The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(91)

They trained early here, something he understood in his bones. The early morning sun streaking across a sanded ground had been a constant image in his life, and he was looking forward to rediscovering some of that in this foreign city.

Kunal hadn’t been able to forget about the kiss, and he had tried. It had been days since it had happened and other than a brief conversation, he had barely seen Esha. She had cornered him for a few minutes two days before, telling him quickly about the cover story she had given and why. Kunal was to pretend to be a soldier who had decided to turn away from the Fort, help the rebels.

It was easier than he would’ve thought.

He had made up a story about seeing the ravages of war on the towns and the destruction of the land for the team. Esha had nodded along in the back when he told them, clearly happy with his acting.

He hadn’t had the heart to admit—to her or himself—how much truth there was in the story. Everyone seemed to buy it, though, except for Harun, who just stared at him. As long as his secret wasn’t revealed, he’d deal with a number of stares from the prince.

He tried not to think about the other secret that had been revealed, of his uncle’s death. He had turned it over and over in his mind, wondering and questioning and hurting. But thoughts of his uncle still felt heavy, especially after what he had learned about Sundara. After Esha’s assertion that his uncle had been protecting him for years. He struggled to reconcile the two, his heart burdened with the new knowledge of his parentage.

In spite of all of that, he was excited for the training ahead of them this morning. Moving his body in familiar motions would bring clarity to the confusion in his mind.

And he’d see Esha again . . .

What was worse about the way they left the kiss was that he understood Esha—her desire to see her plan through, that she enjoyed her role as the Viper.

He had seen it with his own eyes, and how could he speak against something that seemed so much a part of her? At the same time, he had seen how it affected her, how it weighed on her. He wasn’t sure if she even realized that.

He pushed aside his thoughts, knowing that her kiss had saved him from saying what he knew was true—that he still identified with being a soldier of Jansa, in spite of his uncle. It was the part of him that he had to be careful about here, in the palace.

Part of him still wanted the simple life in the countryside. But he also wanted her fire and warmth.

Another part of him yearned to do what he’d sworn an oath to do. To protect Jansa and his people.

There were so many paths in front of him, and he had not a clue which one was the right one. If he was being honest, he hoped someone would beat the answer out of him today.

Kunal wasn’t sure what to expect, having just received a note telling him to come down for training with the squad. He had worn the loose cotton dhoti that had been left for him, slapping on his own leather forearm guards—which had mysteriously reappeared in his belongings.

Kunal had climbed up to the parapets at the top of the palace earlier that morning. Of course he had found the tallest point of the area, reveling in the feeling of weightlessness so high above the ground, the way the buildings below looked like ants.

He’d also spotted the training grounds. They had been hidden in the east gardens of the palace, in an area that looked to be overgrown to the point of neglect. From above he could see how it was just a deterrent—beyond the thicket and crumbling walls was an open area dedicated to training. The guards who appeared, yelling at him to come down from the parapet, indicated that the area was watched.

His body was still weak and it had taken him a half hour longer than normal to climb, but it had been worth it to feel so free. Even though he might not be in a prison cell, like Rakesh was, he was a prisoner in this palace, despite the beautiful room and lack of chains.

After the rightness he had felt while turning, almost everything felt confining now. There was still a bud of disbelief in his chest. How could he be a Samyad? A shape-shifter?

He thought back to the clues that now made sense, how being in the air had always given him a sense of peace that felt raw, natural. And those headaches he got while tracking, was it his body’s desire to turn? Or was it from his uncle’s conditioning to control his emotions, therefore delaying the turning? And how did one control one’s turning?

He had so many questions and had no idea who to ask, or where to go to get answers. It was a gnawing tension in his chest, all of this curiosity. His thirst to understand.

If he had a moment to himself, he could sneak to the library. But he longed for someone to talk to about his newfound family.

Kunal felt alone again, adrift in this huge palace. Playing the role of someone he wasn’t, in more ways than one.

At least he knew where to go without having to ask any of the guards. He hurried out toward the east garden, following them through hidden doors into a large, open space with sanded floors punctuated by short stone columns.

Targets lined up in rows along the edge of one side and figures with curved longbows took turns aiming and letting their arrows fly. At the far corner, a square was outlined in chalk on the floor, and two men danced across it with wooden practice maces swinging at their sides. Dharkan shield fighting was being practiced in the other corner, two girls dodging and ducking each other, armed with a round silver shield and thick curved swords. Around the perimeter, boys and girls were running drills.

Kunal looked through the chaos for Esha but instead caught sight of the burly boy—Bhandu—near the targets.