The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(3)

“I’ve heard tales of more than just a dry spell up north,” she said, almost cautiously. When he inclined his head at her, she continued. “The price of wheat has increased this season, which I’ve heard is because of a lower yield due to the weather. It’s even affecting the pearl market in the far east.”

She was smart, that was obvious. But most of the traders who passed under the shadow of the Fort were content to know only what was going on within Jansa’s borders. Kunal tried not to show his surprise at her knowledge. What made her different?

“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve heard a number of traders who were stopping by the port complain that their goods aren’t selling like they used to, even in Gwali.”

“Even in the capital? Must be serious,” she said, chuckling. For a second she had looked as if she was going to say something else, but instead she changed the subject, asking about other news from the capital.

Kunal told her what he knew of the new cease-fire, watching her out of the corner of his eye. There was something about her, something fascinating, that compelled him to keep talking.

They arrived at the start of the graveled footpath, following the edge of the cliff the Fortress sat on down to the sandy beach below.

A tendril of black hair escaped her uttariya and fell across her cheek. Kunal wondered what it’d be like to brush it aside, draw that gaze to him.

He considered the impulse, but his hands remained at his sides.

Helping the girl was one thing. His uncle wouldn’t excuse anything more. He shook his head as if to erase the thought. He needed to get back to his post before anyone noticed he was gone.

“Follow this path down to the harbor and you should be able to slip onto your ship before the captain notices,” Kunal said.

“You’re not going to walk me down?” she asked, angling her face up at him.

He hesitated. It was a bold question, but not without cause. He couldn’t tell if she actually wanted him to, her face unreadable.

He shook his head. “No, I have to get back to my post. But I’ll watch from up there,” Kunal said, pointing up to his perch. “If you need anything, anything at all, wave.”

Her eyes darted between him and the Fort.

“Thank you,” she said, her words carrying a strange intensity. He nodded.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” He reached for her hand. Startled, she looked up and he held her gaze, refusing to give it up. Kunal brought her hand to his lips. “What is your name?”





Chapter 2


Esha was so unsettled by the soldier’s warm gesture that she spoke before thinking.

“Esha.”

She took her hand away and had to stop herself from clamping it over her mouth.

Stupid.

What had possessed her to give him her real name?

His warm eyes? The first kind expression she’d received from a boy in a while that didn’t hide a secret agenda or dismiss her because of her gender?

Three weeks without regular human contact would drive anyone out of their mind, and it had turned her weak. Falling over herself and revealing her name for a handsome face and a kind word? Who was she?

She needed to remove herself from this conversation, finish her mission, and return home to feast with her friends and comrades. She’d even let herself find a boy to kiss under the stars.

Maybe Harun. But it couldn’t be this one.

Esha looked at him standing across from her, his black hair blowing in the gusty wind. She took in every detail, sizing him up and folding the rest of the information away. He was a soldier, thickly muscled and sturdy, his brown skin tanned from days spent outside, she guessed. Scars crawled up his knuckles and a few dotted his shoulder, one carving into the edge of his full lips. But his pale amber eyes revealed something gentle.

If he was gentle, he wouldn’t be able to survive her. If he was a brute, he would be like every other Jansan soldier and she’d be glad to end his life.

“Esha,” he repeated. The corners of his eyes crinkled with genuine pleasure and Esha couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m Kunal.”

A violent wind ran through, causing the quiver of arrows slung across his back to rattle against his bronze cuirass, tangling with the uttariya thrown across his shoulders. He wore no turban to signify his status as many Jansan men did, but the bronze cuirass and gold cuffs were enough. In his armor, he was an arresting picture of strength, but Esha was drawn to his smile. It transformed his face from cold to surprisingly warm.

“Perhaps I’ll see you around here again.” There was a hopeful lift to his words. “Maybe I can convince our cook that we need to add poppy seeds to all of our bread,” he said with a small grin.

“Well, your fellow soldiers might blame you when they find themselves with horrible stomachaches.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

Esha shook her head solemnly. “No, we wouldn’t want to start a riot over a few extra poppy seeds.” She squinted at him. “Think about it. ‘The Poppy Seed Rebellion.’ What a horrible name.”

“At the very least, it would be an interesting tale. That is, if I managed to keep my head in said rebellion.”

She was doing her best to defeat her own traitorous smile. “It would be the first thing to go. Your head for the extra barrel of poppy seeds.”