Every which way they turn new trials will test their wit and strength.
But what Gauri and Vikram soon discover is that theres nothing more dangerous than what they most desire.
The bruise on my cheek burned.
I had to fake a flinch when the punch connected.
Violence made the guards feel safe, and I needed them to fall for that lull and lie.
One moment of inattention was all I needed.
One moment, and Id catch their pulse with the tip of a blade.
On my sisters life, I swore it.
At the end of the hall, steam curled through the gaps in the door.
Almond oil clung to the air.
I stalled, my heart racing as I inhaled cautiously.
The scent lacked a bitter tang.Not poisonous.
I exhaled, my chest unclenching.
Hed agreed and sold out his small battalion.
His twin brother had belonged to that unit.
In private, I had mourned them.
Not the loss of life, but the loss of love.
A siblings bond was made of sinew and starlight.
If you severed that soul bond, you severed yourself.
Months after I wept for the brothers, I would weep for myself.
For thinking the love I knew would not betray me.
It was not a sibling bond.
But it was treasured.
I thought it was enough.
We reached the end of the hall.
Without thinking I placed a hand on the door.
A guard quickly brought down his spear, angling his weapon at my wrist.
Do you intend to watch me bathe?
But we will be outside to safeguard the livelihood of your attendant.
The water must be very hot.
Now Im feeling insulted that you dont want to watch me.
Move, ordered the guard.
He held initiate the door, not meeting my gaze.
Any sign of distress from the attendant and we will be there.
I blew them a kiss, grinned when one recoiled, and walked inside.
The bath itself was fine.
Gauzy columns of fragrance spun slowly in to the air, filling my lungs with an attar of roses.
For a moment, thoughts of home choked me.
But that home was gone.
Skanda, my brother, would have made sure by now that no hearth in Bharata would welcome me.
The Ujijain attendant didnt speak, but she kept her eyes fixed on me.
She scrubbed my skin as if shed find gold beneath it, and I winced.
Do you enjoy scrubbing prisoners?
I sighed, whispering, You may be the last person I see before death.
Would it hurt to speak?
When she finished, she held out a clean piece of linen.
I want my clothes back.
Why did my clothes matter when my audience with the prince was nothing more than a formality before execution?
Six full moons had passed and not once had they interrogated me.
Ignoring me meant that I had no information worth offering.
It meant that they had already decided what would become of me.
I refuse to wear that.
You have no choice.
Is this a rule only for female prisoners?
I do not know, Princess, she said.
You are the first female prisoner.
Of course, I said.
You call the others concubines.
My hair hung in wet ropes against my back as I slid into the linen sheath.
Silently, the attendant led me to an adjoining chamber where the silver walls formed gigantic polished mirrors.
Brushes of reeds and hewn ivory shaped like writing implements caught the light.
Homesickness knifed through me.
I had to clasp my hands together to stop from reaching out over the familiar cosmetics.
The harem mothers had taught me how to use these .
how to accentuate the wide shape of my eyes and dress them in kohl-dark shadows.
How to make my lips look bitten and luscious without appearing painted.
I was pretty, but not beautiful.
But under my mothers tutelage, I learned that beauty could be conjured.
The attendant yanked my chin.
She took a toolthe wrong one, I noticedand scraped the red pigment onto my lips.
Allow me I started, but she shut me up.
I closed my eyes, trying not to flinch under the attendants ministrations.
I tried to picture myself anywhere but here, and memory mercifully plucked me from my own thoughts.
I was ten again, sobbing because my sister had left Bharata.
No matter how we feel broken, it is only the paint that aches.
We can always wash it away.
A soft brush swept across my cheek, scattering a fine dust of pulverized pearls across my skin.
The scent of the powder fell over me like a worn and familiar cloak.
In Bharata, my mothers used to scatter dried jasmine in the silk purses of powder.
I inhaled deeply, and I was sixteen again, preparing for the palaces monsoon celebration.
