Chapter 46
As we wove through the paarijaata trees near Matanta’s cave, I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice Thevan stopping at the tree line.
I ran straight into his back. Neither of us moved for a moment while I was pressed close to him.
I nestled my head into the back of his shoulder before catching myself and stumbling back.
Thevan turned and grabbed my hand so I wouldn’t fall. I squeezed his calloused fingers gratefully as he held me tight. He guided me back into the cover of the trees once I’d caught my balance. Then he gestured at Matanta’s cave, still holding my hand. “It’s . . . glowing.”
The fires of the setting sun were already extinguishing, making the green glow at the mouth of Matanta’s cave more pronounced.
The light wasn’t a surprise to me, but something felt off.
Incomplete. I couldn’t put my finger on it—nothing seemed out of place.
The long grasses of the mountainside bent in the breeze, and the fallen purple paarijaata blossoms decorated the ground.
But something wasn’t right.
Then I realized what it was: The adaiman were missing. None of the little birds were nesting in the grass or chirping near the cave’s entrance. In fact, for the first time, none of my friends had greeted me on my journey up the mountain.
Thevan didn’t need to know that, though.
“It’s always glowing.” I shrugged. There was a lot about Matanta’s cave that Thevan didn’t need to know. “Whenever he is there, at least.”
“There’s danger here.” Thevan looked from the cave to me with pursed lips; then he nodded to himself and unsheathed his sword. “I can’t explain it, but it’s in the air. I understand you think this is necessary, but at least let me go with you.”
“Absolutely not.” I pulled him back. “I may not know much about asking a question, but I am quite certain that you coming along will get both of us killed. Especially if you keep brandishing your blade. Put it away and wait until I’m done.
If I’m not back by sunrise, go to the fort and protect the rajkumari.
If I’m not back in seven days, declare her the rani of Ullal. ”
My general crossed his arms and placed himself between me and the cave’s entrance.
I mirrored his body language and stood tall. “Remember your oath to Ullal—to my daughter. You will not fail us now.”
He glared at me, but eventually he dropped his arms to his sides and nodded his acceptance. “I’ll wait under the trees with the purple flowers.”
Thevan’s eyes searched mine for reassurance.
“I’ll find you there.” I turned away before he could see my apprehension.
The green glow of the cave felt cold, as if the light were trying to push me away, but I stepped into the opening anyway.
I gasped.
Matanta was there, standing tall, with his vibrating wings extended to either side, filling the chamber with a pulsing light.
I’d hoped that my memories of his size were exaggerated—that they were the warped recollections of a child—but a shiver ran down my spine as I realized Matanta was even larger than I remembered.
I clenched my fists at my sides and refused to cower.
This was exactly what had happened the first time I had met him, and I didn’t run then.
I refused to be made a coward by my five-year-old self, so I stood perfectly straight and stared up at his massive jaws, even though the heat from his breath pricked my face.
“Good evening, Matanta.” My voice was higher than I wanted, but at least it did not waver.
“You have grown, little one.” His voice boomed through the cave, growing in its echoing chamber. “And you have finally come with a question.”
“Yes.” There was no point in pretending otherwise. My sweat made my fists feel slick.
“Hm.” He tipped his head down and studied me through his big yellow eyes. Each one was bigger than my hands, and they were streaked with threads of gold. “You do not pray to the Spirits, yet you have come with a question for them.”
“I do not pray because I imagine the Spirits have many things to do other than listen to me.” I paused before finally admitting what I had avoided saying to anyone else. “I have come here with a question because I don’t know what else to do.”
Matanta looked straight again, keeping his face impassive. “It is as it always was.”
“Please.” I stepped closer again, reaching out a hand but then pulling it back. At this moment, we were not friends. He was the guardian of the Spirits, and I was here to disturb them. “Let me ask a question.”
“I cannot stop you.” The muscles in his shoulders stiffened, and his wings stopped vibrating. He looked down at me again, making sure to find my eyes. “But I must treat you no differently than anyone else. Your fate will be in the hands of the Spirits, and they owe me no favors.”
He lowered his wings and stepped aside. For the first time, I peered farther into the cave.
I stumbled back at the sight of a pile of bones that covered the entirety of the back wall.
Some were yellowed and desiccated by the tides of time, and some still had dried pieces of flesh clinging to them.
The bones were jumbled together in a tangled mess—arms crossing over toes, skulls balancing on rib cages—but they were unified by a defining feature: Every single one was covered with deep slashes.
“You must choose your question carefully, little one.” His voice was rougher than usual, and the gold in his eyes was almost luminous.
“I understand.” Just speaking the words took all my courage as I stood in front of a paw so big that one flick of its claws would steal my last breath. “But I must ask.”
With a heavy sigh, Matanta stood straight again. He spread his wings high and wide, vibrating them as he had done before, so the light in the cave pulsed. “I will hear your question, and the Spirits will judge its worth.”
