The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(33)

And now she was finally ready for her mission.

She’d been planning this since leaving the Tej, riding straight for Faor as soon as she got a horse. If Jiten had given her false information, she’d go back and take his fingers for good.

She had little to go off except for the reports and whip, the latter of which she couldn’t analyze till she got back to Mathur. This was her chance to discover more about why she’d been framed, and who might know her connection to the Blades.

Despite her new goal, she hadn’t forgotten the previous mission Harun, her oh-so-wonderful prince, had sent her on. Aside from killing the general and retrieving the report their fellow rebel had died protecting, she was also supposed to assess the weakness of the janma bond and the severity of the drought in Jansa.

The river still ran cold and strong here in Faor, but Esha had noted the drought-stricken towns that might be in need on her ride in. Dharka’s river was still unaffected by the fracturing of the janma bond, but Harun wanted updates to monitor the situation, to know where they could smuggle across supplies for the people. He said it was to garner popular support for the Crescent Blades, but Esha knew it was because of his soft heart.

She still hadn’t told Harun that soldiers were after her, that one knew her identity, and that someone else had gotten to the general first and framed her. And might know more.

Esha cringed at the thought of how her prince would reply to that note. Even if the message was encoded, if it was intercepted, it could put the Blades in great danger. Better—and safer—to deliver that kind of news in person.

She had kept an ear to the ground when she had entered Faor earlier, listening to the traders’ whispers around the town well. The news of the general’s death, or that the Viper was the main suspect, hadn’t reached them yet.

Instead the townspeople had sounded hopeful that this cease-fire would be the one to lead to lasting peace. The towns around the river hadn’t taken the same brunt of warfare—razed farmlands, destroyed buildings—that the border towns had, yet there was an excitement. Relief.

Esha’s heartstrings tightened, knowing that if she didn’t figure out why she and the Blades had been framed, it could threaten the fragile buds of peace that were now growing.

If their connection was revealed, it would look like the Dharkan throne had been behind the general’s assassination. Vardaan could use it as a reason to attack Dharka again and more lives would be lost.

The Viper was supposed to be the protector of her people—willing to take on the injustices of Vardaan’s regime. It had only been two years ago that her missions had become deadlier.

She had been young, too young, but no one else had the training or language skills she did. And she had been more than willing to take the risks. She had made Harun promise to separate himself and the Blades from the Viper, to stay unblemished.

She was already too far gone.

After being released from the dungeons of Gwali, she had been thrown on the streets with no food or money, only the clothes on her back. It was in a bazaar just like the one outside that a young noble boy had caught her picking his pocket and had grabbed her arm, noticing the valaya on her wrist, the starved look on her face. Instead of taking her to the guards, he had smuggled her into his family’s caravan. King Mahir had been the one to notice that the wild-looking child that her son dragged in was the late Dharkan ambassador’s daughter.

Harun and his family had taken her in when she had nothing. She would do whatever it took to ensure that the peace King Mahir desired would hold.

Esha tried to relax the crease in her brow as she tugged Arpiya’s letter from her pack, smoothing it out over her lap to reread.

Hello, my darling,

The days here are hot and wet, and the jasmine bushes are blooming. The boys are as irritating as ever . . .

Missing Arpiya was constant, in a way that differed from the way she missed the others back at the base. She loved Bhandu’s humor and loyalty, Aahal’s wit, Farhan’s quiet strength. And she and Harun had grown up together, finding purpose in their mutual loss.

But Arpiya had been there during Esha’s worst moments and knew her every thought—and cared for her still. It was her friendship that had kept the broken fragments of her soul together during her nightmares, her longing for a normal life.

With a sigh she tucked the note away and moved to open the window, whistling sharply. A large owl flew down to the windowpane with unsteady lurches and perched on the edge, blinking at her.

She picked up her note to Harun, wrapped it quickly with twine, and secured it in the owl’s claws. It stared at her for a minute and she blinked back in response. Realizing the problem, she clicked her tongue, pulling out a small treat, and the owl nipped at it, hooting in quick succession before setting off.

The sun was high in the sky, and Esha knew the bazaar would be opening in a matter of minutes. She tried to return her focus to the current mission and away from the dozens of questions that clashed in her mind. They wouldn’t be solved by the force of her worries.

Esha moved back to the small table in the middle of the room and reached under her dress, drawing out one of the knives to sharpen. The sound of metal against stone filled the small space, but still the occupant didn’t wake.

She grinned. A sleeping draft worth its hefty price—just as the merchant had promised. A person could get lost in the bazaar here in Faor.

She was counting on it for the task ahead.