Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
E ventually we unentangle.
I am suddenly aware of everything, the thunder rolling across the sky, the lightning in the far distance, the hymns radiating across the hermitage, and the disturbance in the air from the wards. I try to extract myself from him, but my movements are too clumsy in the satisfied luxury of my orgasm and the growing nervousness with the man who gave it to me.
Kaushika helps me stand. I step away, embarrassed, but he moves forward, closing the distance between us, tying the drawstrings of my trousers together, settling my kurta, straightening the collar. His fingers tingle on my collarbones. He combs my hair out with his hand, feeling the lush weight of it, before he coils the dark mass up into an expert topknot.
Cautiously, I glance at him, searching for signs of shame on his face. But he simply adjusts his own clothes swiftly and offers me his hand. The same smile from before plays on his face, this time flooded with warmth and satisfaction, and sudden contentment blossoms in my heart. I cannot help but embrace its comfort; the feeling is so unusual. I know I must question this, the act of what we have done, of what I have, but for now, it is enough that Kaushika strides next to me more in control of himself than I am of myself. It is enough that he is leading us, and we indulged ourselves in a moment that has plagued both our fantasies for so long.
We walk through the hermitage silently. The hour is late, and I expect most disciples to have retired to their huts, but although lamps flicker at many windows, several yogis still linger within the courtyard and the pavilion, their magic sharp and sparking ready at their fingertips. Several march toward the forest, and I remember Kaushika mentioning patrols. Others are chanting softly, and magic warps the air as wards are strengthened. Durvishi sees me and Kaushika, her eyes traveling to our clasped hands. She giggles and nudges Jaahnav, who utters a loud laugh, which makes Anirudh and Romasha turn.
Anirudh’s jaw drops open. I feel my cheeks burn. I told him about a lover I left behind to come to the hermitage. What must he think of me now? Will he tell Kaushika what I said then? As for the lover I mentioned—Rambha herself told me to do this. Her instruction is not why I indulged—no, the moment of intimacy that Kaushika and I shared was pure. But I know I will have to reckon with my tangled love for her regardless.
My gaze travels to Romasha, who stands next to Anirudh. Her eyes are wide, reflecting the moonlight, and even from this distance I see the tears sparkling in them. A look of sorrow and betrayal crosses her face before she stills herself. She abruptly turns away, and the pleasure from my climax recedes in reaction. I have seen that look before. It lingers on the faces of my marks’ lovers when I am deep in my seduction. I once suspected Kaushika of being infatuated with Romasha, but the truth is that she cares for him despite her own path of asceticism. Perhaps one day he would have learned to reciprocate her feelings. Have I taken that possibility away from the two of them unintentionally?
I lower my eyes. This one quenching of my lust has already hurt people.
“Perhaps we should be more discreet,” I murmur, edging my hand away from Kaushika.
His grip tightens, his fingers interlacing with mine. He glances at me, curious. “Do you regret it?”
I shake my head. I don’t know enough yet to distill my feelings.
“I don’t say it for me,” I evade, “but for you. You lead this hermitage. You have taught them about asceticism.”
“I don’t indulge in senseless shame, Meneka. If they have a problem, they will speak with me. Besides, my choices reflect my own understanding of asceticism better, something you yourself have taught all of us.” His glance falls over the assembled disciples, some of whom are still smiling, and he sighs. “Let them question me if they will. I will answer in honesty. I have nothing to hide.”
“Not even from the sages at the Mahasabha? What if they should find out, bound by tradition as they are?”
Kaushika’s shoulders move in dismissal. “Some of them are married. Not all of them have claimed the path of asceticism I have, and even if they did, what I do with my body is not their affair. They understand the path of Shiva, of duality and love and surrender more than I do.”
I let my other objections subside. If he does not care about what the sages or the yogis think, why should I? I was sent here from heaven to do precisely this—weaken Kaushika and make him more pliable to me. I am close to my freedom, already making my lord proud; even if I had not meant for this happen for the mission, I am giving Indra what he wants without truly trying. I should take joy in that. Yet all I feel is heartbreak.
