The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(89)

“I barely know him.”

“Okay, then maybe not love, but something. Be thankful that the rest of the boys haven’t figured it out yet,” Arpiya said, her calmness a growing contrast to the fireball burning in Esha’s chest.

Was that why Harun had been acting so odd? She had thought he had been trying to assert his power over her, but maybe it had been about Kunal. Harun could be dangerous if pushed too far.

Yet again, her presence would cause someone else harm. Kunal deserved that life he had envisioned—a life of simplicity, art, and most important, anonymity. The inklings of a plan sprouted in her mind and she hid it carefully on her face, knowing Arpiya was watching her.

And love? No. No one could love an animal like her.

Immediately, the image of Kunal, talons and torn skin and otherworldly eyes, flooded her mind. If he was a beast, so was she. The first pinpricks of pain started above her heart, and slowly expanded. It didn’t matter what could have been.

Everything she touched became ruined. As a rebel, that was a benefit. She refused to ruin Kunal’s life, no matter how it hurt to think of losing the one person who could understand her—all of her.

No matter if he could help save the land. It was too uncertain and the cost was too high for him. The decision she had been weighing became clear.

Esha schooled her features into her best Viper face—blank with a smug upturn of her mouth. “I’m good at my job. As a turned asset, he should be halfway in love with me. Harun will be pleased.”

Arpiya stared at her, her gaze unblinking. “I know you’re good at your job, but . . .” She gave a small sigh. “Just be careful. Don’t let anyone know how you had the opportunity to kill him and let him live—more than once.”

“If the rebels have issues with how I do my job, they can find a new Viper. I always fulfill my missions and if they’re angry that I saved one person, one soldier, then . . . ,” Esha said with more heat than she had wanted to reveal.

Arpiya’s face had softened. “And there we go. That’s what you need to avoid. It’s clear to me that you care about this boy. Don’t let him become a weakness,” she said softly.

Esha heard the unspoken words—caring for a Fort soldier in any way was already a weakness.

“Anyway, you asked to go to the blacksmith. I set up the meeting. He’s waiting,” Arpiya said. Esha nodded, glad to be changing the subject.

She dug out the fake whip, the next piece of the puzzle.





Chapter 57


Arpiya dragged her through the early-morning haze of light, winding their way through the narrow stone passageways of Mathur.

The city was just beginning to wake, a slow yawn before dreams finally faded away into the distance. The merchants were already out, the denizens of the city just now making their way to pick up their food and goods for the day.

Esha loved this time of morning. People were more open, their worries clothing they hadn’t yet adorned.

They stopped to smell the ripeness of a jackfruit or ask after a shopkeeper’s newborn. Esha was out of the city too often, but Arpiya’s face was known and respected—stall keepers went out of their way to talk to her. These rounds kept the morale alive within the city. Arpiya dropped little hints of the successes and exploits of the Crescent Blades, propping them up in the minds and hearts of the people.

The city of Mathur wasn’t as colorful as some of the towns in Jansa, but its soul was old and bound with nature. You could see it in the reverence given to every animal and plant, from the large tree roots of the banyan that the bazaar was centered around to the sparrows that came to feed at the small stone bowls that had been laid out near the well.

Dharka was home, and for a moment Esha felt truly at peace. Centered. Her people were like the moon whose lord they claimed as their own, calm and steady.

When they finally stopped walking and Esha could catch her breath, she saw that they were standing in front of a set of double doors, carved with gold and silver depictions of the gods, that reached two stories high, uncommon in the short buildings of the city.

She raised an eyebrow at Arpiya, who responded with twinkling eyes and a tug at her arm, her delicate features giddy. They stepped through the massive arched doors into a huge courtyard, opened up to the peeking rays of the sun and warm breeze.

They hurried through the courtyard and through a secondary set of passageways until the sun was hidden from their view and all they could see in front of them was darkness. Arpiya looked back at her before pushing through the door in front of them.

The wave of heat that escaped hit them like a barrel, rolling over Esha and out into the passageway. Esha popped her head inside, her eyes wide at the rows of kilns set up along the room. Arpiya was already talking to a man in the back, a short, sturdy blacksmith with dark brown skin, his sweaty brow shining in the firelight.

She ventured forward, taking care not to disturb any of the other blacksmiths at their kilns, garnering a few uninterested glances up.

“Esha, I’d like you to meet our new blacksmith,” Arpiya said. “He can be trusted.”

Esha pressed her palms together in the Dharkan greeting, bending slightly. He returned the gesture—and she took stock of him. Kind eyes, strong hands, a passing resemblance to Arpiya with his low cheekbones and square jaw.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Esha. I’ve heard a lot about you from this one here.” Esha didn’t miss the look the man threw Arpiya; it spoke of familiarity and affection. “First, I’ve something to show you.”