deven makes me reckless.

And just for one day I want to know what it feels like to be the girl he thinks I am.

After I finish dressing, while the boys are laughing over a game of dice, I warm two loaves of flatbread, smear them with butter and sprinkle them with cinnamon. Then I pour each of us a tall glass of orange juice.

I make sure Deven gets the poisoned one.



We’re a few hours into our hike up a steep mountainside blanketed in lush green trees when Deven reaches for my hand. “Close your eyes,” he says. “I want this to be a surprise.” He laces his fingers through mine and presses his other hand against my waist. I close my eyes and let him guide me forward.

“No peeking,” he says. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. It’s exhilarating, the thought of him that close to me. But then panic seizes me. What if I can feel his breath only because it’s labored? What if the poison I gave him is starting to kill him? I strain my ears, but all I can hear is the trill of a songbird. I focus on the feel of his hand in mine, check to see if it feels hot or clammy. It doesn’t—it feels soft and strong. Some of the tension drains from my shoulders. He’s fine. At least for now.

The ground is still damp from the earlier rainfall, and my boots sink into the soil as I walk. Cool mountain air bites at my cheeks, but it feels pleasant after the heat of the valley and after the exertion of the long hike. Mani is humming happily beside me. His eighteen hours of sleep yesterday must have restored some of his energy. He hasn’t asked to stop for a break once. Suddenly Mani falls silent and I hear a sharp intake of breath.

“Wow,” he says softly.

“We’re here,” Deven tells me. He drops his palm from my waist, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

I open my eyes, and my breath sticks in my throat. We’re at the base of an impossibly blue lake nestled against the side of a sheer cliff. The lake is surrounded by thick green forest. A brilliantly white waterfall tumbles from the rocks into the water below. It’s breathtaking.

“It’s not the tallest waterfall in Sundari,” Deven says, “but it’s the most beautiful.” This is the only waterfall I’ve ever seen, but I have no doubt that he’s right. I’m completely mesmerized.

“What’s it called?” Mani asks. His face is tipped upward and he’s wearing an expression of such joy that it tugs at my heart. It didn’t occur to me that the waterfall would have a name, but Deven is ready with an answer.

“It’s called the Maiden’s Curtain.”

“Why?” I ask.

He turns to me. His eyes are bright. “It’s from an old legend,” he says. “Would you like to hear the story?”

“Yes,” Mani and I answer in unison.

Deven laughs. “Okay, but let’s get comfortable first.” He pulls a large blanket from his pack and unfurls it on a flat, grassy area near the water’s edge. We lie on our backs, gazing up at the waterfall, close enough that the mist dances over our cheeks. When Deven starts speaking, there’s a melodic quality to his voice, like he’s told this story many times before.

“The legend goes that this lake once belonged to a maiden who was renowned for her beauty. Stories of her were told far and wide, spoken around cook fires and whispered at bedtime. Eventually the tales reached the ears of a lonely prince who was determined to find a beautiful bride. He had courted many maidens, but none of them were lovely enough to satisfy him. So the prince set out to find the maiden of the lake. He searched for months until he finally found this water—the brilliant blue of a sapphire. The lake was so perfect that he was certain he had the right place. And sure enough, a little ways off, he saw a young woman bathing herself in the water. He crept closer, trying to catch a glimpse of her and see if the legends were true. The maiden was submerged up to her neck in the water, and her back was to the prince, so all he could see was her dark hair. But it was beautiful hair, so his heart swelled with hope as he waited for her to turn.”

Deven stops talking and for a moment there’s just the rush of the waterfall in our ears. “So what happened?” Mani asks.