Chapter 41 Choices
Chandra lay on the floor of the temple by the lake and watched the patches of velvety night sky through the canopy of leaves that stretched above. A crescent moon was riding the skies somewhere out of sight behind the trees.
A simple cloth spread on the stone floor served as her bed tonight, since they had lost most of their possessions.
The temple was tiny and open to the elements with simple square pillars supporting the ceiling. Except one wall, where the goddess statue was placed in a small alcove.
A cool breeze came in from the serene lake, trying to dry the tears on her cheek. She had given up on brushing them away. She sniffed instead, hoping her crying jag wouldn’t wake him.
Veer slept only a few feet away, his back to her. A familiar anger rose. The autocratic man had refused to give her privacy so she could cry in peace. He hadn’t left for long before returning.
“This is a strange forest, Chandra,” he had said, clearing the ground of leaves, preparing to lie down. “You’re going to sleep right beside me, where I can keep an eye. I don’t want to wake up and discover that you have been spirited away by some strange yaksha.”
His argument had merit, and she hated him for it. But was it too much to ask to be allowed to lick her wounds in private?
The carvings on the pillar she tried to sleep against dug into her back, and she shifted her position, idly watching the quicksilver movements of the fireflies as they flitted about in the air. Her mind was far away.
He hadn’t believed her!
The secret she had been carrying for seven years—for which she defied everyone, broke her vows and lied to him, and endured the pain and humiliation of her punishment—none of it meant anything to him.
By not believing her, he had cheapened her actions.
To her horror, instead of going away, the tears increased, and she was shocked to hear a loud gasp escape her mouth. She put a hand to muffle the sound.
With dismay, she realized he was moving. She prayed he was only adjusting his position. He had to be just as uncomfortable sleeping on the hard ground.
He had offered the only cloth they had to her, not that it was much comfort. She fisted it in her hand, hoping the sobs would go away.
She told herself it was the relief from carrying the burden of truth all these years.
And it was. But not entirely.
She could finally reveal to her parents what had happened that night.
Chandra knew they would be angry at her, but they would forgive her.
Eventually. And she would have her family back, talking to her again.
Her mother could happily live with her father again.
This was what was important to her. Not the opinion of a prince she had married under duress and wasn’t even sure what she felt for him.
He was a hard man; she knew that when she had resigned herself to their marriage. But she had seen some hints during their brief encounter before marriage that it wasn’t all he was. It had given her hope that maybe they could find some common ground.
He radiated violence and danger, had only a passing acquaintance with conscience, and continued to care very little about the customs and feelings of people. Chandra recalled how he broke the wall of murals in the caves of Amaravathi and had no qualms about stealing a statue from a holy city.
And yet…he was a commander of his men, and he cared for the people under him, often putting his own life at risk before them. He was willing to put aside his personal grievances to work with her, a person he hated, agreeing to her conditions because his kingdom needed her help.
Granted, he didn’t have much of a choice, but he could have easily chosen not to honor the word given to a woman, like many men of his position often did.
Despite not believing her story about the past, he promised Kalpana’s and Sarun’s safety and was furious that she thought him heartless enough to punish a mother and her son.
The things he did at the temple city—fighting against the intruders, opening the temple to everyone, and organizing help to arrive from a nearby fort—all those actions were not of a man who cared for nothing and no one.
Why did he have to challenge her preconceived notions of him? Why did he have to make it so hard for her to just hate him?
If she did, none of this would be affecting her as much.
For, no matter how many times she told herself, his good opinion had come to mean something to her.
Well, she had told him the truth and he could do whatever he wanted with it.
“It is so very cold,” came Veer’s sleep-slurred voice.
Please, don’t turn this way, prayed an alarmed Chandra. But her prayers were in vain.
He turned, reached out a long arm to catch her shoulder, then pulled her up to him, so he sat leaning against the pillar, with her tucked against him.
The beat of his strong heart was a comforting rhythm under her ear. Belatedly, she remembered to resist him.
