The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(38)

Rakesh charged at him and Kunal ducked, barely avoiding a blow to the face as Rakesh’s fist punched the stone wall instead. Rakesh fell back and cursed, cradling his hand, before taking off into the streets.

Kunal ran after him. Rakesh was moments away from blending into the huge crowd ahead when Kunal slid forward and wrapped his arms around him, shoving Rakesh against the wooden door of a nearby house, rattling the door.

He had his knife back against the soldier’s throat in seconds.

A mix of ice and fire burned in Kunal’s veins as he pressed the pointed tip of the knife below the bob in Rakesh’s throat, drawing a thin red line.

“Fine, fine! He’s here.” Panic gripped Rakesh’s voice.

“Not good enough,” Kunal growled, panting in heavy bursts.

Rakesh had put up a good fight and Kunal made note of it. He was not an opponent to take lightly.

“There.” Rakesh tilted his head to the bazaar, which was teeming with people and bursting with color just beyond their scuffle, wincing as his neck stretched. “He’s in the bazaar.”

Kunal’s breathing evened out and he shook his head, once. “Take me there. And if you run, I will find you. And I won’t be happy,” he said.

The cold brutality in his own voice surprised him.

Rakesh nodded once and Kunal let him go, then followed him into the bazaar.





Chapter 25


Esha watched the Fort soldier glance down at the girl in his arms and then at her. Then he looked between them again.

Esha’s heart stopped and started about twenty times in the span of those few seconds.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had a girl fall into my arms that easily before,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. She considered him, all tall and lanky with shiny armor, as people gave them both a wide berth and more than a few began to whisper.

He wasn’t her soldier.

She should be glad, for this one knew nothing of her identity. But a tiny, hated part of her felt a small pang. The other soldier, Kunal—he was an interesting puzzle, that was it.

As she drew breath in and out, calming her mind, she composed her face into a coy smile. This game she could play with her eyes closed.

“I’m so sorry, my sister doesn’t have a head for crowds.” Esha spoke in a pleading rush. “The dancing monkey, especially those backflips, and then all these people, it was too much,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes.

The soldier nodded as if it made perfect sense. “I’m the same way. An army full of Yavar horsemen, not a worry. A dancing monkey? Now that terrifies me.”

Despite the humor in the soldier’s voice, his smile didn’t quite seem to warm his gaze, which was as sharp as his features.

Esha giggled, taking care to make it look believable. “I think it was more the heat, but I do have to admit the idea of a dancing monkey is one for nightmares.”

“Exactly! If they can dance, what else can they do?” he asked with an impish waggle of his eyebrows. The coldness in his face seemed to disperse, but Esha could sense it underneath, waiting like the rapids of a frozen river.

His bronze armor glimmered in the buttery sunlight, flashing into her eyes in a way that triggered another memory, one that made her hand go without thought to the knife strapped to her leg. It would be so satisfying to kill a soldier, and this one had walked into her path. One more soldier dead, one closer to the one who had drawn his knife across her father’s, and then her mother’s, throat.

One less plague upon this land.

She stilled her hand. This soldier could help her move faster, if she used him well. Tana was now awake, but Esha could tell she was still feeling the effects of losing air.

“Thank you, emenda, but we must be going.” She waited for him to say something, letting silence fall unsteadily between them.

Esha counted in her head, waiting. If he had even a shred of decency . . .

“Let me help you,” the soldier said a few heartbeats later.

She unleashed her best smile upon the soldier in front of her, imagining the ways she could strangle him if he came even a little bit closer. “Really? How kind of you. My father always said soldiers were honorable men. I’ll show you the way.”

His chest puffed up slightly as he lifted Tana into his arms. Esha pointed vaguely ahead and they walked side by side, the townspeople clearing a path for the soldier.

“How do you like the bazaar?” the soldier asked, his eyes straying to her face whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

Esha scrunched her face up in delight. “I adore it and love to come at the end of every moon. My sister finds it well enough, but I had to convince her to sneak out to see the performances today.”

Esha looked ahead, determining the distance between the closest alleyways and checking the rooftops to see if they were connected. The land sloped downward as they left the raised city center and bazaar, and Esha led them to the east, where the wealthy townsfolk lived.

Returning to the inn was not an option, as its occupant was probably abed with a nasty headache, wondering where his morning had gone. She had noted a blue-painted house during her walk in the merchants’ quarter. A quick survey of the house and the gardens had told her the occupants were away.

And they had a tub.

She led them in that direction, making sure to keep the conversation light. They moved east toward the cliffs Faor was famous for, which curved around the eastern edge of the city, casting a shadow on all below.