The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(41)

“Getting distracted?” Rakesh scoffed. “I’m not surprised at all. You were always a jokester. I don’t even know why you were picked for this mission.”

Laksh ignored him. “This girl.” He whistled. “She had eyes that changed like the winds of the monsoon season.”

“Are you becoming a poet now, Laksh?” Kunal asked, with one eye on Rakesh.

“No, I think I’ll leave that to you, Kunal,” Laksh said. “I’ve seen better in the royal court in Gwali, don’t get me wrong. But her eyes—”

Unbidden images of Esha entered Kunal’s mind, face illuminated by the moon and the light of the Tej. Kunal started, guilt painting over the image, mixing in with memories of sitting across from his uncle.

He looked around, at Rakesh, realizing he had drifted off into a daydream. Laksh was still talking, but Kunal heard only bits and pieces.

“I walked her over to the east, where there’s a row of blue houses. Merchants, from the looks of it. Quite wealthy too.”

Kunal remembered the houses in a vivid rush of memory, an image he had tucked away to paint and one that now stood out starkly in his mind. They had ranged from a vivid cerulean color to the deepest midnight blue, with trellises that climbed up the sides, dotting the walls with bright bursts of pink hydrangeas. That area had been almost abandoned when he had strolled through it earlier, the merchants away on their annual trip to the east.

Rakesh picked up the round shield and inspected it. Kunal watched his hand graze the opal-encrusted hilt of a curved knife that sat next to it.

“Wealthy and beautiful? Seems like a prize you don’t deserve,” Kunal teased.

“I do quite well for myself,” Laksh said. “But this time it seemed a bit too much work even for me. Her sister had fainted due to excitement, apparently, but she seemed rather sicker than that. A protective father and a sick sister? Too much trouble.”

“Not up for the challenge?” Rakesh said.

“The girl wouldn’t even enter the house she was so terrified of her father,” Laksh said. “Why work so hard when I’m about to become commander and can take my pick of beautiful women?”

Kunal rolled his eyes. Laksh always talked like this, but he had only occasionally joined the other soldiers on their city excursions during campaigns. And then, often only to gamble.

Something about Laksh’s story seemed odd.

A protective father didn’t make sense—most merchants in this region were on their pilgrimage to the eastern coast for the annual trade festival right now. Why would she lie about where she lived if her father was most likely gone?

It hit Kunal as he ran his fingers over a quiver, admiring the delicate mirror work that created shifting illusions of color and light.

Beautiful eyes. An empty house and a story. A girl on the run.

Esha.

Laksh had just seen the Viper, spoken to her. His throat closed up at how close she had been. One wrong move and it would have been Laksh who captured her, not him.

The thought was a gut punch.

Kunal put down the quiver, imagining the different pathways to the blue house, how to get out of this ridiculous conversation, how to lead the others away.

No more distractions.





Chapter 27


Esha slid farther down the tub, letting her hair billow out in the water, floating like tiny snakes. Lifting her eyes, she took in the golden filigree that was etched across the ceiling and the sumptuous tapestries in shades of blue and pale cream that hung on the walls.

Tana slept soundly a few stories below, and with the amount of the draft in her body, she would stay there till the morning. By then, Esha would be gone.

Esha sighed. Faor had been a dead end on who had framed her, but something bigger was on her mind now.

Tana’s information on Vardaan, that he hadn’t publicized the news of the general’s murder, that he was happy, worried her. She hoped the report she had stolen back from the general would add context. There was something in there that the Fort had wanted to protect—perhaps it was news of an alliance.

That could mean the end of peace.

The only way to know was to translate that report. She’d go to Amali next and connect with Tana’s scholar contact. At least it was something.

She rubbed her eyes, letting the hot water drip down her face and onto her aching shoulders. She massaged them, taking care to work around the long scar that trailed her right shoulder, remnant of a reckless childhood. It had been worth it to draw the steaming bath, despite the effort and time it had taken. A week of grime eased off her body as she scrubbed herself raw and soaked. She let herself rest there, closing her eyes to enjoy the feeling of soothing water against her muscles.

For a few heartbeats, she let go of the constant tension that prickled under her skin, trying to enjoy the present. And the future? Experience told her that things always got worse before they improved—if they didn’t simply stay that way.

The silence and hot water lulled her into peace and she sighed, content. It had been a risk, stealing into this abandoned home, but she couldn’t resist a bath, hot food, and a real bed. No one would know she had arrived, and no one would know she had left.

A shadow passed over the window curtains and Esha sat up so quickly in the bath that half a bucket’s worth of water spilled and splashed onto the smooth stone floor, soaking into the tasseled edge of the sumptuous brocade carpet. All the peace that had begun to accumulate under her breastbone vanished.