Poison's Kiss (Poison's Kiss #1)(53)

“If we hired an elephant, we’d get there so much faster,” I say as Deven and I trudge through the back alleys leading away from the safe house. I’m grateful that Deven was able to find me clothing that was more appropriate for our journey—pants and soft leather hiking boots. The boots are slightly too big but far better than my sandals would have been.

“The Naga are likely searching for you. An elephant is a little conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“A donkey?” I offer.

Deven shakes his head. “Sorry. Walking is the only option.” He glances sidelong at me. He must see the disappointment on my face, because he says, “Don’t worry. We’ll get there in time. I promise.”

I only nod. As we walk, I wonder, not for the first time, about the identities of the rest of the members of the Naga. How many are there? I know of only Gopal, Gita and Kadru, but the way Deven talks about them makes it seem like there must be hundreds. I wonder how many of them know who I am. Would they all make the same choices that Gopal has? Are any of them decent enough to help Mani?

I’m so lost in thought that I trip over a large rock in the road and almost go down. But Deven catches me around the waist before I fall.

“Are you okay?” he asks. He’s close enough that his breath dances across my neck. I close my eyes and feel a flood of warmth rush through me. Ever since I found out Deven is immune, I’ve been far too aware of him. The exact distance between his hand and mine as we walk, precisely how far I would have to reach to intertwine my fingers with his. The way he licks his bottom lip right before he’s about to speak. How he taps his middle finger and thumb together when he’s lost in thought. Now having him this close with his arms around my waist is almost too much.

“I’m fine,” I manage to choke out. “Just clumsy.”

“Okay.” He lets go of me and I feel the loss like blankets ripped off on a chilly morning. But at least I can breathe again.

We walk all morning, stopping only long enough to eat the dried fruit and flatbread that we packed in our satchels. My feet ache and I can feel a blister forming on my right heel. I open my mouth several times to complain, but then Mani’s face pops into my mind and I snap it closed again. Any amount of pain is worth it to get to him. I can’t think about Mani too much, though, because if I imagine how scared he must be, the despair makes it impossible to keep moving. Maybe that’s why I keep noticing the shape of Deven’s arms underneath his white shirt.

We’re between towns when it’s time to eat again. Deven finds us a place to sit in a copse of trees on a hill overlooking a rice field. The setting sun has turned the sky vermilion, and it is startlingly beautiful against the bright green rows of rice. Deven passes me a loaf of flatbread and I eat, but I don’t taste anything. I drain most of the water left in my canteen. I’m so tired that I feel numb.

“I know another safe house in the next town,” Deven says. “We’ll stop and sleep for a few hours before we go on.” I want to argue with him, insist that we keep moving toward Colapi City, but I don’t think I can go much farther without a break.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.” He touches the middle of my back for just a moment and then drops his hand like he’s changed his mind.

By the time we start moving again, I can see the moon. It’s a sliver fuller than last night—one day closer to Mani’s death. It makes me walk a little faster. A few hours later we arrive at the safe house. It is nearly identical to the last one.

“How many safe houses are there?” I ask as I sit on one of the beds and pull off my boots.

“Dozens,” he says. “Dotted all across Sundari.”

“Have you stayed in all of them?”

He sits in a chair across from me and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. It makes me realize that my eyes feel gritty too.

“Nearly,” he says. “I haven’t made it to one or two yet.”

“What made you want to become a spy?” I ask him. It’s a question that’s been itching at the back of my mind since yesterday. Who would choose this kind of life without being forced? Deven looks up then and waits a beat too long to answer. His gaze slides away from me, and I realize I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You don’t have to—”

But he surprises me by answering. “I had an older brother,” he says. “He was killed by one of the vish kanya, and so once I was old enough, nothing seemed more important than destroying the Naga.”

All the air leaves my lungs and Kadru’s words reverberate in my mind: There are no other vish kanya, Marinda. The Nagaraja chooses only one.

I killed Deven’s brother.





My chin is quivering. With shock. With guilt. “I’m so sorry,” I manage to say.

Deven gives me a sad smile. “It was a long time ago.” He goes in the back to change into sleeping clothes, but I sit motionless, too stunned to move. Each time I think I’ve found a shred of humanity, it is snatched away with more evidence of my atrocities. I don’t want to be this person, this girl who spends time with the brother of someone she once killed. The girl who leaves her brother alone to be kidnapped, to be taken by people who want to hurt him. The kind of girl who gets Japa killed. But the trouble is, it’s the only kind of girl I know how to be.