Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
I float back to the ground.
My friends wait, having watched this exchange in the skies.
Nanda leaps forward to embrace me. Her chest heaves up and down in gasps. She is wrung out with the magic she performed; she is relieved like I am. Pain and sorrow will follow soon for both of us, for the fallen sisters who were forced into this battle. We do not yet know their names, but apsara fighting apsara has never happened before. She strokes my hair, and in the absence of Rambha I lean on her, tears filling my eyes for all that we have endured.
More bodies surround us, of the mortals who defended us. Anirudh squeezes me to him, and his eyes are blurred too. Kalyani’s lips press my forehead. I clasp her to me, relieved she is alive. All of us embrace one another. Shock is written on everyone’s faces, but laughter comes too, first from Nanda, then Anirudh.
Slowly, we untangle. Bit by bit, we clean the area around us, picking up stray arrows, vanquishing errant magic still remaining from the battle, creating funeral pyres for the dead. The mortals stop for food, but Nanda and I continue until the mortals join us again. I lose myself in the work. It is as though I am in the hermitage again, undertaking chores that silence my mind.
Noon rises, and I realize that we have been joined by someone else.
He comes to the camp silently, and next to me Nanda stiffens, part in terror and part in rage. I follow her gaze, and my heart skips a beat as Kaushika enters.
The other mortals stop what they’re doing, wariness in their eyes, but none of them speak. Kaushika makes for Anirudh and they speak quietly. Anirudh glances at me, then shrugs. He points Kaushika to where the earth lies ruptured. Without a word, Kaushika approaches it and begins to smooth it with his own magic. It ripples, dust and root flaking, until grass begins to grow.
“Why is he here?” Nanda asks me angrily, but I don’t respond.
I turn away, back to our own task, but my concentration and fragile peace are gone.
Kaushika stays with the group for the next two days. We do not speak to each other, though I am aware of his presence. Like planets orbiting the same sun, like lovers star-crossed, we move around each other, always in each other’s line of sight yet never acknowledging each other. Camphor and rosewood make my throat dry. I want to go to him, to ask him questions and to answer any he has, but grief from the battle holds me back. How many bodies have we discovered already? So many mortals, but so many immortals too. I have even clutched the remains of apsara sisters, their forms dissipated into golden dust, returning to pure celestial power as soon as I touched them. I cannot forgive Kaushika what he has done. But why doesn’t he come to me seeking forgiveness? We came to an understanding of each other during the battle, but it was never a full understanding. I wonder if any of it will ever be enough.
I do not seek him, and Kaushika doesn’t relent either. In the daytime, he goes where Anirudh directs him. He never takes the lead but works silently in the background, never looking at me, but never consciously avoiding me either. I catch Nanda’s hardening gaze. She does not speak to him, but her movements grow wooden when he is around. I suggest to her gently that she should return to swarga, but she shakes her head. She and I watch, our hands full of wood that can never go back to growing while the others build a hut as a symbol of a war sanctuary. I study the long lines of Kaushika’s body, and the topknot on his head. His simple clothes still never quite hide the muscle of his kshatriya build. Does he feel no remorse? Or is this work now a gesture of regret? I do not know what to make of him.
Anirudh and Parasara step back from the pile of rocks, and after a moment, Kaushika joins them. All three of them begin chanting, and their voices reverberate around us all. Nanda pauses next to me, and the other mortals stop their work on the hut, mesmerized. The voices of the men are tragic, beautiful. All of us watch as the pile of rocks begins to glow. It takes shape, becomes of one piece, almost fluid for an instant.
Then it solidifies into black marble, resembling an obelisk. Eka hurries forward and hands some tools over to Kaushika, who kneels and begins carving the dark rock. The marble begins to take shape under his touch. It is an apology. A regret. A shrine.
I stare at him for a moment longer, contemplating the stiff lines of his back. Only when Kalyani pulls me back to work do I blink and look away from Kaushika.
