Chapter 40
It drizzled at the beginning of our journey, but the rain let up as the daylight faded, leaving us in a purple haze that colored everyone and everything in indigo shadows as we guided our horses along the Gurupura River.
Stars tried to shine through the remaining daylight, but they struggled.
Still, they burned in anticipation of the moment they could light the sky.
In the town ahead, people had already begun to light their lamps and torches.
The flames danced and flickered, casting a warm yellow glow in the blue hues of nightfall.
Parushi and Thevan insisted that we stop and buy some torches so we could keep riding through the night.
They also, conveniently, made sure I found my way to a fire in the village’s temple.
The firepit was set in the middle of the temple’s courtyard, which was empty aside from me, Tara, and Nallini.
At the far end of the courtyard, a small set of steps led to a long wooden altar.
Through the flames, I could see a row of clay bowls filled with different types of incense set on a small table to the side of the altar.
My feet were drawn toward them, and I followed.
The incense came in many different lengths and widths, but a rough bowl at the end caught my attention.
I lifted one of the small sticks and gently inhaled.
Orange. For the strength to fight and the courage to do it with honor.
Without thinking, I lit it, placed it at the altar, and fell to my knees.
I didn’t know what to expect—I certainly wasn’t about to pray to the Spirits that had deserted me in Banghervari—but for a moment, my thoughts were blessedly quiet.
There was a deep nothing, just black silence and utter calm.
Was this what Ektha felt when she prayed? This sense of peace?
There was a flash behind my eyelids, and a giant green lion’s face exploded into my mind’s eye.
“Matanta!” My eyes snapped open.
Nallini and Tara, who were kneeling next to me, stopped praying and stared.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just . . . I just remembered something I need to do. We should leave. I’m sure Parushi and Thevan will be done soon.”
Tara stood up immediately, but Nallini took a few moments to finish her prayer. They helped me to my feet, and we left the temple, our sticks of incense sending up swirls of smoke behind us.
Parushi and Thevan approached us as we left the courtyard.
His eyebrows drew together as he stared at me worriedly through the flickering torchlight.
I tried to smile, but he saw right through me.
I should have known better than to try to pretend with Thevan.
I’d gotten into the habit of acting in Banghervari, but I’d be happy to shed it when I returned to Ullal.
“Sorry it took so long,” Parushi said. “They’ve run out of torches and haven’t had a chance to make more.”
“We bought the few torches they had on hand as well as some of their coconut leaves.” Thevan gestured to the long packs the horses carried. “We can make more as we ride. It’s either that or we stay the night.”
I hated the thought of delaying our journey. “No, we leave now. We can take turns wrapping torches as we ride. We should be able to cross the river into Ullal at dawn.”
Everyone seemed relieved by my decision, and they mounted their horses. I looked for Maraan’s black coat for a moment before remembering that he wasn’t here. And neither was Chaaya. Both had made the journey to Banghervari with me but would never be able to return home.
My heart pounded, ripping open the wounds I’d forced to scar so quickly. I froze as I fought to push the emotions back down to a place where they were hidden—where I wouldn’t have to feel them in every breath and see my memories behind every blink—but they refused to be contained.
A heavy hand rested on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Thevan’s black eyes staring down at me. He had dismounted, and he handed me the reins to Aru’s horse. I gripped them reflexively but didn’t move otherwise.
“We cannot dwell.” His voice was rough—almost gruff—but there was an undeniable warmth in his truth. “We are warriors; our sorrows must harden our blades. The best way to avenge them is to keep going forward and never stop fighting.”
He withdrew his hand from my shoulder with a jerk, as if he’d forgotten it was resting there, leaving me cold. I stared at him, reins in hand, and tried to find words that didn’t die on my tongue.
Parushi cleared her throat from atop her horse. She and Tara were looking away pointedly, and apparently Parushi was trying to get Nallini to do the same. Nallini’s eyes widened as she realized she was staring, and she developed a keen curiosity in the dried coconut leaves hanging beside her.
