The Library of Fates(11)

I continued to follow the arrows. By morning, the groundskeepers and the breeze would have swept them away, but right now, they were the kind of gift that was precious precisely because it was ephemeral. Arjun had always specialized in such bequests—the kinds that required thought and effort but ultimately existed only for a moment before they were gone, leaving behind a memory slipped into one’s heart like a parchment note left in a doorframe.

I followed the arrows into the cut grass that tickled my bare feet. It was about fifty more paces till the edge of the grove, and once there, I could see a light glowing in the center of the thicket.

All of a sudden, I felt nervous. My stomach fluttered as I caught a glimpse of him seated on a mirrored cushion amid a nest of patchwork blankets and throw pillows, waiting for me. He was surrounded by lights—at least fifty diyas and a handful of lanterns. I wondered when and how he had found the time to set all this up.

I sat down beside him, feeling too shy to speak. Luckily, he was quiet too. It was as though we both understood that something had shifted between us. Perhaps it was the knowledge of my departure bringing things to a head, and yet, despite the jumble of thoughts and emotions churning within me, I still wasn’t sure how to act or what to say.

I opened my mouth, and as I did, I knew that I was somehow squandering this moment, killing the magic in the air.

“I can’t believe my mother’s still alive,” I said. “I can’t believe Papa never bothered to tell me. I feel like my mind has been caught in some sort of storm, like I’m in the eye of it, and if I don’t find her, or at least find out what happened to her, I know the storm will ravage me.”

“You’ll find out. I’ll help you,” he said, laying a hand on my arm. His fingers felt electric as they slipped between mine, taking my breath away. I tried to appear nonchalant to hide my fear, my excitement, the whirl of a million feelings roiling within me.

“I want this to be over,” I said to him.

“If only so we don’t have to dress like characters from a Persian fairy tale,” he whispered, making me laugh out loud.

“Shhhh . . .” Arjun squeezed next to me, his arm against mine. “We don’t want to wake anyone.”

“My father says Sikander’s trying to create a wedge between me and him.”

Arjun nodded, his eyes on me the entire time. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb trailing my neck, leaving behind a line of goose bumps. “I think he’s right.” He paused for a moment before he added, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he said.

“Anything?” I teased. I wanted to ease this tension between us. It felt so dangerous that it couldn’t possibly be good for either of us, like attempting to light a fire stick near a field of hay. But then again, it was Arjun, whom I had known my entire life. My best friend.

“Anything,” Arjun insisted.

There had never been any space between us, any hierarchy. That’s how my father and Bandaka were too. Bandaka had grown up within the compound of the palace, and his father had been my grandfather’s advisor. My father and Bandaka had played together as children.

It was just the same, I told myself. We were just like them.

Until Arjun’s fingers slipped into my hair. Gently, he tilted my face back until my eyes met his. The only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat, startlingly loud in my ears.

There was no decision, no reflection, only impulse. An impulse so clear that it was as though it had been there all along, all these years, waiting for us to uncover it.

And we did.

I lifted my face to meet his, noticing everything about him as if for the first time, the curve of his lips, the plane of his jaw, his warm, dark eyes. His hands clasped my thigh, pulling me closer and closer until our bodies were entwined.

And when we kissed, I was stunned by how soft and yielding his lips were, eventually giving way to a ferocious urgency, a desperate need to hold me and never let me go.





Five



“EVERY KINGDOM has its traditions,” Sikander announced.

It was morning, and we were convened in the gallery once again—Papa, Sikander, their advisors, and of course Arjun and me. I wondered if anyone could tell from the dark circles under my eyes that I had been up all night with Arjun in the mango grove, talking, laughing, kissing, until the first rays of dawn chased us back into the palace to get dressed for another day.

A day that I could face only because I knew I would see Arjun again. And yet I also lamented this fact. How many days did we have together, now that we had discovered this magnetic alchemy between us?

He had held me tightly against him outside my chamber, his face meeting mine.

“It’s not over,” he whispered to me. “This is just the beginning.”

“But how?”

“We’ll figure it out. You and I . . . we can do anything together,” he said, kissing me one last time before returning to his quarters.

But what we could do was still up in the air, unclear, at least to me.

I turned back to Sikander, who was loudly pontificating to us.

“In Bactria, negotiations begin after everyone observes a circus show. In Anatolia, there is the sacrifice of an animal. Considering the union that will bring our two kingdoms together,” he said, nodding at me with a patronizing smile that showed off the mouthful of gold, “I’d like to bring a Macedonian tradition to Shalingar.”