On the fifth day, when it becomes clear that Kaushika does not intend to leave, and instead help with setting things aright, Nanda corners him. I am surprised. Though she has so far given him dark, hateful glances, she has kept out of his way. But she has been growing incandescent with rage ever since the appearance of the marble obelisk, and now she marches up to him.
Tears glow in her eyes, and her face trembles. “Mortal,” she says without preamble, “you desecrated me.”
Kaushika straightens slowly from easing the earth back from the ruptures the war has caused. His hands drop by his sides. His mantras cease. He looks like he has been expecting this. He looks tired.
“It was done in error,” he says in a low voice. “I ask for forgiveness.”
Nanda spits at his feet. “Forgiveness?” she demands. “Ten thousand years you cursed me. To become inanimate rock for ten thousand years, trapped within my own mind. If Meneka had not released me, I would be nothing. I would be less than nothing.”
“Yes,” Kaushika says. His gaze locks on mine. “But what would have happened to me, apsara, if I had not defended myself? If I had simply let you command me without my permission? Would I have been less than nothing?”
For the space of a second, I can’t breathe.
I stare at him, my mouth dry. His gaze burns like hot coals, full of promises. Full of danger and hunger.
Nanda screams and shouts, but I barely register it, and neither does Kaushika. Our eyes are only for each other, and within his regard, I sense turmoil, and confusion, and sincerity. It is only when Nanda pushes his chest in anger that his gaze flickers away from mine. I take a breath, thinking to calm her, but the moment has passed. Spitting and cursing, she disappears, carried by the wind of Amaravati.
The other mortals begin muttering, but Kaushika simply returns to his task, easing the earth into place again in undulating waves. His fingers move in front of him as though he is playing an instrument. I turn back to my own work, my mind confused, my chest hollow.
I stay away for the rest of the day, wandering through the forest, collecting firewood and berries. I cannot stop thinking about what Nanda said, and how Kaushika responded. I cannot get the image of Kaushika out of my mind. The way we held each other. The way he pleaded, asking me who I was. The way he watched me, not a few hours ago. What is he thinking? I only need to ask. I understand his silence is not to punish me. It is in daring not to presume. Command and consent. Is this the true seduction?
When I finally return, it is dusk. I hope to sneak into camp, but I arrive to see everything cleared and put away. The hut we have been making is complete. Anirudh, Kalyani, and the other mortals linger at the threshold, watching as Kaushika carves the marble sculpture with his tools. Anirudh spies me first, and his face breaks into a smile.
“Meneka,” he says, and beyond him, Kaushika stills. “You’re back, finally. We didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”
My heart sinks. “You’re leaving too?”
“We must,” Kalyani says, hugging me. “We have duties at the hermitage. A life we must return to.”
“You could come with us,” Romasha adds. “There are still things you can learn from us, and teach us too.”
I glance at her face. My heart breaks in that moment as I think of my friends and their laughter. They accepted me, despite myself, as myself.
I shake my head. I cannot go back there. I am not done here in this forest. I have not decided my path forward. It would not be the right thing.
Anirudh and Romasha exchange a look, though Kalyani looks saddened and unsurprised. “We understand,” she says quietly. “But know that you will always be welcome there. No matter what.”
I hug each of them in turn and watch as they collect their bedrolls and strap them to their backs. A lump grows in my throat, and I swallow it, watching their shadows disappear.
Then there is no avoiding it.
I turn to Kaushika, who stands up from his sculpture and glances up at me warily.
“You are not going back to your hermitage,” I say.
“You are not returning to your city,” he points out.
“I have unfinished business here.”
“As do I.”
I don’t reply but merely stare at him, my chin lifted. Kaushika turns back to the sculpture, and I see then that it is not a shrine to the fallen. It is a statue of a dancer, her head thrown back, arms raised to the sky.
It is more than I can take.
Eyes filling with tears, I enter the hut to escape him.
He does not follow.
