The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(108)

Kunal landed heavily on the jungle floor, all the breath knocked out of his lungs. A well-aimed kick sent Jageet flying. Kunal rolled to his feet, trying to keep his breaths steady. He took as much air into his battered lungs as possible. He ended up with gulping, painful breaths, but he was on his feet.

Jageet had gotten back up, but this time Kunal was ready with his attack and swept his leg out as he crouched. The young soldier fell heavily, hitting the hard ground with an oomph.

Kunal took the moment to assess Esha and the field. He noted Amir knocked out cold to the side. Laksh was diving forward, knife pointed at Esha, who was dueling with Saran.

Kunal intercepted him, narrowly missing the knife, which grazed his bare forearm. Laksh took a second to regain his balance and Kunal took advantage, kicking him in the chest.

“You do realize they’re trying to capture you?” Kunal said as Laksh struggled back up to his feet. Kunal bounced on his toes, bringing back memories of Laksh and him sparring under the red-tinted sunlight of the Fort.

Laksh shrugged, wiping his nose, which had a trickle of blood.

“Which means I need to capture her first.”

Before Kunal could react, Jageet tackled him from behind. They wrestled, the sharp edges of the soldier’s cuirass digging into Kunal’s torso.

He grunted and tried to toss Jageet off again, but the young soldier yanked Kunal into a firm chokehold.

As Jageet choked him, Kunal looked up in time to see Laksh approach Esha from behind.

His entire body went still. She wouldn’t spot him in time.

Kunal stretched his arm out to the rock nearby, fingers stretching and stretching as Jageet squeezed his hand around Kunal’s neck. Finally, Kunal grasped the rock and swung it up, cracking Jageet’s skull. The young soldier fell in a heap.

Kunal looked up in time to see Laksh’s face turned cold as he readied himself for the shield attack, the one Kunal had taught him almost two moons ago with Alok.

Except Esha had no shield.

Kunal rolled to his feet and lunged to intercept him, but was too late. Esha took the blow to her side, crumpling to the ground.

His anguish caught him unaware, hitting him like a typhoon, breaking down his control as the seconds dragged on and she still didn’t move.

The wild thing inside of him clawed at its chains, battering down the shields he had put up. Kunal felt himself beginning to turn, the transformation striking like a gale of wind.

A ferocity—raw, primal, hungry—coursed through him and he grasped at the edges of his humanity, fighting off the animal inside of him.

A glance at Esha’s unmoving form was the last straw.

He lunged at Laksh, talons flashing out, and threw him to the ground, rivulets of blood dripping down the punctures he had left in Laksh’s arms. The skin on Kunal’s shoulder blades became taut and burned.

Kunal paused for half a breath, horrified that he had been the cause of Laksh’s wounds, but the ferocity in his blood raged even as he tried to pull back his control.

But it was too late.

Laksh had gone still, staring at Kunal in fear—and awe.

Esha had felt better, that was for sure.

She had taken the brunt of the blow to her right side, falling into blissful black. But now her vision was back, faint words flitting around the edges of her consciousness.

“Heen rayan,” Laksh was saying reverently. Esha pulled herself to full consciousness, pain replaced by terror. “We’ve been looking for you. Of all the secrets we thought the general was hiding, I never thought you would be one of them.”

Esha rose up unsteadily. She saw Kunal breathe a visible sigh of relief, which only made Laksh chuckle.

A sharp crack startled Esha, who winced only to realize it was the hard tread of Saran, who was also staring at Kunal wide-eyed.

Esha felt her strength coming back, determination to end this giving her the power she might not have had otherwise. She had the advantage to take Saran unawares.

She made sure her tread was soft as she approached Saran from behind.

Laksh’s words rang in Kunal’s head.

Heen rayan.

In seconds his identity, his story, his freedom had been stripped bare. Fear had abated the roil in his blood, pulling him back from a full transformation.

“We need you, Kunal. Our cause needs you. With you, the heen rayan, a rightful Samyad, we have the key to power. Birthright. Think of what we could do—what you could do with our group,” Laksh said.

Kunal paused, wondering why Laksh hadn’t tried to escape yet, when he felt the blow hit his head from behind. He collapsed, his talons digging into the dirt as he skittered across the jungle floor.

Kunal’s body shuddered in confusion, fighting to stay human as Jageet’s shadow loomed over him.

Esha had finally knocked Saran down with her whips, and she felt exhaustion setting in, making her limbs scream.

She was about to wrap her whip around his neck when she saw Laksh moving toward Kunal—no, toward the jungle now.

Trying to live to fight another day.

Well, she had no compunction about not letting him live anymore, no matter how valuable he might have been. Not after he had seen Kunal turn, knew the secret of his blood. This leader of theirs, this Dharmdev, would know within days, and Kunal would never live in peace again.

She drew out the knife she had hidden in the sole of her sandal, specially wrapped due to the poison it was dipped into.