“Calm down, Princess, I’m not going to molest you,” he mumbled. “Do you think you can relax your principles enough to allow me to get some warmth?”
Chandra was too shocked to reply. It was indeed deliciously warm in his embrace. His pine scent rose to wrap around her as comfortable as a blanket.
A large hand crept to tuck her head more securely against his broad chest and remained on her back, rubbing in soothing circles, the way a mother would tend to a crying child. There was nothing sexual in his touch.
Fresh tears leaked from her eyes.
Until he pulled her to him, she hadn’t realized how much she needed a hug.
He was lying about the cold. He came from a mountainous area. He was used to the cold, and it hadn’t been chill enough to be uncomfortable.
How long had he been awake, listening to her?
She tilted her head, afraid to look up and find him staring at her shame. So she glanced at the stubble on his strong jaw. A pulse flicked strongly at his throat, in time with the thrum of his heart.
She had almost killed him today. Would have succeeded, too, if she had been unhesitant.
He had the excuse of not being in his sane mind. She didn’t even have that.
Tears burned behind her eyelids again.
He should hate her guts on principle alone.
And yet, she couldn’t pretend anymore that he hadn’t heard her and chose to provide comfort in the only way he knew how.
Why did he have to make it so hard to hate him?
It was her last thought before her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Veer couldn’t sleep that night. Chandra’s revelation played over and over in his mind, digging like a sharp claw at his memories and impressions of that night. After spending seven years trying to erase his memories, he was suddenly eager to recall and find out as much as he could.
If what Chandra was saying was true, then he had wronged her terribly. Virat was his responsibility. While he didn’t want to make the same mistake as before and jump to conclusions without proof, he was honest enough to acknowledge that it was more than a possibility.
Virat could be impulsive and blind. In his pursuit of magic, he often didn’t consider the consequences of his actions. He was one of his oldest friends. When Veer was sent to be raised in Vivismati, his uncle had found him to befriend Veer and be his childhood companion.
Virat came from an obscure desert tribe and was a godsend to a lonely kid with magic bursting out of him.
As a magic user himself, Virat was able to control Veer’s wild outbursts of magic and helped him fine-tune its use.
They had been together for most of his life learning, fighting, and practicing their talents together.
Virat’s specific skill of controlling others was a bit daunting to others, but they had devised a way—a pair of entangled bracelets—that alerted one when the other was using their powers.
After Virat died, Veer thought the magical entanglement had broken, but now he wondered how long it had been since it stopped working.
They had been growing apart toward the end, each immersed in their own interests and responsibilities, and Veer admitted he had been lax in keeping an eye on his friend.
For this is the one thing he believed without a doubt: Virat had used his powers on the princess. She knew too much about how it worked, to not have experienced it.
Only a small kernel of consideration for his dead friend kept him from believing her account completely. He owed it to him and everyone else involved to be impartial before he reached a conclusion regarding the past.
Chandra had quieted down and seemed to be sleeping. It had twisted him inside to hear her trying to be quiet about her sobs. He never intended to hurt her.
How could everything have gone so wrong? He had believed he was doing the right thing when he chose her over the others.
How would it have gone had he not overheard her conversation with her maid all those years ago? A conversation that changed his mind regarding his choice of bride. A conversation that made him hope he had found someone who would be willing to accept him for who he was, warts and all.
* * *
Seven years ago… a few days before Veer was to present his choice to King Chandraketu
The Narmada was a normally calm river that flowed through the fertile lands of Amaravathi, giving its life-giving sustenance to many of the villages that dotted its banks.
However, where it emerged from the Dandakaranya, it was often swift and impulsive, raging between rocks and crashing over waterfalls.
It also dashed across the only road that cut through the Dandakaranya in intermittent floods. The road that connected the northern kingdoms to the south was important for the transport of essential supplies and many times was the only safe route for business.
During the war, Rajgarh was dependent on this road to get part of their war rations. While Amaravathi relied on this road to get assistance from the neighboring kingdom of Hoysyala.