W E FALL INTO A STRANGE RHYTHM.
Every morning Kaushika tends the fire, or cleans the area around the hut, or makes a meal, similar to the fare we ate at the hermitage. I wander into the forest, collecting herbs and berries, one time finding wild potatoes, bringing them back to this place that we share.
We rarely speak, except in constrained politeness, the air between us thick with unspoken feelings, unanswered questions.
I dare not disturb this uneasy peace. What will I say? Where will I begin? Is it not better to delay? Kaushika is deliberate too. His aura still forces my attention, but there is something subdued about it after the battle. A thoughtfulness I am surprised to see.
He has never been volatile, but a steadiness accompanies him now, and for the first time since we met I understand how he is truly a sage. The steadfastness and solidity that tapasya requires, the long hours of meditation … Before this, I had only seen him performing magic or leading other students. I had only seen the prince and the warrior. This quiet economy and unobtrusiveness of existence is a whole new side of him, yet new only to me. It is a kind of trust, I realize. To let me see him this way.
It is slow—this return to trust.
It appears in fleeting moments.
One time I arrive at the small pool near the hut to bathe, and Kaushika is already there. He is submerged to the waist, his dark skin glistening, performing prayers while in the water. I hesitate, then remove my clothes to enter the same pool. So what if he is praying? The pool is mine as much as his.
He knows I am there, but he does not open his eyes as he pours the water from cupped hands onto his hair and into the pool again. It is trust, again, a measure of it. To not interrupt him. To not be interrupted.
I gaze upon his muscular body, filled out like a warrior. He does not open his eyes, but his throat moves in a swallow, and my stomach stirs in anticipation. You are a sage , I think. And I am an apsara. That will never change.
I linger, watching his chest beaded with water, his neck open to the skies in offering, his lips that murmur a prayer. When he is done, he rises, unashamed of his nakedness. He gives no indication of noticing me, but after he puts his clothes back on he gives me a brief nod before disappearing into the trees. Trust, again. For more than the lust I feel within me.
Things begin appearing in the hut, day by day. Furniture, clothes, plates and cutlery. I return from the forest to see them there, Kaushika tending quietly to them, making this a place of comfort. At first, I resist the pull of my curiosity, but when there is no sign of him breaking first, I cannot help but ask. I sit opposite him, by an evening fire. I have been folding laundry, but my fingers stop and I clear my throat.
“Where is this coming from? The hermitage?”
Kaushika pauses as he unpacks a set of plain kurta and pajamas. He shakes his head. “The meadow,” he answers. “When my army abandoned it, we did not take everything from there.”
Of course. I try not to flinch. “What has become of your army?” I ask.
“They have returned to where they came from. I have sent the survivors home.”
“But the meadow still exists,” I remark.
“It does,” he says softly. “The army will return when I ask them to. They have only returned to a realm that is more sustainable than the meadow, even though the halahala has disappeared.”
He gives me a knowing look, as though he understands I had something to do with the removal of the poison, but I just laugh humorlessly, hands tightening on the sheet I fold. “Is that your unfinished business then? You retain your army and your meadow because you prepare for a second battle?”
His eyes meet mine across the distance. I feel my cheeks warming. It is a cruel question, a foolish one. I do not think he will reply, but he surprises me.
“No,” he says quietly. “The battle is finished for now.”
But not forever , I think. Still, I cannot help the lightness in my heart. He is here. He has not left. It must mean something.
He hesitates a long moment, then his eyes rest on mine. “I never lied to you, Meneka.”
“Did I?” I retort.
“By omission, don’t you think?” he says quietly.
It is true, and perhaps I should feel shame for it, but I do not. I raise my chin in silent defiance. Kaushika shakes his head as though to deny any need for a challenge.
“It is only a thought,” he says mildly. “It is not an accusation.” His eyes flit away from me, back into the woods, toward where the hermitage lies. “I will leave if you want. From here. From your forest.”
