The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(37)

This runaway, this ex-Blade, was doing whatever was in her ability to fight for the life she wanted with her love—even if it meant possible death.

The icy cool that had been in her veins began to thaw, and her throat went dry with a desire that had been bottled up over years and years. To have someone to love that deeply, to be loved that deeply. It brought an image of her father’s kind eyes to her mind, the way he’d let her have her favorite mango-shaped sweets even after she had been naughty or had skipped a lesson with the tutor. The way he would pluck a jasmine for her every day to add to her flower braid.

“For Dalia,” Esha whispered, her voice firm and resolute.

Confusion flashed in the girl’s eyes, and then, gratitude. Viper or no, she wasn’t in any place to question Esha’s benevolence and she seemed to know it.

“Lean on me, and let’s get you somewhere where you can rest. We’ll talk more.” Tana tilted her head in acknowledgment.

Esha patted the satchel, her fingers tracing the outline of the ruby necklace, before lifting the girl forward from the wooden beam.

She took a deep breath and they began to move, little by little. Esha pulled the girl’s uttariya over her head, darkening her face as the crowds of market-goers pushed against them like a wave.

The girl tried to help, but she was clearly too light-headed. The struggle of getting them out of the bazaar was firmly on Esha’s shoulders, and with a panicked glance around, Esha realized they might not make it.

Esha’s grasp became sweaty and weak in the heat of the sun and she tugged at the fabric on the girl’s sleeve. Never had she so wished for an extra pair of hands on a mission.

Esha tripped on an errant rock and the runaway lurched forward. As if the gods themselves had heard, a strong pair of arms caught the fainting girl as she swooned forward.

Tana’s eyes fluttered open as her cheek hit her savior’s chest, flashing with terror before turning blank. An expert move executed even while fainting. It was a true pity the girl had gone and fallen in love—she would’ve been a perfect spy for the Blades.

Esha shielded her eyes as she looked up at the soldier holding her target, his bronze armor shining in the midday heat like an ominous sun.





Chapter 24


Kunal remembered the first time he visited a bazaar, when his mother had taken him for solstice shopping. The crowd was just as crushing, except now, people moved around him, eyeing the way he held his knife.

He caught up with his target and waited for the right moment.

Rakesh shouldn’t have showed up here.

When Rakesh neared a side road, Kunal rammed into the man, pushing him against the wall, his knife at his neck. The man squirmed in his grasp, making sounds that only served to annoy Kunal further.

“What are you doing here, Rakesh?” Kunal whispered into his ear. His newly purchased leather forearm guards, less conspicuous than the gold cuffs he had given away, thudded against the bronze of Rakesh’s cuirass. “If you were following me, you should’ve taken off the armor.”

“I’m not following you,” the man hissed back, his voice angry but tinged with fear. He inhaled a deep breath. “You’re not going to kill me. You’re Kunal the Perfect,” he intoned.

“I’ve killed plenty.” Kunal tightened his grip.

Rakesh attempted a brave face, but his skin paled. He kicked back his elbow, but Kunal caught his arm and kneed him below his ribs. Rakesh fell to his knees like a sack of grain.

“Sure, but only under orders. You don’t do anything unless it’s under orders, soldier,” Rakesh managed to say, despite his rattling breaths.

That rankled Kunal, and he couldn’t quite place why. He did things for himself, under the orders of no one. Kunal stepped on Rakesh’s ankle.

“Enough. This isn’t about me.”

His nostrils flared. There was truth in Rakesh’s words. Kunal wouldn’t kill him, because he believed in winning in a fair fight. Eliminating a competitor in a dark alley wasn’t part of his code. Somehow that thought comforted and yet bothered him at the same time.

“You’re right,” Rakesh groaned. “I was following Laksh, not you. He’s the easier mark.”

Kunal’s brow furrowed, unsure what Rakesh meant.

The easier mark.

It dawned on Kunal. Rakesh had no intention to fight fair. Why should he? He didn’t need a strategy of his own to track the Viper, he need only borrow another’s and then eliminate them if they succeeded.

Kunal felt a rising concern for Laksh—and rage at Rakesh. He stepped on Rakesh’s ankle again and the soldier yelped.

“The ‘easier mark’? I might follow orders, but I’m no idiot.” Laksh had better be alive, or Rakesh wouldn’t leave this town with his body fully intact. “Where is he?”

Rakesh said nothing, panting heavily. Kunal pulled Rakesh’s head back by the hair, his hands fisted in the tight curls, enjoying the moment when Rakesh realized that Kunal was no longer bound by orders here.

The soldier’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“Where is Laksh?” Kunal demanded.

Rakesh said something quiet and Kunal leaned in. It was a mistake, and before Kunal could register it, Rakesh had rammed him backward into the alley wall.

Kunal doubled over, coughing as dust entered his nose and mouth.