Matanta’s booming voice was so loud it made my ears hurt, but I stood firm.
I cleared my throat. “How do I best serve my people?”
A thunderclap shook the cave, sending pebbles tumbling down the walls as Matanta’s color changed from deep green to the color of unripe limes.
His wings became a blur, and his fur rippled.
Matanta’s ears were cocked open, and he lifted off the ground, going higher and higher until I could crawl under him if I wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
Especially when he began to rotate. His body hung in the air with his head stretched up, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he spun slowly.
Dagger-length claws uncurled from his paws, and I tried to scramble away, but the air wrapped around me, holding me tight and refusing to let me do anything but stare as Matanta turned above me.
I tried to move my arm, my hand, even just my pinky, but I couldn’t.
I was bound by an invisible force, and I had to accept my fate, whatever the Spirits decided it should be.
After he completed one full rotation, Matanta lowered to the ground.
He pulled in his wings and tucked them on his sides as he lay down with closed eyes. His glow was far duller than normal, but at least he wasn’t floating anymore.
“Matanta,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to—”
A flurry of wings interrupted me, and I was surrounded by a thick column of adaiman, swirling around me and chattering furiously.
“You’re back!” My heart felt lighter, and they comforted me with their low coos.
One by one, they glided to Matanta. Each of them dropped a feather onto his back, which disappeared into his fur.
With every feather, Matanta’s color became more normal, and by the time the last feather was given, he stared at me with wide-open eyes.
The adaiman settled on the ground around us, staying silent as they watched.
“It seems I will have to go hungry,” Matanta grumbled.
At the sound of his voice, a pair of adaiman chirped and launched out of the cave. Their green bodies quickly became flecks and then disappeared into the sky. Matanta and I watched them go, and then I turned back to the green lion.
I reached a hand toward him. “Sorry about that.”
He extended a paw so it was closer to my fingertips. “You are not.”
“Neither are you.” I scratched his paw affectionately. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Do not thank me. It was your question that was worthy,” he said. His nose twitched, making his whiskers shake. “You have changed, little one.”
“Life gave me no choice in the matter.” I tried not to sound bitter.
“You have had plenty of choices,” Matanta said. “And you chose well, except when you ignored my warning after you got married.”
“Your warning?” I withdrew my hand and sat back on my feet. “What do you mean? The Spirits wanted me to get married! They’re the ones that gave me the turmeric.”
The adaiman cheeped indignantly, cocking their heads toward the entrance and pointing with their beaks as they complained.
Matanta said nothing, but he looked out of the cave, so I did the same.
Soon, two birds appeared in the sky, each of them carrying something.
In the dim green light, it was impossible for me to see what they brought until they laid it in front of me.
A turmeric root and an arrow.
“You have your answer,” Matanta rumbled.
I picked up the objects and stared. The turmeric was knobby and rough in my left hand, and the arrow’s smooth shaft glided in my right, but both felt warm to the touch.
Matanta waited patiently as I stared from the root to the weapon, but the adaiman were not so forbearing. They gathered around my hands, chirping eagerly as they looked up at me. I ignored them, keeping one hand on each knee until they started pecking my knuckles.
“Ow!” I pulled my hands together so they were side by side.
The adaiman puffed their feathers and cooed with satisfaction.
“A far better union,” Matanta rumbled.
My breath caught. The turmeric wasn’t supposed to remind me of how I met the raja—it hadn’t been a sign for me to marry him.
The turmeric was a tool to help fight the Porcugi.
When Nallini had healed Parushi, the poison from the Porcugi had congealed into clumps after she applied her paste.
Perhaps it would do the same thing if it was delivered inside the monsters.
After destroying their scales with flame, we could poison the Porcugi with turmeric.
“If we put it on the arrow,” I finished aloud. I wasn’t sure when I’d started to speak.
Matanta looked at me. “You are the sun, little one. When you shine, others should burn.”
An adaiman flew in from the cave’s opening and chirped frantically in Matanta’s ear.
He cocked his head toward it and listened without interruption, but his brows lifted as the little bird spoke.
He nodded at the adaiman when it finished.
“You must go. The Spirits have given you many gifts today. Make sure you use them well.”
“Thank you, Matanta,” I said as we walked to the mouth of the cave. “I will be back to visit soon. Perhaps with my daughter.”
“Best hope I’m not hungry,” he growled.
“I’ll try to remember that.” Moonlight flooded my face as I stepped outside and Matanta stayed behind. Before leaving, I bowed to Matanta, bending so deeply that the tips of my curls brushed the grassy mountainside.
Matanta cocked his head, then barely inclined it toward me—just enough to be noticed but so little I questioned what I saw—before he walked back into the cave.
“Only look back long enough to correct your path forward, little one.”