Kaushika stops at the entrance of the shed where my quarters are. Kalyani’s absence is conspicuous in the darkness within the shed. I can almost see the both of us chatting into the night as she attempts to teach me to connect with my prana, as we speak of her own magic and how she can use love for it. Even in those conversations, my mission had been at the forefront of my mind, but now? I see myself entering this very shed on the first night, trailing Kaushika, wondering about the shape of his seduction. I feel older, and it is the taste of his lips that linger on mine instead of Rambha’s.
My hand grips his in panic, indecision whirling in me about how to proceed. So much has changed, and yet nothing at all. My allegiances, my very identity, flutter within me as if caught in a fisherman’s net. Kaushika looks at me quizzically, and I school my features and utter a half laugh. I release his hand.
“After all that, and I must still stay alone in this little room,” I say lightly, trying to distract the both of us.
A smile lifts his lips. “I would offer you my own bed, but even I cannot use it.”
“Are you sure that’s the reason?” I tease. “Maybe you are afraid of me.”
Kaushika laughs. “I am afraid of you, but not for the reasons you think. Undoubtedly, there are other more pleasurable things we can both do besides sleep, but I would suggest we get some rest. Bright and early for the Mahasabha, Meneka, I expect you to be on time.”
“You are so insistent on taking me. What if I fluster you?”
“You will fluster me even if I do not bring you. This way, I will have you in sight, right next to me. When we travel as a group, you will be but another obedient disciple.”
The word makes me arch an eyebrow. “Obedience,” I murmur, walking my fingers up his chest. “You enjoy giving commands. The thing is, Sage Kaushika, so do I.”
A surprised breath huffs out of him, and his eyes darken. “I would let you command me,” he whispers, leaning close. “I would let you teach me, rule me, ruin me. I would let you vanquish me, if that is what you wanted, Meneka. If you asked.”
My knees tremble. My teasing falters with his response. I shut my eyes and squeeze my legs together, my core aching in the memory of my pleasure. Kaushika smiles and gives me a light bow before turning away. I watch him leave, still shaking.
Camphor and rosewood light my dreams that night.
I TOSS AND TURN, RELIVING HIS WORDS . T HE TASTE OF HIM ON my lips, heat and power and hunger. The way my body reacted, so instinctively and naturally. I cannot lie still, and my hand moves to rest on my legs, fingers dancing, delicate, delicate. I snatch them back, and my cheeks warm, as I see Kaushika in my mind. The curve of his neck. His pulse under his skin. Jeweled beads of sweat on his dark chest.
In my dreams, Indra laughs behind us, as though I am succeeding at the task he set me, yet failing a greater, more important one. I run through the golden passageways of Amaravati’s heavenly palace, searching for answers, seeking to understand. I open doors to chambers, and behind each I find Kaushika, his smile merged with Tara’s longing, with Nirjar’s passion, with Ranjani’s innocence. Guilt and desire weave into each other, burning fingers through my body.
It is a relief when dawn streams in through my window. Outside, the storm has passed, and a pink sky blushes through gray clouds. I awaken to bathe and dress, and find a small package outside my door. Kaushika’s comb carefully wrapped within a kerchief, a sign as though to wash away the taste of my nightmares. I smile foolishly, my heart swelling.
I meet the others at the stables, arriving at the same time as Eka. Romasha and Parasara are already on their horses, and Anirudh hustles a protesting Eka onto the mare Kalyani rode to Thumri. I leap upon my own, too tired to speak, and Kaushika doesn’t say a word either, but I can tell that he has had a difficult night too. His mouth is brooding, and a line creases his forehead. When he sees me watching, he smiles and winks at me as though to reassure me that it has nothing to do with me.
I am not reassured. Kaushika has chosen us to accompany him, not because we are the strongest right now—depleted in our tapasya as we all are—but because he intends to speak about Indra’s cavalier attitude toward the mortal realm, and we are his witnesses from Thumri. He expects us to corroborate his words should the need arise; he even told me he expects me to be obedient. What will I say if the other sages ask me questions? Was his action last night to make me more docile? If so, he will be disappointed. I am no longer trying to bend the rules of my devotion to Indra for a greater plan. These are rishis . Each of them is a threat to Indra already through their sheer power. Each of them—though mortal—is so accomplished in their magic that they have already lived hundreds of years.
We ride in the same formation we rode to Thumri. This time our pace is a slow trot. Kaushika and Romasha take the lead, but Anirudh is next to me, with Eka on his other side.