An ache grows in me, sharp and confusing. “Why are you here at all?”
Kaushika blinks and his gaze finds mine. He swallows as though the words are difficult to say. His fingers move restlessly and a haunted look enters his eyes before he masters himself.
“Do you not know?” he murmurs. “I am here because I must atone, Meneka. You tried to tell me to stop. To find another way. But caught in my own pride, I did not listen to you. I do not expect you to forgive me, not after the way I abandoned you. Not after what I did to your own sisters. But I hope that you will allow me to apologize. That is what this is.”
I say nothing for a long time. He does not rush me but merely goes back to arranging the clothes he has brought. Soon he begins to make a meal while I sit lost in my own mind. I know that the words he has spoken are more than an apology. They are both a reckoning for him and a path forward. How am I to proceed?
“I should have told you,” I say finally. “That I am an apsara.”
“Perhaps I was a coward too,” he replies. His gaze flickers to me. “To blame you. To leave you when you could not tell me your reasons.”
My heart seizes with his admission. It is one I never expected. I am disarmed beyond my own doubts. My fingers knot within the sheet I fold, creating wrinkles.
Kaushika’s own hands still from the meal he is making. “Nanda came to me to deceive me,” he says. “But perhaps you did not. I should have understood this before. I should have trusted myself to see, to know. Trusted you. Looking back, I can see how you even tried to tell me who you were, but perhaps I did not make it safe for you to do so. For that I am truly sorry.”
Here it is, the apology that should make things better, but can I forgive so easily? What about my own mistakes? I have owned up to them, paid for them several times over—but too much has come between us already, and not all of it is resolved.
Yet there can be no moving forward without clarity about my intentions. If I am to salvage anything with him, I have to be honest, no matter how much it will hurt. I corral my courage and lift my chin again.
“I do not want to lie anymore,” I say. “Know that I intend to return to Amaravati one day. My words to Indra were a promise. The battle may be over for now, but Amaravati still needs protection during the Vajrayudh, and the city is my home. I will do whatever I can to safeguard it, even if I must do so from you.”
My words are like stones in my mouth, but Kaushika only nods like he has been expecting it.
“I must keep my vow too,” he says. “The souls of many are denied entry into swarga. Including that of King Satyavrat. Indra will have to relent, no matter his laws.”
My brows rise at that. “Does that mean you expect me to relent too, regarding Indra? It might not make sense to you, after all the wrongs he has done me, but my devotion cannot be erased so easily, Kaushika. It runs in my blood. It is in the stories I grew up with. The beauty and luxuries of Amaravati, the peace I have felt there—these are not compulsions in the way you see them, but embedded within my heritage, my very culture , sustaining my devotion to the lord, even if he has behaved arrogantly.”
He tilts his head and gives me a speculative look. A sliver of challenge flickers in his gaze, but he nods. “I understand. I don’t expect you to love him any less, Meneka. But my own purpose burns within me, too, despite everything.”
“Then this peace itself is an illusion,” I counter. “We have resolved nothing.”
At that, Kaushika’s gaze turns quiet, searing. “I wonder,” he says softly.
And I think of how I began this journey on my knees in Indra’s court. How I faced the lord and won after my exile. How Kaushika and I are still here together despite everything, and how we shared a vision of love in the skies in the heat of the battle. Too many things have occurred to dismiss. His tears and mine. His causes and my betrayals. The journey we have taken, to be here now, in this quiet forest, by this intimate hut. Both of us are still bound by what we need to do, yet transformed beyond our dreams, holding two opposing purposes within ourselves even as we stay true to who we are. Kaushika and Indra have done so much wrong, yet I love them both despite their enmity, despite their flaws. I finally understand that my devotion for them has little to do with them, but everything to do with me. Is nothing truly resolved? I wonder too.
After that, it is easier between us.
