The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(75)

“I did used to go out in the field more, you know. Just recently with my father’s worries and night terrors increasing . . .”

“I know.” She laid a hand on his forearm, a small reassurance. He looked at it, then her, something softening across his sharp features. “How is the search for Reha going, by the way? Any progress?” She ventured the question with a tentative smile, her eyes focusing in on him, looking for any wayward expression.

Harun shook his head. “Nothing promising yet. There are more teenage girls out there than you’d think.” A flash of despair crossed his face despite the humorous tone of his words. “And Arpiya wanted to come, but I asked her to stay back and keep training the new recruits. Without you around to scare them witless, it’s been slow going,” he said, with that languid smile of his that always made her grin back.

Harun seemed to be truthful, his expression open and almost vulnerable.

He hesitated. “And I wanted to get you. I can’t tell you what it’s been like. You killed the general, Esha. A victory for the scrolls. And then everything went wrong—you had to change course, there was no communication, and we found out you were being pursued from Tana.” Harun closed his eyes for a moment. “I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

She looked up at him, her tight posture relaxing a bit as she understood. “I never asked you to worry about me.”

A look of hurt crossed his face. “And yet here we are. I can’t help it.” He cleared his throat. “I worry about all my recruits. And you’re my greatest asset. We have another performance coming up for a new group of nobles, as you requested.”

Esha let it slide. A nice save.

She nodded.

“I’m a little rusty, but I can practice a bit before the performance. I have some ideas. We can talk more at the base,” she said, throwing him a smile.

Usually, Bhandu was the spot of light in their small band of rebels.

Esha could always rely on him to have a joke or witty comment on hand. But now, his jokes grated against her skin like sandpaper and his witticisms made her want to cover her ears. All she could think about was the unconscious boy thrown over Bhandu’s shoulder.

She couldn’t even look back because Harun was watching her like he was waiting for her to slip and reveal something—she didn’t even know what at this point.

So many secrets were now nestled in her chest.

They hadn’t seen Kunal’s shifting—yet Esha still felt a sense of unease.

The sky above them flashed with lightning, teasing the coming of the storm. By her calculations, it was about fifteen minutes out from where they were. That’s how much time they’d have to get across the pass before it flooded or border soldiers caught sight of them.

It was monsoon season.

No Dharkan took the monsoons lightly. Water could be as treacherous as the other elements—slow, calculated, unforgiving. It could renew and give life and snatch it away in the next moment.

And now she had another life on her hands. It was an odd feeling. Death had been her companion for so long that life seemed fragile—easily broken.

Bhandu’s voice pierced her haze of thoughts. He was fighting with Harun. Again.

“We should take the low pass. I can’t carry this load of muscle and bones through the high pass,” Bhandu said, his voice strained.

“Don’t be so lazy. And I don’t mind if you knock him around a few rocks here and there,” Harun replied, his words dry as the Jansan soil. “More to the point, the high pass will be quicker and we don’t have much time to get through to the other side before the rains start.”

“You wouldn’t let me cut off that other soldier’s finger and send it back to their Blood Fort,” Bhandu whined, trying another tactic. The lone horse, a gelding, the team had brought had Rakesh thrown over it, still passed out, though this time it was from Bhandu’s draft. The twins pulled on the gelding’s reins.

Esha whipped around, glaring at both Bhandu and Harun.

She pointed at Bhandu. “You need to stop whining, it’s giving me a headache.” Bhandu threw her a wounded look. “Why do we have you around if not for your big, brawny muscles? I picked you out from rest of the lot during that wrestling match for a reason. You’ve beaten every blacksmith in Mathur.”

There, a smile. Esha knew how to play Bhandu like an instrument, strumming him with compliments. Harun was harder.

She faced him. “And you, you couldn’t have brought another cursed horse? You knew we’d have at least one body.” Bhandu snickered. Harun didn’t flinch from her stare.

“But Harun’s right.” Esha sighed, ignoring Bhandu’s pout. “We take the high pass over the hills or we get washed away in the rains or one of the waterfalls. You know what happened to the Green Squad, Bhandu.”

“Yes, I do.” He hefted Kunal again, readjusting him on his shoulder. “I’ll listen to her. Don’t think I’m listening to you, oh Prince Harun.”

Harun rolled his eyes, easing his crossed arms apart. “No, never that.” He glanced at Esha, his eyes insistent. “We’d probably all be better if we listened to Esha.”

An apology, then. It was the only kind she would expect from Harun. She barely acknowledged it, meeting his eyes for a moment before breezing past him.