“What is to happen at the Mahasabha?” I ask. “All I know is that we are to be presented.”
Anirudh makes a balancing motion with a hand. “There is not much else to tell. It is impossible to know how many rishis will arrive. It could be only one, or it could be fifty. The numbers do not matter. Whoever arrives, they represent the others. It is to our benefit if there is more than one sage, though. With a single one, we will know the others have made up their minds fully. The more there are, the more room there is to argue and convince them.”
Convince them of Indra’s villainy , I think, but I do not utter the words.
I give Anirudh a sidelong glance. “Last night … you saw me with Kaushika …”
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“I … I don’t want you to think,” I stammer. “I—I mean, what is between us—”
“Is none of my business,” Anirudh completes softly. He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Kaushika makes his own decisions. He is allowed to. As are you.”
“But will it affect the Mahasabha?” I whisper. “Could the other sages act against him? He seems not to care, but what if I have ruined everything for him?”
At that, Anirudh frowns. We ride alongside each other in silence for a time. I myself cannot tell how I want him to react. I cannot bring myself to agree with Kaushika that a confrontation with Lord Indra is the best move. But the halahala … everything in Thumri … Indra is not innocent either, and my own place in these events is too muddied to distill.
In the east, the pink flush of dawn gives way to a clear day. When Anirudh finally speaks, his voice is thoughtful. “The sages have no cause to question your relationship,” he says. “But they have known how devoted Kaushika has been before to the ascetic path. None of us here will tell them of it, if that is what worries you.”
“Not even Romasha?” I can’t help but ask. I see her ahead of us, the cold lines of her shoulders, the stiff manner in which she speaks to Kaushika. I think of the tears in her eyes and the sorrowful look on her face. Jilted lovers have done much worse than harm the ones they love.
But Anirudh shakes his head. “Romasha reveres Kaushika. She would never do anything to jeopardize his agenda. We won’t speak a word, Meneka, as it is not our business—but it does not mean that Kaushika himself will not tell them. He is an honest man. If he thinks they should know, he will not lie.”
“He would be a fool to say anything,” I murmur, but I cannot keep the fondness out of my voice even though nervousness grips me.
Anirudh utters a short laugh. “Oh, my friend, give him some credit. He is a sage . Their questions will be to judge him, and whether he is truly fit for the status he has been granted. If they suspect your relationship, they will only want to understand how you both define it. He should have prepared you for it, but perhaps he was trying to protect you from worrying overmuch.”
Anxiety pools in my stomach. Kaushika was trying to protect me, but how can he protect me from myself? I asked Kaushika for discretion about what we have done, but it was not just to guard his reputation, it was to shield my true identity too.
I am here pretending to be someone I am not, riding toward more danger than I have ever been in, but the extent of Kaushika’s powers is unknown to me, and the sages we are to meet are more accomplished in magics than I can know. Kaushika could not tell the difference between my immortal tether to Amaravati and my mortal tapasvin prana, but these others might not be limited in their vision. What will he do if one of the sages tells him who I am? What will the sages themselves do? My heart beats in tandem with the movement of the horses. I cannot help but feel I am riding toward my own execution.
A little ahead of us, Eka’s horse snorts and she utters a panicked squeak. Anirudh turns to her, instructing her how to ride properly. I remain silent the rest of the way. The path we take is the same as the one I took when I met Rambha, and it serves only to remind me of heaven. The way matters are occurring, I expect Kaushika to turn for the very same clifftop I met Rambha at, but fortunately he leads us deeper into the woods, our horses slowing to a walk until we reach a clearing.
A small tent stands amidst the trees. Magic undulates around the cloth, overpowering, moving in waves, confusing my senses. I blink several times to clear my vision, but I can see its tangles as though the tent itself is constructed of white light, shimmering and pure, and the cloth is an illusion.
Kaushika directs us to tie our horses to one of the trees, and we follow him as he leads us into the tent. I am surprised to see no more than three men waiting inside, seated on unadorned rugs. Do these men all have a common opinion? Have the rest of the absent rishis decided about Kaushika already?
