The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(85)

“All I had was darkness in my heart and rage in my bones. Their family took me in after your general Hotha and his soldiers murdered my parents—when Harun was only a child as well and they were all hurting from the loss of his sister, the betrayal of his uncle. He, and his family, they saw something worth saving in me. That broken and wounded little girl. Yes, I was their ambassador’s daughter, but what they did for me, that was beyond polite kindness. Wouldn’t you want to give those people everything?” she asked, her voice soft and pained.

She moved to stand behind him, and Kunal felt her small hands on his back in a soft caress. Kunal closed his eyes, fighting back memories of his own, leaning into her touch.

“Yes,” he said simply. “But also no. Though that answer is only one I came to recently. Because of you.” He took a deep breath. “My uncle was that person for me. He hid my identity, took in his brother’s bastard son, and gave me purpose as a soldier. I thought I owed him everything. You’re not the only one who lost their family in the insurrection.” He paused. “And he’s dead. The only man who was like a father to me.”

The echoes of fury filled him, but it felt hollow now after everything he had been through.

“He was a horrible man—” she said immediately, her hands dropping from his back. Kunal cut her off, turning around to catch her hands, tugging her closer. She was wearing a multicolored silk sari now, her waist sash tied hastily. Her black curls tumbled down her face, her eyes bright.

“I never said he was a good man. I said he was the only father I knew.”

Kunal dipped his head, overcome. The old guilt was there, the blind devotion that had guided so many of his actions. He tried to wear that old armor, but it didn’t fit anymore.

It only deepened his sorrow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

His head snapped up.

“That isn’t something to joke about.”

“I’m not joking. Kunal, you have to believe me.”

“I have to believe you? You, the Viper—” He almost laughed, as if it was the only reaction possible.

“I lied before.” She pushed on as the humor left his face, as he listened. “I won’t deny I intended to, but when I slipped into his chambers, someone had gotten there first and left one of my whips behind. I lied to keep the charade going. I needed to know who had framed me, and if the true murderer knew I was searching for them, they might have gone into hiding. I would never find out who did it then.”

Was it possible? He had looked for something to damn or excuse her and had found nothing. Now, when he had accepted it all, he got the answers he had been looking for. The irony of the gods didn’t escape him.

A weight he hadn’t known was there lifted. He might be tangled up in Esha, but at least now he could look at her without the bloodstained edges of his former life. No more shadows.

Though he still felt confused, he tried to pull himself back to equilibrium.

“It wasn’t me—” she started again.

“Then who?”

He wanted to ask her why she lied, why she hadn’t told him from the beginning, but would he have listened? Who would be so reckless as to murder the Fort general and then blame it on the Viper?

“I’m still trying to figure that out. I still don’t know.”

Esha moved forward, putting her hand on his arm. “Kunal.” He looked at her, her gaze piercing him. “I’m sorry. The pain of losing a loved one is always deep, no matter what.”

He could tell by the crack in her voice that her apology was genuine, and he knew what it cost her to say those words. It eased over Kunal, a salve to the guilt that had been festering at the idea of letting Esha go, of dishonoring his uncle’s memory.

“He made me into this soldier. He gave me a future. But he also crushed my past, made it disappear until I couldn’t remember what my own mother’s voice sounded like. I always felt that the only way he could stand the sight of me was as soldier in his own image. Making me into a proper soldier—not like his brother. Maybe he had been trying to save me from being a pawn, as you said. Or maybe it was selfish. I won’t ever know.”

“I remember that her voice was beautiful,” she said gently.

She took his hand in hers, linking her calloused fingers through his equally calloused ones. It felt right.

“I remember bits and pieces of her songs, but he beat the poetry out of me and left cold steel instead. I still don’t know when I forgot the sound of my mother’s voice,” Kunal said, memories painting his words blue. “But this past moon, these weeks have pulled up years of memories I buried deep inside. Feelings, thoughts I’ve ignored.”

“Because of me?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.

Kunal hesitated. “Because of you coming into my life, yes.”

He sighed as she came closer, smelling the fragrance of her curls as they tickled his nose.

She pulled back, looking him square in the eyes.

“What if I agree with you—that I don’t owe them. But what if despite that, I still want to do this—be the Viper? What if I consider this my duty?” Kunal didn’t say anything, keeping his face blank. She continued. “I believe in what I do, in bringing back balance to the land. When I steal a missive, thwart a raid, cut down one of Dharka’s enemies, it makes my blood sing,” she said.