L ATER THAT NIGHT A VISITOR COMES TO THE HUT. I HAVE fallen into a fitful sleep, my head full of dreams of Kaushika, scented by camphor and rosewood. I open my eyes, and there she is, a luminescent glow emanating from her. Her aura fills the one-chambered home. My eyes widen and I stumble off the bed. I fall to my knees, aware that I am dressed in only my shift. My hair tumbles down my back. My knees and shoulders are bare. This is no way to appear in front of the goddess. No way to appear before the mother of heaven.
“Queen S-Shachi,” I stutter.
I cannot breathe properly, too entranced by her loveliness. I have not seen her since that time in Indra’s throne room when I accepted this fateful mission, but I have not spoken to her in years . Does she know my name? She must. She is here. Why is she here? My thoughts confuse me, the same way they once did with Indra. I dare not look upon her too intently, but even in my sleep-befuddled state, I can tell she is studying me. Shadows fall across the walls, and I see her tilt her head. The sari she wears hugs her curves, and unlike in the throne room when it was a fiery red, this time it is a sheer black, like she is a shadow of the night. The black shifts, sometimes edged with a shining silver, other times with stars caught within it, a mirage in itself.
Vaguely, I wonder why Kaushika has not sensed her, with so much of her magic pouring into the hut. Either he has left like all the others while I stay here in the indecisiveness of my own mind, or—a horrible thought— she has done something to him.
“He is still here,” Shachi says, amused as though hearing me. “Asleep under my enchantment. He is a powerful man. But he is a man. And I am a goddess.”
“Devi,” I whisper, unable to say anything else.
“Rise, apsara,” she says, flickering her fingers. “Sit.”
I obey. Tentatively, I seat myself at the edge of my cot. It is then that I notice that she has arrived with two other figures. I blink at the two women standing on either side of her, watching me silently. No, not just two women. Two apsaras. The same two who were sent before me to this very mission to seduce Kaushika. Magadhi and Sundari both wear deep inky-blue saris, each of them as beautiful as the other, yet neither more than Shachi. A thousand questions pour into me, and a croak of disbelief escapes me before I can control myself. Goose bumps erupt on my skin. I know somehow that I am in terrible danger.
Queen Shachi studies me for a long moment, then sits down next to me. The bed does not shift with her weight. Goddess , I think. Is this an illusion?
“You called on the devis during the battle,” she says softly. “Where do you think we were?”
“Protecting Amaravati,” I whisper. “In case the war came to the city’s doorstep.”
Shachi shakes her head. “We were angry.”
She is quiet for a long moment. I think of what Rambha told me about Shachi and her questioning of Indra.
“We have been angry a long time,” Shachi says finally. “I think you are familiar with such anger towards the lord. Did you not feel it when you were sent for this mission? I did, when I learned you had been manipulated into it. Oh, Indra tried to tell me you volunteered , as though that should appease me, but I came for you to the mortal forest by Kaushika’s hermitage, only to learn I was too late. It was I who triggered the sage’s warding, though I did not intend to. I was unable to protect you, but you did well enough on your own, did you not?”
My eyes widen. I don’t know how to respond. Kaushika’s ward was triggered by one who meant to harm him or the hermitage. Is that Shachi’s intent? It is all I can do to keep my face still, to not show her how much this scares me.
“When Indra sent Nanda the first time, we were all unaware of Kaushika’s danger, his capability . When she did not return, I knew Indra had wasted her. He insisted on sending Magadhi and Sundari, but them I could keep safe. You, on the other hand …” Shachi reaches forward and lifts my chin. “I thought you lost, but you provided a fine opportunity.”
Her luscious lips curve into a smile. A chill goes down my spine.
“The halahala,” I cannot help whispering. “That was you.”
The goddess laughs, a rich, tinkling sound. “Surely you did not believe it was Indra? The lord is not capable of it, he has vowed not to touch it. He made the promise to Shiva. Indra is too much of a coward to break the promise.”
