Aru Shah and the End of Time (Pandava Quartet #1)(73)

“Did you?”

Mini frowned and was opening her mouth to say something when new ground loomed up ahead. The floor beneath them changed from rigid stone to something wet and slick, surrounding…

Pools of water.

Some were the size of rain puddles. Others were the size of ponds. There were at least fifty of them, spread out in concentric circles.

Large incense burners floated silently above each one. The walls hadn’t changed, though, so the shining water looked like a bunch of pearls hidden in an oyster. Beyond the Chamber of Pools, Aru spotted the dim light of an exit. She didn’t hear any voices. It didn’t seem like anyone else was around.

This place smelled weird. It smelled like…longing. Like an ice cream cone you were really excited about eating, but after one lick, it fell onto the sidewalk.

Unlike in the forest or the Otherworld Costco—or even the whale shark—there weren’t any signs here. Nothing indicated which pool was for what. Or who. Aru rubbed her neck, grimacing. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Mini carefully stepped between two of the pools. “Go slow,” she said. “It’s slippery. What would happen if we fell in?”

Aru shrugged. “Maybe we’d get instantly reincarnated?”

“What if we came back as animals?”

“Then I get dibs on being a horse.”

“Enjoy that.”

“I like horses….”

“I’d want to come back as a cow,” said Mini loftily. “Then I’d be worshipped.”

“Yeah, if you lived in India…Otherwise you’d just be a hamburger.”

The smile dropped off Mini’s face. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Aru was just about to say Mooooooo when her foot slipped.

Water skidded beneath her heel. Her arms pinwheeled. Seconds later, she was flat on the ground, her nose an inch away from a face in the water.

Not hers.

Her mother’s.





The Pool of the Past


Secrets are curious things. They are flimsy and easily broken. For this reason, they prefer to remain hidden.

A fact, on the other hand, is strong and powerful. It’s proven. Unlike a secret, it’s out there for everyone to see and know. And that can make it more terrifying than even the deepest, darkest secret.

In the pool, Aru saw a secret break and become a fact.

Secret: The Sleeper did know her mother.

Fact: He didn’t just know her.

For instance, Aru “knew” their mail carrier. He always acted like he understood her, just because he had changed his name to Krishna Blue at the age of seventeen. He was always listening to slightly eerie Indian music in his earbuds, and he was constantly telling her that her “aura wasn’t vibrant enough” and she should drink more tea. She also “knew” P. Doggy, the poodle she walked during the summer. He liked to steal her sneakers and bury peanut butter sandwiches. But that wasn’t the way the Sleeper knew her mom.

When Aru looked into the pool, she saw a memory of her mother—a much younger version—walking hand in hand with the Sleeper. They were strolling along the banks of a river, laughing. And occasionally stopping to…kiss.

The Sleeper hadn’t just known her mother…he’d loved her. And she had loved him. In the memory, her mom was actually laughing and smiling, way more than she ever had with Aru. She tried not to be offended, but it was hard not to be. Who was this version of her mom? Aru leaned hungrily into the water, the tip of her nose almost grazing the surface.

The images changed…revealing her mom standing at the doorstop of a house Aru had never seen. There was her mother, Dr. Krithika Shah, thrumming her stomach. Aru was used to seeing her dressed like a shabby professor, in a blazer with scuffed elbows and a worn skirt with the hem coming undone. In this vision, she was wearing a black velvet salwar kameez. Her hair was done up in fanciful curls, and she wore a brilliant tiara.

The door opened, and an older man looked shocked at the sight of her.

“Krithika,” he breathed. “You’re early for the Diwali celebrations, my child. The other sisters are inside waiting for you.” When she didn’t step inside, his eyes went to her midsection. “Has it…has it happened?”

“Yes,” she said. Her voice sounded cold and wooden.

It took Aru an extra moment to guess what was in her mother’s womb.

Her.

“He’s not who you said he was,” she said, through tears. “And I can’t let this happen. You know as well as I do that the moment the child comes of age, Suyodhana is destined to become…to become…”

“The Sleeper,” finished the old man. “I know, daughter.”

“There has to be some other way! He is aware of his own prophecy and believes he won’t lose himself to it. She could have a father. We could be a family.” Her voice broke on the last word. “He can change his fate. I know it.”

“No one can change their fate.”

“Then what would you have me do, Father?”

Aru gasped. That was her grandfather. According to her mother, he had died when Aru was too young to remember him.

He shrugged. “You must choose. Your child, or your lover.”

“I can’t do that.”