I blushed and stepped away from Thevan. He mounted his horse as Aru’s white stallion leaned into my palm. The warhorse nickered softly as I scratched his head before climbing onto his back.
“Aru never told me your name.” I stroked his silken white mane, so soft compared to Maraan’s. “What do you think of Sima? After the white fluff that they say covers the peaks in the north?”
He pranced proudly, and we started on our way.
Soon we were heading down a narrow road out of town and weaving into the woods where trees reached for the sky on either side of us.
The path smelled of wet earth, and our horses flicked up mud with their every step, covering us in splatters.
We didn’t see any other travelers; most people had the sense to rest instead of continuing forward in the company of the chirping cicadas and the trilling caracals.
Darkness fell, covering us in an ebony blanket, and the towering trees became shadows that dissolved into the night.
The coconut leaf torches worked quite well, lighting the space around us with a golden glow.
Ahead of me, Parushi and Tara were huddled together in conversation.
Parushi held a light aloft while Tara’s nimble fingers whipped together torches.
Nallini rode behind me and worked on torches as well, and Thevan carried one as he rode in the back.
The flickering light gave his face a warm glow, softening the hard lines of his features and making him look more like he had when we were younger.
He’d always had mischief in his eyes then, and they used to light up whenever he laughed.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard the sound.
I urged Sima to Thevan’s side and watched the light flicker across his face for a moment before clearing my throat. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you at the beach.”
He grunted and kept looking forward, refusing to meet my eyes. Even though we were in the middle of a forest of towering trees, all I could think of was the beach where we last stood together in Ullal. Where he’d asked me, not in so many words, to reconsider my marriage, and I had refused.
But he’d come to save me anyway.
I swallowed, trying to find the words to thank him, but only managed to get out, “You’re here.”
Thevan twisted toward me. Keeping his eyes on mine, he handed me his torch, which I took without question.
Then he reached down to the hilt of one of his daggers and gently unwound something from it.
He held it out, and it took me a moment to realize I should look at his hand instead of continuing to stare at his face.
In his calloused palm, he held Samanth’s bracelet.
Its threads were battered and torn, but it still held together.
“You called,” he said, the corners of his lips mimicking the small shrug of his shoulders.
I took the bracelet from him with trembling fingers. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Hopefully, he would think any color on my cheeks was because of the heat of the torch.
“Always.” He put his fist to his chest. Over his heart.
My cheeks burned even hotter as I stared into his eyes, which were wide open once again—just as they had been on the beach so long ago.
Thevan had truly meant what he said. If I ever needed him, he would come, no matter the risk—or the hurt—to himself.
Thevan didn’t have Aru’s way with words, but his actions spoke volumes more.
My breath caught in my chest, and I didn’t know what to say.
He mistook my silence. “Nallini could use more light,” he grunted.
Thevan fell back and scrutinized every shadow for its hidden motives.
His walls had gone back up again, and his stonelike expression made it clear he was in no mood for more conversation.
I knew my thoughts would only go in circles if I sat in silence, so I pulled closer to Nallini, who was still winding and binding coconut leaf torches.
“Why did you decide to come?” I asked by way of greeting. I held my torch out to my side, far enough away that the dry leaves Nallini twisted were not at risk but close enough for her to better see what she was doing.
“You have no fear of direct questions.” Her fingers never stopped working as she formed the torch in the blazing light of the fire I held aloft.
“But at least you’re fair in what you ask.
I came because I couldn’t continue to stand in the shadow of a man like Vishwajeet.
I know him too well to think he can change. ”
She paused. “What made you decide to leave?”
“The same.” I bobbed my head in agreement. “I can’t claim to know him well, but I knew him well enough to understand that much is true.”
“I have known him ever since I was a child, but I still wouldn’t say I know him well.” Her fingers still knotted and twisted the dry leaves as she met my eyes and spoke. “Did you know that my parents worked with Vishwajeet’s family?”
My blank expression answered her question.
“It’s true,” Nallini said. “Vishwajeet’s father was the right hand of the late raja, and my parents were amongst his closest counsel, along with Vishwajeet and his brother.”
“Vishwajeet has a brother?” I asked.