The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(46)

He snorted at that, and a ghost of a smile flitted over Esha’s mouth.

“I don’t hear you promising not to kill me in my sleep, so I think I’ll pass.”

He crouched before her, close enough that she could see the flutter of his eyelashes and smell the faint scent of clove and sandalwood on him. He tore a piece of the roti and offered it to her. She glared at him before opening her mouth and he popped it in. Her taste buds alighted and she savored the morsel.

This roti, dusted with spices and seeds, was definitely worth losing her dignity.

Or that was what she was telling herself. He fed her with careful attentiveness but the smirk never left.

It made her want to hit him again.

“It’s so easy to read your thoughts right now.”

She scoffed at this. No one said that about the Viper. He looked at her as he tapped his nose.

“You’re imagining all the ways you want to hit me. I bet a punch square to the nose is looking pretty good to you.”

For just a moment she felt like a normal girl being teased by a handsome boy. She could almost forget that he was one of the soldiers she had dedicated the past ten years to fighting, and would soon be the dreaded commander if he succeeded in taking her back.

It helped that her hands and feet were still tied, bringing her back to reality.

She looked away quickly from his eyes, which had become too warm, too familiar.

“Yes, direct to the nose. It is a bit too straight.”

He laughed, and she tried to stop the small grin on her face.

“It’s a prerequisite for entrance into the Fortress. ‘Must have perfect, straight nose.’” His mouth quirked into a sardonic smile. “Do you want more?”

The rest of his rations were on the floor and she realized he had barely eaten his share. She began to shake her head no but the rumble in her stomach betrayed her. He broke the rest of his roti into pieces, dipping it, folding it around the spicy mixture like a small parcel, and offering it to her.

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m not one to lie.”

His voice was soft and she jerked away, not meeting his eyes.

“Perhaps not. But you are still a soldier,” she said evenly.

“I owe you a debt and I will not hurt you, on my honor as Naria’s child.” His jaw tightened. “But you killed a man. Outside the norms and laws of battle.” He sighed. “I would take anyone back. It’s my duty.”

She stared at him. “Tell me something I don’t know, soldier.”





Chapter 29


That word again. Soldier. He hated how her use of that word reduced him to one of those thin flaps of wood, one-dimensional and facet-less.

“Fine. Here’s something,” he said, his brow furrowing. “I never wanted to be a soldier.” That seemed to get her attention.

“What did you want to be, then?”

Kunal hesitated. But he had already started and he wanted her to see him as he saw himself: complex. Good, in spite of having done things he’d rather forget about.

“An artist, perhaps a painter. But I never would have been allowed. I was given a bow and blade instead. Lucky me, I happened to be good at fighting and whatever I wanted for my own life disappeared. I was to become a soldier.”

In the likeness of Uncle Setu.

He heard his voice turned bitter and she cocked an eyebrow at him. Kunal knew he was telling too much to her, his enemy.

But the story brought out feelings he had made himself put aside, for they had no place in his life. After his mother’s death, he had clung on to the one thing his uncle approved of, the one thing that made him look at him with something akin to pride. He had believed his uncle when he had said he was carrying on his tradition and the tradition of Kunal’s father by becoming a soldier. And so he had abandoned dreams of art, hiding them away for those moments when he was alone.

But now he was realizing he was simply a tool of a king who cared little for his people or their land. From the drought-stricken town of Ujral to the broken-down city halls in Faor, Kunal was slowly seeing a new side to Jansa. One where people cowered and justice crumbled under might.

His uncle he had deferred to—he had given him respect. He was his only remaining blood relative, after all. But Vardaan . . .

Kunal stopped. His thoughts had turned treasonous, and they felt different now, as if there was a power behind them. It surprised him, the intensity with which they hit him. Her words of challenge brought up his own fraught thoughts since Ujral.

He glanced back up to see Esha watching him, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I wouldn’t have thought you, all muscled and menacing, would have wanted to do anything other than slice your blades through bodies. I guess I was wrong. You do have a heart under all that bronze.”

She smirked, eyeing him up and down, causing his stomach to tighten. Her next look only made the knots in his stomach worsen.

“Makes it all the more difficult to hate you,” she said quietly, her eyes softening.

She said nothing more, letting the space between them turn quiet.

Why had she become the Viper? Why had she killed his uncle?

He wanted to understand this frustrating woman. More than that, he wanted to fight back, assert that all he had done was follow orders and he had believed he was protecting their country. Yet he knew it wasn’t an excuse.