The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1)(20)
Just as I was reaching back into the pearl tree, a ruff of feathers brushed against my fingertips followed by an indignant hoot! I barely had time to jump back when Amar’s shadow fell over me and his hand encircled the small of my back.
“They’re just chakara birds,” he said in a low voice, close to my neck, close enough to drink in the scent of him—mint and smoke, cardamom and wood.
He stepped toward the tree, lifting the branches to reveal four pairs of narrowed orange eyes.
“Rather grumpy birds. They think the moon belongs to them,” said Amar. “But, irritable or not, they’re harmless. Not like some of the other things here.”
I turned to look into his face, but he quickly stepped away, revealing the awning dark behind him. No silvery branches arced in those shadows. The tangle of brambles and fallen stones had the unmistakable gloom of something avoided. And for good reason. The dark was more than impenetrable, it was sticky, as if it would devour whatever fell into its path. Something swayed in the distance, catching in the darkness. And though I wanted to convince myself otherwise, whatever hung beneath the disquieting trees looked an awful lot like … bodies.
“Not everything wants the boundaries of the Otherworld and human realm maintained.”
“Why not?”
He was silent and I wondered whether the pull of the Otherworld kept him from responding. Finally, he said, “Because not everything respects balance. Not everything wants to be contained to one side or the other. Some things crave the chaos.”
I thought back to the woman in my room, the way the darkness glommed around her, choking off all the light. Her voice needled at the back of my mind—I need you to lead me.
“We must leave,” said Amar, his voice cutting through my thoughts.
We left behind the sparkling fruits and yawning shadows and traveled back to the Night Bazaar’s slice of day. The water buffalo lumbered to Amar’s side, pushing its nose into the palm of his hand.
“Are you ready?” asked Amar.
I took in one last glance. The Night Bazaar had ensnared me. I could smell its perfume on my skin—of stories and secrets, flashing teeth and slow smiles. In this land, I was no stronger than a calf in a lion’s jaws. But I liked it. Even though I couldn’t admit it aloud, even though I comforted myself that I had no choice but to go with him, the truth was that I wanted this. I yearned to draw breath beneath a split-sky leaking with magic. And not just live within one of the other realms’ strange kingdoms, but rule it. Without answering, I lifted myself onto the water buffalo’s back. Amar bowed his head, another ghost of a smile at his lips. The animal took off at a brisk pace and my heart raced.
My head bowed against the harsh wind as we sped down the same tunnel we used to reach the Night Bazaar. When the wind died down, I turned, expecting to see the ghost-lights of its torn sky. Instead, there was only a gnarled parijaat tree. Its thick trunk clung to the hill and sparse branches twisted into the sky like wrought iron.
“Welcome to Akaran,” said Amar as the water buffalo moved down the hill and the palace came into view.
This was Akaran? After seeing the Night Bazaar, I’d expected another crowded city filled with thin Otherworldly beings and strange shops. But Akaran was empty. The hill sloped into a huge, flat gray valley. As far as I could see, there was nothing but scrubland and rock. I stared around me, but the emptiness was almost solid. There was so much space.
Akaran was a world completely alone. Elegant fountains and handsome statues paved the path to Amar’s kingdom, a sprawling palace adorned with ivory spires and silvery arches. Spirals of reflection pools next to stone sculptures of acacia trees fell on either side of us as we approached the entrance.
“This is now yours as much as it is mine,” said Amar.
Mine?
I breathed deeply, closing my eyes, stilling the tremble in my fingers. Every now and again I glanced at Amar, waiting for him to talk about the richness of his grounds or the costliness of his palace. Whenever I’d spied on a foreign royal’s introduction to the Raja’s court, the wealth of the foreigner’s palace, beauty of his queens and plumpness of his livestock always preceded his name. But Amar was different. He had said his name first and nothing after.
Once we were inside the courtyard, Amar leapt from the water buffalo. I tried to do the same, but my legs felt clumsy. Amar lifted me gently, his hands lingering at my waist a moment too long before he drew them away. My face warmed, and I was glad when someone stepped out of the shadows.
A clean-shaven man with a bulbous nose bowed to us. He was richly dressed, his brocade sherwani a gleaming silver next to Amar’s black robes. His arms were full of scrolls that he clutched at with ink-stained fingers. He looked like the studious court archivists. I looked at him intently, waiting for something inevitably strange to happen. What was he hiding? A tail? Clawed feet?
His eyes were fixed on the ground and he lifted them slowly, as if he was fighting the moment when he finally looked at me. When our eyes met, his smile faltered. He made a strangled sound, a weird mix of surprise and disbelief. I ventured a smile, but that seemed to make things worse. The man swallowed air, his grip on the parchments tightening.
“May I present Gupta, my councilor and dearest friend.”
Gupta cleared his throat, staring at the ground. “Welcome to Akaran, Rani.”
Rani, I repeated in my head. I really was queen. Gupta spoke softly, his voice trailing into a nervous stuttering. It was the kind of tone Ajeet had used when he disagreed with the Raja. Does he think I shouldn’t be here? Walking to him, Amar clapped a hand against his back. Gupta stared back, his expression a mask of hesitation and wonder.