I recognize the sages from the discussions of the others in the hermitage. Vashishta is the one with hair as pale as the moon tied into a topknot, a tuft escaping it. His beard reaches all the way down to his chest, and the vibhuti on his forehead is white against his dark skin. Deep in conversation with him is another man, younger by some appearances but no less austere. Sage Agastya is shorter and stockier, his quiet voice gentle. He is the same guru I overheard at the lake by the hermitage, warning Kaushika of this very meeting. His aura shines behind his eyes, contained and relaxed. I expect Kaushika to greet him first, but his attention is taken up by the very last man, Sage Gautama, who is tall and skinny, his bare chest covered with seed necklaces.
Kaushika utters a joyful bark of a laugh and leaps forward to enclose Gautama in a hug. Then, as though remembering himself, he bows low, prostrating himself in front of all of them as they stand. Each of the men bends to pull him up, Agastya patting Kaushika’s shoulder and smiling, though I notice Vashishta’s frigidity, as though he is being forced to welcome Kaushika.
I take a deep breath to steady myself. The charge I’d felt in the air is tenfold within the tent. Over time, I have become used to Kaushika’s magic, but seen here now, in this confluence of auras, a swirl of colors and scents batters me, visible to me and me alone. The strength of all the sages’ chakras and the half-moon radiance behind their heads are akin to the auras of the devas. It makes me breathless and lightheaded, and I sway a little. Anirudh wraps an arm around my shoulder, watching me in concern.
We are all of us still standing at the threshold, watching the sages from a distance, and I feel unable to keep my balance, too overwhelmed by the magic here. My knees begin to shake as fear darts through me. What am I doing here? I should have told Kaushika I could not come. Made some sort of excuse. I should have told Kaushika myself that I am an apsara. Controlled the conversation in a moment when he was most pliable. Any one of these sages could reveal me, of course, but some stories say that Vashishta was born of an apsara. I have heard in the hermitage how he holds no true love for Kaushika, their difference of opinion often coming to an alarming battle of magics. He will undo the both of us instantly. This is it. The end I have been fearing.
Anirudh squeezes my shoulder. I say nothing, panic making me too nauseous. None of the other yogis look at us, having not noticed my discomfiture.
“Good,” Romasha says, her eyes shining as she watches the sages. “This is good.”
I glance at her, searching for any signs of deception, but she seems intent on the Mahasabha, her moment of sorrow on seeing Kaushika and me together clearly forgotten. What is going on in her mind?
“What do you mean?” Eka asks, but she glances at Anirudh. “I thought you said the more sages the better, but there are only three rishis who have come.”
His hand still supports me, but Anirudh nods. “The others must be intent on their meditation. Had they all come, disturbing their tapasya, this would have been a more serious matter. As it is, we could not have picked a better contingent if we wished it.”
“These sages never show a united front together,” Romasha explains in a low, excited voice. “All of them feel differently about Indra, and that is our true purpose here—to unite them in their thinking. The deva king tried to seduce Gautama’s own wife, hundreds of years ago. The guru hates Indra, perhaps more than Kaushika himself. Sage Agastya believes in reconciliation and the peaceful approach. Time and again, he has prayed to Indra, seeking refuge from droughts or inclement weather. He will not be swayed easily, but he will listen to reason. Vashishta alone holds neither love nor hate for the deva lord. He is as likely to support Indra as to thwart Kaushika, but to see one sage of each predilection here is an opportunity, and—”
“So these are your disciples?” Agastya says, and Romasha abruptly quietens.
“Yes,” Kaushika replies. “Only a few of many, the ones I believe are most worthy. They will become sages one day, once I am done training them.” He steps aside, and the rest of us fall to our knees, prostrating ourselves, foreheads to the floor.
“Oh, get up, get up,” one of the sages says impatiently. “Approach us, all of you.”
Nervously, my friends and I rise. Agastya gestures to Eka and Parasara, who can barely meet his eyes. Gautama waves a hand to Anirudh and Romasha, smiling. It is Vashishta himself who beckons to me with an imperious crook of his finger.
