The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(39)

Esha stopped them when she caught sight of the blue house and pointed at a house down the street, holding a finger to her mouth. The soldier paused and she tilted her head up at him.

“I can’t have our father seeing us sneaking back in. He’ll keep us housebound for another moon! And I must have new bangles for next week’s festival,” she said, smiling earnestly. “Put her down here and we’ll sneak back up through the kitchens. If you don’t mind, that is,” she added, biting her lip.

“Of course,” the soldier said. “I wish I could see you to the house myself . . .”

She shook her head firmly. “No, I wouldn’t ask that of you. You must have so much more important things to be doing as a soldier.”

His eyes seemed to refocus and he nodded, almost in distraction, as if he had remembered something. “Nothing more important than helping a beautiful girl.”

She blushed and pulled the corner of her uttariya over her eyes, letting only her smile peek out as she waved a hand.

Despite the act, Esha kept a keen eye on him as he bent down to place the girl on the ground and then looked up at her. He asked her a question, and she nodded without listening.

All Esha could think about was the way the soldier was exposing his neck, and how easy it would be, how simple to draw her knife and hide his body in the garden.

Her hand rested on her thigh. The killing instinct rose in her blood.

It was a familiar call, warm and inviting.

Before she could make a move, he had straightened, and her advantage had vanished in her moment of weakness.

Esha watched the soldier—Laksh—amble back toward the city center before she breathed a sigh of relief. He had spent a few minutes chatting with her about inane things, clearly looking to be invited in, but she had done her best to get him to leave.

This time, she had given a fake name. Esha couldn’t know if there would be more soldiers in the area—she’d need to get out of here as soon as she could.

The problem was the girl. She couldn’t leave her in some alleyway.

Esha looped her arm under the girl’s body, dragging her toward the garden of the blue house. She ducked them inside the basement kitchen.

The girl fell against the kitchen wall, almost knocking over a metal pot as she rubbed her neck. With a sigh, Esha collapsed against the wall too. She told herself it was just for a second, just because this girl was so heavy.

But she was tired, and it started in her heart.

“Have you dragged me all this way to kill me?” Tana asked, color finally coming back to her face.

Esha scoffed. “That would be highly inefficient. No, I chose to save you. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. It wasn’t my original intention anyway.”

Some of the wariness fell away from the girl, and she slid to the ground, leaning her head against the wall. The girl coughed, her breaths like rattling swords. “Thank you, then. I know the punishment for deserters and you didn’t need to . . .” The girl paused and then finished with, “. . . weren’t supposed to save me.”

Esha shook her head. She was no hero, despite the girl looking at her as if she was one.

That note had been an arrow to her heart. The heart she claimed to not have or hid away deep within herself. Seeing someone risk certain death for love—would she ever find that again?

Once a killer, always a killer. Once your hands were stained, you could never be an innocent. And her hands had been stained many times over.

She wondered what her father would think of her now.

“I didn’t want to desert the rebels,” the girl said. “But I had—”

“I saw the necklace and the note, Tana,” Esha said. Tana shifted to face her, eyes shining with gratitude.

Esha turned her face away. She had only done what she thought was right.

“It’s best that we part. Take your time to rest here and gather supplies. I was never here and we never met. Find your way back to the bazaar and go to the life you want. Tell no one about me.” Tana opened her mouth in protest and Esha shushed her. “Take on a different name—it’ll be better for escaping notice anyway. Tana Pamina is dead after today, understand?”

Tana nodded briefly and sat up. Esha could tell she wanted to talk, something Esha did not want to do. She moved to leave, but the look on Tana’s face stopped her.

“What is it?” Esha said.

“I heard something,” the girl said, interrupting Esha’s thoughts. Esha raised an eyebrow, waiting. “My last contact had a run-in with a few soldiers, before realizing they were Senaps—in their small town, of all places.”

Senaps away from the palace or border? That was information, interesting information, though Esha couldn’t be sure what it meant. She gave the girl an appraising look.

“I also heard Vardaan is moving troops from the borders back into Jansa. It might have something to do with that.”

Esha pursed her lips and asked, “And the cease-fire? Any noise on the upcoming peace summit?” Tana hadn’t framed her, so she shouldn’t know about the general’s death.

“People are happy to have a respite. Nothing much else.”

What game was Vardaan playing? She knew the soldiers had found the whip, yet nothing. A few moons ago, Vardaan would’ve used such information to raze border villages.

“I heard Vardaan is happy, giving out jewels and land at court after the cease-fire. My gut says there’s more to it, especially after he’s relentlessly pursued our land for years. Something’s changed. Could be an alliance, could be some advantage they’ve developed militarily. I just don’t trust him, knowing how volatile he is,” Tana said.