“But—but he is the only one who can access those vaults,” I stutter. “The stories—”
“Forget so often about us women, do they not?” Shachi says in a whisper. “Tell me, apsara. What is my name?”
I blink, not understanding, then my tongue flashes out to coat my suddenly dry mouth with moisture. Shachi, she is called, but also Indrani, the goddess who belongs with Indra, who is a part of Indra, his other half, just like Shiva and Shakti are two halves of the same whole. If Indra can access the halahala, so can she. Why did the stories never sing of her? Why did even the gandharvas forget?
“Why?” I croak. “Why send such a poison to the hermitage?”
“Because I needed this battle to occur before the Vajrayudh,” Shachi replies, eyes glinting. “Because I needed Indra weakened and defeated if possible. Rambha told us of your questioning nature, and I understood that Kaushika’s hate for Indra is deep and enduring. All the sage needed was a push, but it would need to be a significant one. Sending halahala showed me not only Kaushika’s power, unrivaled by any other mortal in this realm, but also his ambition. It unspooled his own actions, forcing him to deny the other sages in the Mahasabha, in preparing his army for battle.” Shachi shrugs her lovely shoulders and strokes her thick, flower-filled braid carelessly. “Indra is not fit to rule swarga, and I have long sought someone more worthy. Who better than this sage who seeks to usurp the lord? Who better than a powerful being like Kaushika by my side, sharing my throne? I will still be married to Indra—to be together is our destiny. But perhaps this time he will serve me and become my concubine, while I rule swarga.”
“Kaushika does not wish for heaven’s throne,” I whisper. “He will not want to take Indra’s place.”
“Does he not wish for the Goddess either?” Shachi says, amused. “You yourself taught him that wisdom, did you not? And who am I if not a part of divine Shakti herself?”
I see her power, her beauty, her ambition. My throat feels choked, filled with tears. I swallow, and it is a loud sound in the silence of the hut.
“Why are you telling me this?” I breathe.
“Indra has Rambha as his loyal servant, one who tells him everything about the apsaras. It is time I have my own agent too. And one who barely tolerates the lord, who has seduced Kaushika, even gotten him to fall in love with her?” Shachi’s smile is wide. She reaches forward to stroke my cheek with a glittering, bloodred nail. “Daughter. You belong to me.”
The implication is clear.
Her weapon. Not Indra’s.
Shachi lets go of my face. I feel her nail marks burn my skin. Dread pools in my belly, and I touch my cheeks but there is no scarring. She has left her mark within me somehow, claiming me for her own.
The queen stands up, but leaves behind a package on the cot. Apsara raiment, glorious and magical—and upon it a celestial blade. It is carved and jagged, shaped like a lightning bolt. A weapon from heaven, perhaps from Indra’s own quiver. I tremble as I remember the manner in which the halahala released like a blade of lightning. Is this one tipped with poison too?
“The clothes are for when you return to heaven,” Shachi says. “And the blade should you need it before that. Indra sent you on a task to stop the sage from attacking him before the Vajrayudh. Your job now is to encourage him to do so within that time. Only a few months remain, daughter. Do not fail me.”
A thousand questions bubble within me, but my tongue feels heavy. It doesn’t matter. A reply is not expected. With another sharp smile, Shachi and the two apsaras blink out and I am left alone. I gasp as though a weight has disappeared from my chest with the queen gone.
The clothes and jewelry shine at me from my cot, but it is the lightning shard I pick up as if hypnotized. It is powerful, but it is not tainted with halahala—I would sense it were it so. Still, it is as threatening to me as that poison.
Once it was Indra who commanded me, but now it is Shachi, and I dare not disobey her either. She was the one who sent halahala to Kaushika, something that could have ripped him from the cycle of rebirth altogether, all as a test of his mettle, of his worth by her side. Shachi had no way of knowing if Kaushika would survive it. He almost didn’t—it was only my magic that saved him. What if she finds another way to harm him? The blade feels heavy in my hand, giving me the answers.
