The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1)(18)
“No. My kingdom is neither among humans nor Otherworldly beings. It is between.”
“Why did you come to Bharata?” I asked. “The invitation to my swayamvara was issued only to the nations we’re at war with.”
“Everyone is at war with my nation,” he said with a smile.
“How did you even know about me?”
“Akaran has its eyes and ears.”
He could have been lying. Nothing escaped me from the rafters where I had spied for years. But my father had other meetings … and he was not always in Bharata.
I hesitated. “How can I trust someone who won’t even reveal their face?”
“It’s far too easy to be recognized here.”
He drew the cloak closer and the gesture was so final, so closed off and unwelcoming, that I stepped back, chastened. Amar removed the wedding garland from around his neck. From the sleeves of his jacket, he withdrew a small knife. Before I could react, he swiped the knife across his palm. Small beads of blood welled to the surface. He held his palm out to me like a perverse offering.
“I make this bond to you in blood, not flowers,” he said. “Come with me and you shall be an empress with the moon for your throne and constellations to wear in your hair. Come with me and I promise you that we will always be equals.”
My mouth went dry. A blood oath was no trifling undertaking. Vassals swore it to lords, priests to the gods. But husbands to wives? Unthinkable.
Still, Bharata’s court had taught me one thing: the greater the offer, the greater the compromise. And I had neither dowry nor influence from Bharata, nothing to give but the jewels I wore.
“You’re offering me the world, and you ask for nothing in return.”
“I ask only for your trust and patience.”
“Trust?” I repeated. “Trust is won in years. Not words. And I don’t know anything about you—”
“I will tell you everything,” he cut in, his voice fierce. “But we must wait until the new moon. The kingdom’s close ties to the Otherworld make it dangerous grounds for the curious.”
In my stories to Gauri, the new moon weakened the other realms. Starlight thinned their borders and the inhabitants lay glutted and sleepy on moonbeams. The thing is, I had always made that part up.
“Why that long?”
“Because that is when my realm is at its weakest,” said Amar, confirming my imagination and sending shivers across my arms. “Until then, the hold of the other realms binds me into silence.”
The night before the wedding ceremony, there was no moon in the sky. I would have to wait a whole cycle.
“And in the meantime, you expect me to go away with you?”
“Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Do you accept me?”
He held out his hand to me, the cut on his palm bright and swollen. Against the glow of the bazaar, Amar’s form cut a silhouette of night.
I looked past him to the glittering secrets of the Otherworld. The Night Bazaar gleamed beneath its split sky—an invitation to be more than what Bharata expected, a challenge to rise beyond the ranks of the nameless, dreamless harem women. All I needed to do was slip my hand in his. I was reaching for him before I knew it and the warmth of his hands jolted me.
“I accept.”
*
The Night Bazaar unfurled before us in a spectrum of color and life. Carts bearing persimmons and custard apples weaved between the crowds. Stores hopped across streets to greet likely customers. Other shops shrank to the size of thimbles, fit only for clientele no wider than a mouse. The Night Bazaar was filled with the sound of reedy flutes and the rill of haggling tongues.
I kept turning around, practically spinning as I walked. Twice, I just barely avoided careening straight into a band of animated sitaars and drums. It was a world already vivid with my dreams and each time I blinked and opened my eyes anew, something warm spread slowly across my chest. To see the Night Bazaar before me, to feel its warm and irregular ground beneath my feet and let my fingers trail against the licorice teak of its balustrades, lulled me into a stupefied walk. I never wanted to blink again, as if in a second, this whole fragile secret would crumble out of sight. But it was there. It was solid. And I, against everything I had believed only the night before, was here.
The scent of fresh berries, ripe fruit and the smokiness of roasted nuts and salted corn wafted around me. I could feel it tangling in my hair. Every sound was a new song expanding in my chest and imprinting onto my memory.
The inhabitants of the Otherworld moved airily through the Night Bazaar, sidestepping dancing conch shells and examining iridescent fruits. With their long limbs, stark cheekbones and symmetrical features, they were too perfect to be mistaken as human. They walked with a lope and glide so graceful, it would’ve made Bharata’s devadasi dancers look like broken dolls.
Wherever I moved, my skin prickled under the weight of watchful eyes. Everywhere we walked, the inhabitants bowed their heads in polite acknowledgment.
“You seem quite popular. I suppose your cloak is failing its camouflaging purpose.” I hoped the last part would have needled him into drawing the hood from his face, but it remained stubbornly pulled over him.
He shrugged. “They recognize and appreciate our duty to keep them safe.”
Our duty, I repeated silently, a tendril of warmth coiling in my stomach. “I didn’t realize the Otherworld needed protecting. Are you … some kind of guardian?”