The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(20)

“That’s possible, but my grandmother says that the Viper is the snake god reincarnated, his main goal to thwart the king’s army and to fight for justice,” Amir said, his voice dreamy yet insistent. “Just like the lost princess watches and weeps at the moon, waiting to avenge her family.”

“The lost princess is a story told by the rebels to garner sympathy. The real Princess Reha passed in her sleep a week after the coup, a victim of the pox. It’s ridiculous that these rumors remain that she escaped that night. The people of Jansa have nothing better to do than revel in made-up stories.” Rakesh snorted, shaking his head at Amir, curls of bark piled up at his feet as he continued to strip the branches in front of him, as if for fun. “But the Viper is truly otherworldly in his abilities.”

“If the Viper was indeed an animal of mythic origins, why did you all volunteer? None of you strike me as the type to have a death wish,” Kunal asked in genuine puzzlement.

Laksh was the only one of the group in front of him who made sense as the commander. He was a strong fighter and had a keen mind—and a healthy ambition. Kunal hadn’t had a chance to get Laksh alone and discuss all of this. He wasn’t sure if he would share the information he had, but he wanted to be able to talk to his friend freely.

Amir was a dreamer through and through. Kunal could see him joining simply to say he had gotten a glimpse of the Viper and tell the story to his many children once he was released from active duty. Rakesh was a strong soldier, fierce in battle, but had never shown any aptitude for responsibility or leadership, despite his desire for it. Kunal would have to keep an eye on him.

Rakesh responded before the others could. “For the glory of the king.” He hesitated and then added, “And to avenge our general.”

“Not to become the next commander?” Laksh said, hurtling a stick at Rakesh’s shoulder. Rakesh dodged it and turned back to him, annoyed.

“Yes, fine. That too,” Rakesh said, and it looked to Kunal as if he were almost blushing. It was odd enough to Kunal that he took a closer look at him.

Sweat beaded across his forehead even in the lighter heat of the forest, and his movements were twitchy. He was a large young man—tall and barrel-chested—and had probably been accepted as a soldier due to his size alone. Rakesh had no qualms about throwing it around either.

Kunal’s nostrils flared in frustration, and he scuffed the toe of his sandal deeper into the dirt of the forest. At least they had listened to him enough to go off the path and farther into the blanketed forest. Otherwise, they would have been easy pickings for raiders—or even the Viper. He—or she?—could be anywhere.

Maybe the guard had imagined the girl.

His heart leaped at the thought and his mind clenched an iron fist around it.

No, he was a lot of things, but he was no fool. He wouldn’t shut out any possibility until he had all the facts.

His heart calmed a fraction as thoughts clicked into place. So, he wouldn’t shut out the possibility that she was innocent either. He felt the slight buzz of the rice wine in his veins and a deep, sudden need to get away from the other soldiers. And he wanted to see more of the Tej, especially at night, and they had all refused to explore. The thought of leaving this forest without seeing its beauty made no sense to Kunal.

He stood up. The boys were in the midst of another conversation about what weapons might take down the Viper, but looked up at Kunal’s sudden movement. Kunal motioned at the empty flask on the ground and jerked a thumb in the direction of the forest. Attending to the call of nature was as good an excuse as any to get some time to himself.

“Don’t get eaten by a tiger,” Laksh said, saluting him.

“Or a Viper!” Amir added, his face breaking into a large, foolish smile. Rakesh chuckled.

Kunal said nothing, picking up his weapons and blending into the night.

Kunal had marked the trees with his machete on his way into the forest, but he was still having trouble finding his way back in the dark, despite the illumination. Exploring in the middle of the night seemed less and less like a good idea as the buzz of the rice wine faded.

First, he had been distracted by the high squawk of a blue-winged parakeet and then the low growl of a feline, one he couldn’t place, and so he had found himself lost in the deep rain forest. Kunal rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

His entire life, it was as if animals were singing to him, drawing him into their world. Though there were elephants and horses at the Fort, being in a jungle was different, almost irresistible. A pull he couldn’t escape, as if he could feel it in his very soul.

It was an enchanting song.

It was also a song that reminded him of his childhood—and his mother. Kunal remembered whispers of her voice singing to him, old folk songs and tales of Jansa’s history, and it plagued his dreams on restless nights. She had been a woman full of life and music.

Memories of his mother’s face still haunted him. She had been killed the night of the coup, despite only being a lady-in-waiting at court. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and his last memory of her was of her barricading him in their small bedroom with his nurse. Uncle Setu had found them later and had taken Kunal in, making him promise to never reveal to anyone what he had seen that night, where he had been.

He had never questioned any of it. He barely resisted when his uncle brought him back to the Fort, telling him he could be a great warrior like his father. He had fallen into the life of a soldier, hoping that it would make him forget the past and ease away the soft parts of him the general seemed to hate.