The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(97)
“No, the Viper can hang itself. I mean you. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Harun leaned in and quickly kissed her forehead, taking Esha aback. “Good luck.”
Esha nodded, her quick retort dying on her lips.
Luck hadn’t been by her side recently and she was hoping to woo it back.
Chapter 61
Esha and Kunal left at dawn as sunlight filtered across the sky.
The plan was to move fast and be back within a day or two. Harun had stressed that part. Their contact would be in town for only one day before he disappeared.
Esha threw a glance over her shoulder at Kunal, who was taking in the countryside as they bounced along the dirt road on two mares. They were dressed as a married couple, Esha wearing the necklace of gold and black beads that signified her status, as did the wide gold ring on Kunal’s right hand. He had been quiet, as if lost in his own world.
She supposed it was odd to be traveling together—both of them awake, uninjured, and neither chasing the other. They were at a peculiar impasse. Neither had mentioned the kiss, as if waiting for the other to be the brave one.
The soldier and the Viper.
Both could cut a man down without blinking but couldn’t talk about a kiss.
He caught her eyes this time, holding her gaze steady with clouded amber eyes. For a moment, neither looked away.
Heat rushed into Esha’s limbs and she broke their gaze.
“We’re almost there, but let’s stop for water. I’m parched.”
The words jolted Kunal out of his thoughts and he threw Esha a quick nod. She dismounted gracefully and he followed suit, taking his mare’s reins in hand as they moved off the path and into the rocky terrain as they neared the bottom of the Ghanta Mountains.
Kunal heard a sharp intake of breath and looked over at Esha. Her round eyes were wide and he caught where her gaze went.
The ocean was laid out to the west, a brilliant blue that sparkled and took his breath away. The press of thoughts and decisions and burdens faded away for a few moments. He stopped worrying about the life he left behind or Esha and stared out in the vastness of the ocean.
“Every time,” he whispered. Esha tilted her head toward him.
He repeated his words. “Every time. Every time I see the ocean, I have the same feeling. My heart squeezes at the beauty and its absolute enormity. And I think again how I will never be able to paint its majesty or capture its every facet because I’ll never be worthy of it.”
Kunal fought the tightness in his chest.
Esha looked at him with those inscrutable eyes. “Why do you need to be worthy to capture the ocean’s beauty?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
Kunal struggled, unable to find the words. “Something so raw and untamed? Pure? Hundreds will dedicate their lives to art, to capturing the beauty and passion in the land around us.” His mouth hardened and he felt the words spill from his lips before he could stop them, a soft whisper. “I will never be worthy.”
She shook her head at him, her lips pursed. “That’s stupid.” Kunal felt the hairs on his neck bristle. He scrunched his forehead together, hot words on his tongue. “It’s not about being worthy. It’s about respect. Do you respect this land? Your people? Then you are entitled to it the same as everyone else. We’re not born perfect and we don’t die that way.”
The words on his tongue melted away as Kunal considered her.
In a few words, they had both exposed themselves to each other in a way more intimate than any brush of lips.
Once again, he had no answer, which he covered with a question.
“This person, do we know why they framed you? What they want?” Esha had filled him in before they left with the basics of what she had discovered, about being framed and the scroll that detailed a search of some sort. But she kept it short, as if not wanting him to know too much. As if she didn’t trust him.
“As my father used to say, the simplest answer is often the correct one. They didn’t want any of us to know about what the Fort was searching for and framing me was an easy way to distract us.”
Esha sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, which he had noticed she did when tired.
“And the cease-fire, you think Vardaan has been using it as a cover for this thing?”
He remembered thinking it was odd that the Fort hadn’t announced the general’s death. Kunal couldn’t help but feel like he’d be more useful if Esha told him what this thing was that everyone was searching for.
Esha nodded. “A source told us he’s consolidating troops from the borders.”
“He wouldn’t do that lightly. You’re right, something is definitely up,” Kunal agreed.
Esha slowed her horse, tossing him a half smile, but offered nothing else.
Kunal wanted to ask her more, about why she had inquired about the smitheries and that night. It was clear to him that she was holding back, but who was he to say she was wrong?
He didn’t even know his own heart.
Esha had hoped their last moments together could be lighthearted, hearkening back to their time as kids. Instead, Kunal was getting deeper into the labyrinth of being a rebel, where alliances were constantly shifting and you didn’t always know who to trust.
It tempted her, the idea of what he could do in the rebels, how he could help them. But she wouldn’t be his captor, no matter his title or abilities. If he had a chance of a life away from all of this, he should take it. She would give it to him.