I can feel Kaushika’s gaze burning into me as I approach the rishi, but I dare not look at him. I try to remember what I know of Vashishta. During Kaushika’s ascension to sage, it was he who put him through the most arduous trials. He is Kaushika’s greatest rival, yet his poetry and wisdom are debated in Kaushika’s hermitage, hymns he wrote praising Indra even as he censured the lord. Does he believe in Indra the essence more than Indra the lord too? My body trembles so hard, knowing I am perhaps moments from being exposed, that I stumble as I approach, nearly falling to the floor and back on my knees again.
“Guruji,” I murmur, pressing my palms together and dropping my gaze. My shoulders shake in terror.
“Daughter,” he intones quietly. He straightens me and tips my chin up. His eyes crinkle in silent mirth, like he can see deep inside me and is amused by what he sees. “Oh,” he says quietly. “You are unique, aren’t you? He has certainly picked a worthy disciple, you who are discovering secrets of magic even without any true training. Would that I could take you to my own hermitage to train you, but that is not your purpose here, is it?”
I cannot hold his gaze. My mind buzzes, unable to understand whether his words are a compliment or a taunt. Can he see the violence of my heart? Does he know ? I shirk back, laid bare, wondering what his agenda is and what he is about to do, but Vashishta does not elaborate.
He turns from me and raises his voice. “Very well, then. Let us be about it. Rishi Kaushika,” he says, and there is amusement in his voice again, the iron edge of it sharp and bitter, “tell us your grievance.”
“It is not a grievance,” Kaushika answers quietly. “It is a duty.”
He gestures to the rest of us from the hermitage, and we retreat. The other sages sit down as well, and Kaushika takes a seat in front of them. Anirudh, Romasha, Parasara, Eka, and I are all but forgotten. A look I have never seen before enters Kaushika’s face: part yearning, part hope, part anger. His breathing slows even as I watch his aura become stronger. I understand enough of mortal magic to know what he is doing—silently filling himself with as much of his power as possible, radiating his influence out in waves. The other sages blink. Even Vashishta cocks his head, stroking his beard and listening. The silence is so strong that I can hear the quiet hum of magic emanating from the gathering, like an undercurrent of electricity.
“I will not waste your time, great sages,” Kaushika says quietly. “I have already written to you informing you of everything I have found. For years, the three realms have suffered Indra’s tyranny. How long ago was it that you yourself cursed him, Rishi Gautama, for what he attempted with your own wife? Nary a few hundred years have passed. You thought to teach the storm lord a lesson, yet even though you stripped him of his manhood, he simply found a way to regrow it.”
Gautama nods slowly, fingering one of his bead necklaces. His lined face draws into a frown, and I think with mingled horror and wonder, One. One of the rishis at least is persuaded by Kaushika’s words.
Kaushika’s gaze moves to the next. “And you, Sage Agastya,” he says. “When the battle between Indra and the Maruts occurred, you had to break from your own meditation to negotiate peace. Yet the lord of heaven did not listen until you prayed to Shiva to intervene, knowing Indra would destroy the world in his arrogance. Do you truly think he is worthy?”
Agastya’s forehead crinkles. It is clear that Kaushika has made this argument to him before, and that is perhaps why the rishi has been so closely allied with Kaushika all along. Two , I think. My breathing grows shallow. If Kaushika convinces them all that Indra needs to be punished, it could mean war unlike any the realms have seen in recent times.
“As for you, Sage Vashishta”—Kaushika transfers his gaze to the bearded man, who watches him, eyes cold—“did you not once tell me that my own path to enlightenment was corrupted? Yet where would we be if it weren’t for the meadow I created?”
A silence breathes with his words.
Agastya and Gautama turn to look at Vashishta. His face is unreadable. For a long moment, he studies Kaushika, then in a glance so swift that I wonder if I am imagining it, his eyes flicker to me. I inhale sharply.
“The meadow, yes,” Vashishta says, inscrutable. “You wrote to us saying that is where you sent the halahala. Then the poison truly was sent to your hermitage?” His question takes in our entire group this time. One by one, we nod.
Agastya and Gautama exchange glances. Vashishta nods and steeples his hands, then places them on his lap. He closes his eyes. I wonder what he is seeing behind his lids. Kaushika can certainly do things with a snap of his fingers. Perhaps the rishi is performing magic even now, unbeknownst to us.
Sage Gautama clears his throat. “If what you say is true,” he says, “then Indra has gotten out of hand. It seems like in every age he must be taught a lesson somehow.”
