The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(100)

His vision turned to black.





Chapter 62


Esha stood there after he left, the wind gently whipping around her.

She couldn’t move. She felt rooted to the spot, as if moving would cause the heavy weariness that had descended on her soul to fully crush her.

And that inner voice she hated, telling her she had been stupid to give a piece of herself to a soldier, to anyone that was alive. She wasn’t supposed to have any heart to give.

Then why did her chest ache and beat with such ferocity it threatened to rip out her chest? No, she had a heart. If nothing else, she couldn’t deny it anymore.

The Viper had a weakness. And he had walked out of her life. But she felt no joy at the thought, despite having achieved part of her goal. Or that’s what she was telling herself.

She had given him a choice, and he hadn’t chosen her.

With the realization, she felt her body unstick. It had been inevitable, him leaving her, and yet the knowledge didn’t prevent the tears from bubbling up. She brushed them away hastily, crouching down to inspect her pack. To do anything that would distract her from the pit in her heart.

A small, hated part of her whispered to her that maybe he would come back. It kept her in the clearing longer than she should have been, throwing sidelong glances at the trees with undue hope. It was a preposterous thought, yet one that kept hitting her.

But minutes passed and she remained the only one in the clearing. With a heavy sigh, she gathered her pack and stood up, shaking off her clothing.

Esha almost thought she had imagined it, her name shouted through the quiet hum of the jungle. She whipped around in the direction of the sound in time to see Kunal’s bright eyes close as he was pulled into the darkness of the forest, his head hanging limply.

This time her legs weren’t frozen. Esha sprinted to where Kunal’s body had fallen, but when she arrived, he was nowhere to be seen.

It couldn’t be the rebels—she knew exactly where every Blades squad was stationed now. Who, then?

She fell to the ground, inspecting the tread of sandals against the soft earth. The misplacement of branches and broken twigs. Whoever they were, they weren’t trying to be careful or hide their tracks.

Esha frowned, her mind racing to sort through everything. Maybe it had been a mistake? But he had come back and been steps away. And he had called her name.

She was sure of it, would stake her whips on it. And the look on his face as he fell—it was surprise. She wasn’t even able to feel the joy that he had returned, knowing he was unconscious somewhere. Questions swirled in her head but she chose action.

Esha traced the outline of the sandal imprint with the tip of her finger, an image emerging in her mind. Of flat-edged sandals with sharp metal bottoms—military issued as part of the Jansan army uniform.

But relief at knowing he was with his own soldiers didn’t come. The depth of the imprints in the soft ground told the truth.

Whoever had taken Kunal here had been lying in wait, had possibly seen Esha with him. Esha’s heart pounded, thudding in her ears with a vicious clarity.

Her cover could be blown, her true connection to Kunal revealed.

And if they had heard their conversation, Kunal would be a known deserter and traitor to the Pretender King.

When Kunal came to on the soft dirt of the ground, he sprang upright, hand on his knife. The last thing he remembered was being knocked out, the pain in the back of his head a reminder that he hadn’t been taken of his own will.

Esha.

He pushed aside the thought, blinking as he acclimated himself to his surroundings.

“Hold up there, Kunal. You can put the weapon away.”

Kunal whipped around, ignoring the accompanying sharp stab of pain. He must be imagining things. He shook his head again. The image held.

Laksh leaned against a tree, and he saw Amir and two more soldiers—Saran and someone new—sitting around the fire to his left. Amir looked over and his face lit up. He stood and moved toward Kunal, gathering some of the rations that were near the fire.

“Good to see you awake,” Amir said cheerily, handing him a chunk of crusty bread and dried meat.

Kunal took the food from him, staring at him in bewilderment. Laksh hadn’t moved from his spot against the tree, continuing to watch Kunal.

“What in the Sun Maiden’s name am I doing here?” Kunal asked shakily.

“Sorry. I’m happy to see you all again—and some other brothers—” He nodded at the other soldiers, who dipped their heads in response. “But could someone tell me how I ended up here with a sore head?” He drew the words out into pointed jabs.

“Ah, that might be a better story for Laksh to tell,” Amir said with a rueful expression. “He found you deeper in the jungle when he was hunting.”

Kunal rubbed the back of his head, and Amir winced. Laksh remained unmoving, his mouth quirking into a quick grin. If Kunal didn’t know better, he would have described it as almost gleeful. Laksh had never been that excited to see him before.

“Sorry about the blow to the head. You weren’t wearing your armor, so I didn’t recognize you at first. You know our motto. ‘Attack first, questions later,’” Laksh quipped. “We’ve been in need of food and rations.”

It didn’t look like it bothered him to admit to thievery. Kunal put down his bread, his appetite gone at the mention that it might be stolen goods. “When I noticed it was you, I brought you back to camp immediately,” Laksh said, finally looking a bit guilty.