Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
I don’t know how long I stand there, stunned and grieving, unable to make sense of what has just occurred. Twice I attempt to move, to follow him and beg him to see my point of view, to talk to me, but any explanation I want to make seems hollow. I stand there as though I am the one cursed to become stone, my mind turbulent, reliving everything about the meadow, about Nanda’s fate and Kaushika’s words never to return, everything I’ve learned about myself.
It seems like hours pass. Perhaps it is only a few seconds.
My tether to Amaravati flames, and light grows in front of my eyes, and suddenly Rambha is back, just as she promised. I stagger, staring, momentarily forgetting my grief.
Rambha glows so luminous that she is almost blurry. I receive a startling sense that she is trying to hold her form. That she is so powerful her own body cannot contain her.
Then I blink, and the impression is gone. Rambha stands there, poised and beautiful, looking the same as she always has.
Still. Something is different. She has always been lovely—one of the most beautiful and seductive apsaras of Indra’s court. Now a whole different power radiates off her. Her onyx skin glows golden, a glitter that reminds me of Amaravati’s dust. Her sari, though wrapped around her sensuously, is no longer its usual green—a color Rambha prefers. Instead, it is bright blue, a favorite color of Lord Indra, reminiscent of the sky itself. The hues shift on it, clouds weaving in and out, each thread reminding me of a different mood of the lord. Even her jewelry is not part of an apsara’s attire. Her emerald bangles, the sapphire rings, the ruby nose pin—all of those are from Indra’s collection. The power in them sings to my own celestial magic, awakening it, even though I am not the one wearing them.
My heart sinks. These clothes are a sign. She has given herself over completely to Indra. No longer my friend but a handler. His agent.
A part of me still wants to go to her despite this, to search her eyes and beg her to make matters all right. I remain rooted to the spot instead, her magnificent power washing over me. There is an aloofness on her face I have never seen before. Her scent bewilders me. Once it was light, its star-anise delicate and insidious, the kind of scent that could carve a place in one’s heart without their knowledge. Now it is sharp, with a fire edging it, like lightning in a storm. It attacks me, and my palms grow sweaty. I try to take a deep breath.
“Meneka,” Rambha says, and her voice echoes. “Did you do as you were asked?”
I swallow. The timbre is as melodious as ever, but the words burrow under my skin. I want to submit to her. Please her. The compulsion grows in me, and I become slightly dizzy, the forest spinning in my vision. What is happening? What is she doing?
My voice comes out a croak. “Yes. I … I lay with him,” I whisper.
At this, Rambha’s mouth thins into a smile. “Then I must commend you. Though would it not have been better to do so from the very beginning, Meneka? If you did not think yourself better than your sisters?”
So much cruelty is laden into those questions that a spark of indignance flickers inside me. Kaushika and I lay together by this very pond. We worshiped each other. We loved. It was pure and sweet and true. I will not allow her to sully the memory.
I open my mouth to retort, but she is already shaking her head, past it. “Very well, then. You lay with him. What did that achieve?”
“No, it wasn’t—I didn’t—it was not for the mission—I wanted to—”
“You wanted to.”
“Yes. For devotion—not like yours for Indra—but—” My words catch in my throat, bony and brittle.
The heartache of the last few hours pounds inside my head. I try to inhale and clear it, but Rambha’s scent comes to me again, overpowering me, her magic so strong that I am slow in her presence. Her power is a subtle reminder. This is what Indra’s blessing can do for me too.
“For devotion,” Rambha says. “Then he is in love with you too? He is seduced?”
I stare at Rambha and try to remember her the way I saw her the last time. The ache for Amaravati, to finally return home after such a long internment in the mortal realm, blooms in me. Memories flash in my head—fruit-laden apsara groves, laughter and song, gandharvas with their music, and the sweet scent of cinnamon. Endless dance and gold mansions. Skies underneath my feet, chasing my footsteps. Hymns and solace and luxury. If I close my eyes, I can see it, the swarga where I belong, where I will live my immortal life. That is all I wanted.
But that was before .
Before Kaushika.
“Meneka?” Rambha presses. “Answer me.”
My thoughts constantly pull away. I am in the middle of the ocean, a storm raging around me. My hold on lucidity is loose, and in desperation I lift my wrist, the motion slow. I carve a rune in the air, one Kaushika taught me. A rune for clarity. My wooden comb tingles in my hair, and even as the rune completes and dissolves, a burst of light suffuses me, clearing the fog in my head. I inhale sharply, blinking.
Rambha is still waiting for my reply. I see the revulsion in her eyes that I’ve used mortal magic instead of my own celestial one.