Kaushika smiles in satisfaction. He opens his mouth to speak, but Vashishta holds up a hand. “Not so fast,” the sage says, eyes still closed. “I would hear from his students. They may agree with Sage Kaushika’s summation, but do they know all of his reasons?”
His eyes open and rove over us. The other sages look curiously toward us too, and Kaushika watches, unspeaking.
“We have seen Indra’s corruption, guruji,” Romasha says, bowing. “A yogi who would be here today would tell you herself were she not ill because of Indra’s halahala poisoning.”
The others murmur their agreement, and I drop my gaze, nodding, but it is not enough.
“You, daughter.” Vashishta’s voice rings out. “Do you feel the same? I sense turmoil in your heart.”
I lift my eyes, but it is not Vashishta I see. It is Kaushika. Younger perhaps by centuries when compared to all these men, he nevertheless sits tall, his eyes unfathomable. He does not move, not even a breath, and I think of what he wants me to say. I think of Rambha and her instruction, of the reason I was brought here to this man, of what I have been sent to do. I should defend Indra, but I feel paralyzed by indecision.
I only wanted for you to be true to yourself , Kaushika said to me once, and I choke because of how simple that edict is, how hard the demand. He watches me, as do the sages, and I try to clear my troubled mind, my breath coming out painfully shallow.
I do not want to seduce Kaushika. Not in the way I have been sent to do. But I do not want war, either, or the destruction of my home, the death of my sisters, and the desecration of my kin. I do not want to betray Lord Indra, he who has been my anchor for all my life. Despite everything I have heard, everything I have seen, how can I wish harm on the lord when his glory and splendor have surrounded me all my life? In my mind’s eye, I see Amaravati’s radiance, the delight and joy that suffuse it because of Indra . Kaushika can dismiss the stories of the lord’s heroism as actions of the past, but I have seen Indra’s kindness too, in the way he attends to the celestials’ needs, in healing injured gandharvas and nurturing the golden horses in the stables, in tilling Amaravati’s lands each year with his own hands to renew the flow of amrit. I know what Kaushika wants me to say. Can I say those words, even to escape his wrath?
Vashishta’s forehead crinkles at my silence. “Tell me, daughter,” the sage asks again. “Do you believe Indra should be taught a lesson?”
I am shaking like a leaf. My eyes lower in anguish, tears filling my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “I think the lord should be understood.”
It is one honest sentence.
It damns everything.
The mortals from the hermitage whip around to face me, their mouths falling open. Accusation bleeds from their eyes, that I should say this now when Kalyani lies in a coma, that I should betray Kaushika when I have been so intimate with him. Romasha looks furious, rage and suspicion contorting her features. Anirudh’s widened gaze darts between me and Kaushika, horrified and confused. But Kaushika himself remains unmoving. His eyes do not flicker from me.
Vashishta smiles. “Interesting strategy, Sage Kaushika. To bring a disciple here who does not agree with what you are attempting. But perhaps you bring her here to show that you do indeed have some wisdom. To not simply surround yourself with lackeys but with those who would oppose you, too, and bring you to heel.”
“I bring her here because she deserves to be here,” Kaushika says evenly. “But you are not wrong, rishi. She does challenge me, more than any other. I bring her here to show you that I have heard the arguments for Indra. I even respect them to a degree. Yet my mind is made up, and especially after the halahala, I am hopeful your own wisdom shows you the necessity of my actions.”
His words are reassuring, but the indifferent tone in which he utters them raises my panic. I cannot read him, but I know that if he begins to hate me, something within me will wither and die.
Vashishta stands up. “The necessity of your actions?” he repeats coldly. He faces Kaushika, and suddenly it is as though there is no one else in the tent but these two men. “The halahala is concerning, and the rest of the sages and I shall plead with Shiva to take it away, since you yourself have failed to do so.” Kaushika flinches at that, but Vashishta fixes Kaushika with his gleaming eyes. “Your meadow , however, is an abomination.”
Kaushika jumps to his feet, and the other sages rise slowly, wariness in their movements.
“How can you say that?” Kaushika challenges. “After what I have told you. After the attack on my own hermitage.”
“Precisely,” Vashishta says. “Your hermitage. Your past. Your vow .” The last words are a whip, and Kaushika recoils.
