The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(106)

“I’m so sorry, Laksh. I wish you had told me—”

“How could I tell you what I saw when I went home? The last thing I would’ve wanted to hear was you forgiving your cursed uncle, excusing the soldiers who had destroyed my village, my family,” Laksh said sharply.

Kunal reached out to Laksh but his friend held a hand up.

In seconds, his composure was back and he let a little smile shine.

“That is why we need you. Join us, join the rebels of your own motherland. We want what you want. Dharmdev wants what you want.”

“Which is what exactly?”

“A free Jansa. Our country and land returned to us. King Vardaan doesn’t care about the Jansan people. He’s burning villages, raiding already poor towns. All for his own needs.”

Kunal stared at him, unsure whether to ask the questions popping up in his mind. A free Jansa? What of a healthy one, a whole one? One thriving under an unbroken janma bond? And who would take charge if they brought down Vardaan? How did these rebels plan on addressing those concerns?

Kunal understood then. The first mask of Laksh had been a ruse, trying to use his guilt against him. And when that didn’t work . . . But why? It hit him.

He was the general’s nephew, a beacon of what the Fort was. Was this even about him? Or what he might stand for? The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

But that wasn’t the only danger lurking. Kunal could hear Esha’s voice in his head. If these Jansan rebels found out his true identity, he would have no peace. This fleeting freedom he had found, the ability to choose for himself, would vanish.

Despite that, Kunal couldn’t deny the appeal of Laksh’s words. Laksh seemed to notice it.

“We need you, Kunal. Our cause needs you,” Laksh continued on, his voice lowering, becoming more urgent. “Take me to the Viper and we can take her back. You can become commander of the Fort and we will effect that change you dreamed of, that you told Alok about. We’ll take back the country from the inside out, take back the Jansan army. Our group is true to Jansa and we’re getting closer and closer to the key to healing our country. Think of what we could do together.”

Laksh’s words caused an ache in Kunal’s chest, answering an unspoken need he had felt for years. Hadn’t that been one of his goals? To remake the army in a way that would befit mother Jansa?

The ache only grew deeper as he realized it was an old need, an outdated dream. He couldn’t give his new life up, give Esha and even the team up, just to fulfill an old, wild dream of his. If he knew anything, he knew that.

And the key to healing their country? What did Laksh mean by that? Could he mean the broken janma bond?

“Are you boys talking about me?”

Esha dropped down from the trees, her hair a crown of fury around her as she landed lightly on the ground, whips in each hand.

Laksh laughed, his face crinkling in real delight.

“Pleasure to meet you again, Viper. I’ve got to say I’m impressed—it looks like you’ve turned our Kunal. For as long as I’ve known him, I’d only ever dreamed of doing it.” He gave her a blinding smile. “Now, if only I had known it would be so easy to get an audience with you back in Faor. No dancing monkeys required.”

“The pleasure’s all yours. Though I’m sure we could’ve made time to chat if I had shown up at the Blood Fort just a little bit earlier, right?”

Kunal’s head snapped up. What did she mean by that?

Laksh locked eyes with Esha but said nothing.

Esha nodded to Kunal. “He’s been lying to you, feeding you sweet words.” She turned to Laksh. “Why don’t you tell him?”

“I’m more curious how you figured it out,” Laksh said, tension in the line of his jaw. Kunal noticed his hand was drifting to his waist sash. Kunal stepped closer to Esha, slowly moving his hand to the knife in his own sash.

“The whip, it was a fake,” Esha said encouragingly. “A very good one, but a fake, immediately detected by my blacksmith.”

“I heard you left yours behind instead. A bold move,” Laksh said, his voice light, his fingers still dancing along the inside edge of his waist sash.

Esha wasn’t playing his game. She pursed her lips, tapping a finger against them. “You know, once I found out the whip was made in the Fort, I knew I was looking for a soldier. I overheard everything, about this Dharmdev, your new vision for Jansa—and your attempt to recruit Kunal. Does he know? The blood on your hands?”

Laksh laughed. “As if you don’t have plenty on your own.”

“I’ll take that as a no. You said leaving my whip was a bold move?” Esha’s face tightened, and Kunal froze at her expression. “Yours was bolder. Killing the general in his own bedchamber. If you hadn’t revealed that you knew the Viper was a Blade, I might not have been sure.”

Her words swept over Kunal, the links clicking together in his mind. Whoever had framed Esha had known the Viper was one of the Blades, had been the one to leave the pin and whip, had murdered his uncle in cold blood.

Had he truly killed Kunal’s uncle, his own general?

Could people change so much, so deeply, that you could wonder how you ever thought you knew them? Or had it been a lie from the start?

Laksh faced him, but Kunal didn’t know if he could trust this new mask any more than the previous ones. “You must know by now all the atrocities he committed. My family . . .”