The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(60)

A cloud of dust kicked up as Esha walked away from the stall and she shielded her eyes with the loose edge of her turban. The warmth and lushness of the Tej seemed like a distant memory and Esha longed to get back to Dharka.

The first thing she would do once home was go climbing for a large, juicy mango, pick it from the tree, and eat it in the sunshine with its juice dripping down her forearms. The proper way.

The mangoes here were anemic, green and pink instead of a rich orange. Firm instead of soft like a woman’s curves.

Esha brought up the peach to her lips, imagining it to be that mango, when someone grabbed her arm and tugged her off balance. She caught herself before falling, catching the arm of a passerby who shook her off with a shake of his head. Her attacker was a hefty man in a linen dhoti decked in a green uttariya—which was topped off by the red fury of his face.

“Thief!”

Esha sputtered. Who was this man and how dare he? She was a lot of things, but she always paid for her food and goods. You weren’t raised as an ambassador’s daughter without understanding how important merchants and their livelihoods were to trade and economics in a country.

She put her hands up and turned toward the man to explain there was a mistake, but he grabbed her by the shoulders, continuing to yell in her face. Esha’s blood began to boil and she felt her fingers close into a tight fist. She poked the man viciously in the chest with her other hand, hard and fast.

“You are not listening to me,” she said in an emphatic staccato. “I am not a thief. And I do not appreciate your tone.” Her eyes had narrowed into slits and she could feel a low rage building in her stomach.

“No? Why do you have two peaches, two of my beautiful peaches, without any coin in my hand?” he asked, his red, sweaty face displaying that he had already decided the answer.

“I gave your attendant the coins. You should keep better track of them,” she hissed back, her fisted hand dangerously close to her whip.

“I have no attendant,” the man replied, his eyes bulging.

“He’s right there—” Esha looked over to see the scrawny man had disappeared, nowhere to be seen. She closed her eyes for a brief second, schooling her features.

“Lies, lies from a thief!”

She cursed inwardly. Unfortunate that she had let herself be duped so easily, but this was an easy solution. She would pay the man and be on her way, before the small crowd became bigger. Drawing attention had not been on her list of things to accomplish today.

Esha held up her hands. “An honest mistake. Let me pay you.”

She reached down into her belt, realizing with each empty swipe of her hand that she hadn’t just been duped, she had been made a mark. This was what resulted from her daydreaming about Kunal.

She bit her lip and looked apologetically at the man as she drew her empty hands out.

“Let me go back to my room and I’ll get you the—”

But the man had stopped listening, fury contorting his features. His hand strayed to his knife and before he could move any farther, Esha took off in a sprint.

Stupid. So, so stupid. Had she always been this careless or had it only started after meeting the cursed soldier? And taking off in a dead heat wasn’t exactly a great defense. The past weeks had made her jumpy.

She was constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering if, aside from the soldier, there was anyone else after her.

She was growing sick of having to run for her life. And she was feeling a little restless—and reckless.

Esha came to a full stop and turned, pulling out one of her whips and knife and easing into a crouch. She unfurled her whip, letting it hit the air with a warning flick.

This shopkeeper had picked the wrong girl to accuse.

In the distance, she saw a glimmer of green and behind the shopkeeper, two men armed to the hilt with short swords and maces. The men caught her eye. There was no reason to run after a thief of two peaches with armed men. This was something else.

Before she could continue her train of thought, an arm shot out and pulled her into darkness.

A cry escaped her lips but was muffled by a hand over her mouth.

Esha snarled and bit at the hand, struggling against the tight hold on her limbs. She threw her elbow back and it lodged into a soft part of her attacker, who gave a small yelp but didn’t let go of her.

“Stop, Esha.”

She went still. Kunal’s voice was a blast of cold air against the heat of her temper, drawing her back into the calm, collected part of her brain.

“And stop squirming like that.”

Esha stopped fidgeting, but tried to turn. Kunal caught her arm and spun her around, pressing her against the wall.

“Don’t say a word,” he growled, his words clipped. She couldn’t help the look of offense on her face. She had barely been around him for a minute and he was already annoyed.

“What—”

“I’m trying to help you.” He reached toward her turban before pausing and looking at her. “They’re looking for a boy in a turban, not a woman.” She nodded quickly in understanding.

Kunal yanked at her turban, unwinding the long cloth and tossing it into the darkness of the alley. Esha shivered at the contact, and the smart remark she was about to deliver died on her lips as she looked into his eyes. She noticed his stubble had grown into a full beard. It made him look older.

He cut off her words, unsheathing his knife. “Whatever you got yourself into, it’s much worse than you think.”