Arjun had said that it was the first time hed seen me out of the garb of a soldier.
He said hed forgotten all about the moon.
A year later, Arjun would say he loved me.
And I would say the words back, even though they sat unripe and heavy upon my tongue.
I believed him as recently as six months ago, when I tried to take the throne.
It was supposed to be a bloodless transfer of power.
They were the only things I could see in the dark.
I remembered emerging into the throne room.
But I remembered the bodies on the ground, the lightning breaking the night sky like an egg.
I remembered Arjuns face beside Skanda: calm.
Done, said the attendant, holding a mirror to my face.
My eyes fluttered open.
I grimaced at my reflection.
The red pigment had crossed the boundaries of my lips, making them look thick and bloodstained.
The kohl had been unevenly smudged, leaving me startled and bruised.
It suits you, Princess, said the attendant in a mockingly pandering voice.
Now smile and show me the famous dimpled smile of the Jewel of Bharata.
Few knew that my famous dimpled smile was a scar.
Even your scars are lovely,said Mother Dhina.
The attendants eyes traveled from my face to the sapphire necklace at the hollow of my throat.
Instinctively, I clutched it.
Give it, she demanded, holding out her palm.
Her smile was full of daggers.
The Rajkumara will not allow you to meet with him wearing anything other than what he has personally bestowed.
I stretched out the seed pearls and dangled the sapphire pendant.
Theres no need for me to part with it.
Theres no dagger, poison or anything.
You are full of wiles, Princess, but so is the prince.
We do not call him the Fox Prince for nothing, she crooned.
The Rajkumara will not care for your reasons.
I will not give it to you.
Unsurprising, said the attendant.
Jewels are more precious to you than the lives you took.
I knew I was being childish.
I had parted with cherished tokens, but Mayas necklace was more than a token.
It was a reminder of magic woven between the ordinary.
Of stories shared beneath crescent moons.
The day Maya returned to Bharata, I hadnt recognized her.
My sister had changed somehow.
Like she had torn off the filmy reality of one world and glimpsed something greater beneath it.
And then she had disappeared, darting between the space of a moonbeam and a shadow.
I didnt just want to believe in everything the necklace meant.
I needed those reminders.
And I would die before I parted with it.
She grabbed at the necklace.
Even though her arms were thin, her fingers were powerful.
They closed around the necklace, scrabbling at the clasp.
Me, she hissed.
She aimed a bony elbow at my neck, but I blocked the jab.
I will not fight with you.
I do not want to hurt you.
Stop it or those guards will come in and beat us both.
Theyd sooner hurt you than me.
You are no one here, said the attendant.
Her eyes were bright, as if touched with fever.
Give me the necklace.
What does it matter to you?
After all you took?
Isnt that the least I can take away from you, one damned necklace?
Her words gutted me.
I took no pleasure in killing, but I had never hesitated to choose my life over anothers.
I had broken something more precious than life; I had cut apart hopes.
My apologies, I said hoarsely, knocking her hand away from my neck.
This time she lurched back, shock and fury lighting up her face.
Maybe the girl had lost her lover, or her betrothed, or her father or brother.
I couldnt let myself care.
Caring had cost my future.
Believing in the best of someone had robbed my throne and damned all I had held dear.
The attendant lunged forward, and I reacted.
Hooking my foot behind her calf, I tugged.
She fell back with a hurt yelp, knocking over a slim golden table.
A cloud of perfume burst in the air.
In that moment, the world tasted like sugar and roses and blood.
I stepped back, my chest heaving.
I waited for her to stand and fight, but she didnt.
She sat there with her legs crossed beneath her, arms wrapped around her thin ribcage.
You took my brother.
He was not yours to take.
He was mine, said the girl, her voice sounded muddled.Young.
Tears streaked her cheeks.
And you tried to take what was mine, I said.
I secured the necklace.
We all have to be something.
Copyright2017 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martins Griffin.