She wishes to rein Kaushika, the two of them together ruling heaven, but if I fail to obey her, she will kill Kaushika herself. She will either have him by her side or destroy him. Perhaps she will force me to destroy him with my own hand—in her own capriciousness and pride.
As for me … I have already made an enemy of Indra. If I make an enemy of Shachi too, I will never be able to return home, no matter who has the throne. Shachi has shown me how unpredictable she truly is. She is born of the asuras, her father a king of the hellish realm. Her marriage to Indra has always been shrouded in mystery, but though she is as heavenly as I am now, once she resided in the demonic realm. I cannot imagine what she would have in store for me. Between Shachi and Indra, how will Amaravati be safe? And am I to choose between the lord and his queen, when they are so inseparable?
My mission has not ended. It never will.
My heart grows cold. I leave the hut, clutching the blade to me in a daze. Outside, the air is clear and Kaushika stirs by the fire, waking now that Shachi’s spell has lifted. His voice is weary, thick with sleep. He makes to rise.
“Meneka? What is it?”
I am upon him in an instant, the blade to his throat. Immediately his eyes sharpen, glinting with firelight. He is wide-awake now, alert and on his knees.
My voice is a warning. “You said you will keep your vow to King Satyavrat. That Indra will need to relent. Do you intend to war again?”
Kaushika watches me without a hint of fear. “I intend to do what I must. But I will not lie to you or hide things from you. That I can promise.”
“It is not good enough,” I hiss. I push the blade into his skin. A trickle of blood appears and I stare at it, but Kaushika does not seem to notice.
“What kind of promise would you have me make, then?” he asks quietly.
“One you will not break. One as deep as your deepest vows. I cannot have you harming my sisters anymore. Nor my home. The creatures who live within Amaravati are innocent, and we cannot be casualties to your purpose. I will not allow it.”
Kaushika nods slowly. “I promise you. I will find a way to fulfill my vow that will bring no harm to your city or your kin. I will not harm your sisters. On Shiva’s own name, I vow this.”
He looks at me expectantly, and I do not know what I will do with Shachi’s instruction, but a weight in my heart releases. Still, I do not pull back the blade. I will have another truth from him, this one for myself.
“You speak of Shiva,” I say softly. “He told me I was a creature of love, but Indra has always called my kind creatures of lust. Within the groves, we are treated like soldiers, dancers of heaven’s army, trained for one purpose alone.”
Kaushika frowns. “You are more than any of those,” he says gruffly.
“And what is that?”
His eyes meet mine. “You are whoever you wish to be, Meneka.”
The blade trembles in my hand. He doesn’t flinch.
“And if I am a creature of lust? If I am an instrument of power? If I am everything I dread?”
“Then you are still Meneka,” he says angrily. “And you are still mine.”
He pushes the blade of lightning away like it means nothing. He stands up, towering over me, staring at me. “If you will have me,” he says quietly, “I am yours too.”
The lightning shard falls from my hand. I reach for him, heart blazing. His hands encircle my waist, and Kaushika bends his head to me. I close my eyes as our lips meet. Our tongues collide in a hungry assault, our pain and loss and desire all rolled into one heated kiss. His mouth punishes me, and I punish his in return, clinging to him as his tongue swirls and teases me. I know the kiss is more than lust. It is curiosity about who we are, now that we see each other in our honesty and reality. It is a promise to attempt love, to fight for it, even if the three realms themselves keep us from each other, pulling us away.
Kaushika angles my head, kissing deeper, and a satisfied sigh builds in me. I think with a rush of emotion and peace and fragility that this is how it always will be. We are immortal souls, all of us caught in the conspiracies of life. If it is not Indra, it is the goddess, and if it is neither of them, it is us, ourselves. We can choose to belong to ourselves. We can choose to belong to each other.
For now, I make the easy choice. I choose to trust in my love for this man, and in his love for me. I thread my hands through Kaushika’s hair and let him take me.