“Meneka,” she says, and this time it is a command, “ is Kaushika seduced? ”
“No,” I whisper. “He is not seduced and he will never be. Not through the methods of Amaravati. Not in the way we apsaras perform. Nothing I do will influence him.”
Rambha smiles. It’s a glint, so satisfied and malicious that a small gasp escapes me. “Then you have failed. I will report it to Indra, and he will decide your punishment.” She turns, her mouth already opening to form the prayer that will take her back to the City of Immortals.
I move forward hastily. This is my one chance to set things right between swarga and the mortal realm. To save Kaushika. He did not listen to me, but Rambha will. She has to. She loved me once. She was my friend. The words pour out of me in panic.
“Rambha, wait. He knows I am an apsara. I—I told him. I had to, in order to prevent him from doing anything drastic. But he is furious, wanting to bring the battle to Indra with his army—and he will be destroyed. Rambha, you have to stop the lord, you have to make him understand—”
Somewhere thunder cracks, loud enough to drown out the rest of my speech.
The afternoon grows darker. Quieter.
Rambha trembles, her body still half-turned from me.
I think of what I must sound like to her. She and the lord are bound to each other in a way I don’t understand. Did he feel her reaction to what I said? I look up at the sky, and dark storm clouds gather above, visible through the gaps in the leaves. I shiver.
“An army?” she says. “You have seen this army?”
I look back at her. “Kaushika has told me of it. But it is all a misunderstanding. If the lord only listens, if the two of them negotiate—Rambha, you can make the lord see reason. It is for the lord’s own benefit, please . The mortal realm is already turning away from Indra, believing him to be the enemy. If Indra made peace with Kaushika, it would turn favor toward the lord again. Everyone would see him for his greatness and magnanimity. The lord only needs to ask forgiveness from Kaushika. He has done this with other sages before, and if he gives Kaushika the respect that is his due, then Kaushika will retreat, I know he will—”
Rambha spins around. Her eyes flash, and lightning cracks above. “This is blasphemy.”
“No—I—”
“You think the lord should ask for forgiveness? You would defy Indra? To whom you owe everything , even your magic? For this one mortal man?”
I raise my chin. “I love him.”
Her laughter is almost a shriek. “ Love? This isn’t love. It is a passing fancy. You are a child. What do you know about love? You may be an immortal, but you haven’t lived more than a few years. Live longer, and then talk about love.”
Her power sharpens, radiating around me, but I hold my ground. It is easier now that I’ve begun. “Maybe I don’t understand true love,” I say. “Maybe as an apsara I never can. It does not mean my feelings are insincere. Take my message to Indra, please. Or to Queen Shachi. She will listen, she didn’t want apsaras to go to this mission, she will not want this battle— you do not want this battle, surely—”
She cuts across me. “Where is this army? Where did you see it assembled?”
“I—I didn’t—I didn’t see it, but—”
“Do not lie to me,” Rambha snaps. “You are trying to protect him. This creature you love is a threat to your lord, and yet you defend him at every turn.”
“Because I finally understand. I’ve wanted my freedom from being Indra’s weapon for so long, and what these people are asking—it is the same thing. Kaushika says he will not rest until Indra abdicates his hold on heaven. Rambha, living under Indra’s rule, being sent for these missions because he has decided that is my nature—this is what I wanted freedom from. Maybe Kaushika is not entirely wrong. Maybe this is what we need, Indra not as the master of swarga, but its guardian—”
“How dare you?” Rambha rasps.
The skies open in a flood. Lightning flashes over and over again. I cry out, shielding my eyes, staring up.
The afternoon has turned wholly gray. A storm rains down, and I am drenched in seconds. Thick black clouds cover every inch of the skies, and thunder roils deafeningly with the wrath of heaven. My knees shake.
I glance at Rambha—but it isn’t Rambha. Her face is changing, a veil slipping off. Everything around her blurs—
And then the illusion explodes .
My throat grows dry.
In Rambha’s place stands Indra, tall and magnificent. His crown is so bright, I blink rapidly, dazed.
Shorn of his illusion, all his power smashes into me, and I crumple to my knees. The skies still rain, and the air grows heavy, making it hard to breathe.
“My—my lord,” I whimper, confused and horrified.
It was never Rambha. I was speaking to Indra himself.
Lord Indra, who is the king of all the devas, ruler of Amaravati and swarga.
Lord Indra, who is storm lord, battle king, the destroyer of a thousand demons.
Lord Indra, who has never looked as furious as he does now, and who points his vajra, the sizzling lightning bolt, straight at my heart.
The vajra spits, sparks of fury burning off it. In Indra’s contemptuous eyes, there is not a single hint of the drunken lord I saw last.
“Beg for mercy, child,” he says coldly, the vajra thrumming in his hand. “And give me Kaushika.”