“My vow has little to do with this.”
“Then you have told them about what you intend with the meadow?” Vashishta sneers. “You have told them what they are part of, what they are building karma for instead of seeking enlightenment?”
Kaushika lifts his chin. “They know the meadow is a safe haven.”
“Ah, yes, safe , because the great Sage Kaushika is defying the evil god Indra.” The older rishi laughs, and the sound is like rocks crashing. “You, daughter,” he says, glancing at me once again. “You are teaching him about reconciliation, are you not? The path of the Goddess? How well are you teaching him, if he still insists on this?”
I tremble where I stand. How does he know this? Does he also know I said those words only to shatter the ascetic path of the yogis? Or has he guessed at my relationship with Kaushika? Vashishta is so much older than Agastya and Gautama; he is ancient when compared to Kaushika. I am an infant in front of him, and as a sage, he pierces the veil of maya to see beyond into reality. My vision blurs. I tremble so hard that it is as if a chill has overtaken me. He will incinerate me where I stand, and if he doesn’t, then Kaushika will, simply to return to the Mahasabha’s good graces, simply to save face when I have deceived and betrayed him so.
“Leave her out of this,” Kaushika snaps. He stalks over to stand next to me. “She has nothing to do with this.”
Vashishta simply ignores him. He moves toward me as well, and his hands reach up to my shoulders. I gaze up to him through my terrified tears, unable to resist, too dazzled by his aura and power. Even Kaushika feels diminished, though he is standing right next to me.
“I will not spill your secrets,” the older man says softly to me. “But think of what role you intend to play in this, child. You are here as a sage-in-training, are you not? Think of who you truly want to be.”
He releases me abruptly and steps back. Vashishta nods to the other two sages, who have been silent. “We are finished here,” he says to them.
He makes to leave the tent, and I am still too disoriented to accept relief when Kaushika draws himself up to his full height. “You will not dismiss me, Vashishta,” he growls coldly. “You will hear me.”
“You dare—” Vashishta begins.
“Oh, I dare,” Kaushika replies, and his eyes blaze with fire and anger. The air warps around him, darkness and shadows that splinter across the cloth of the tent. Light grows between the shadows, like shooting stars ripping the skies. The auras of all of us diminish, and there is only Kaushika, brilliant and beautiful and frightening like a deva himself.
I shrink back, horrified.
Because in that moment I can truly see his fury, his hate, the shadows I have always known lurk within him now erupting with his magic. I see not the sage with control over himself but the prince he once was, bred into power and rule. I see not the man I have come to know but a stranger, with a temper and revulsion so strong that suddenly I realize this is the very same man who likely killed my sisters, a man who would destroy Indra if allowed to. These sages—and I, myself—are the only things standing between him and heaven’s total destruction.
My hand flies to my mouth in shock, and even Romasha and Anirudh are stunned. I know from their expressions that they have never seen Kaushika this way. Eka and Parasara cower back, and the other sages watch warily, none of them reacting.
The silence holds a mirror up to Kaushika’s temper.
His eyes widen, and suddenly the magic leaves him. His face grows horrified, and without another word, he whips around and leaves the tent, every muscle in his body screaming he be left alone.
The moment breaks. I know it is over. With this display of uncontrolled magic, Kaushika has lost what little support he had at the Mahasabha. He could have perhaps convinced Agastya and Gautama, but provoked by Vashishta, he has lost it all.
Anirudh and Romasha utter soft cries, but instead of following Kaushika, the mortals from the hermitage hover near the other sages, begging for forgiveness for their leader, asking for clemency. I look up to see Vashishta studying me, a world of meaning in his eyes. His words reverberate in my skull. Suddenly I see myself through his calculating gaze—an immortal in disguise, claiming to train as a sage, caught between defending the man who has killed her sisters and is willing to attack her home, and a god-king who has sent her to her death, who expects nothing but obedience.
Are these truly my choices? Am I condemned to protect those who will only hurt me, who are so mistaken in their own way, committed to not listening to reason? And what does that make me , to give myself to men like that—whether Kaushika or Lord Indra?
I cannot take this confrontation with myself any longer. I flee the tent behind Kaushika to get away from Vashishta’s knowing gaze.