The Mosquito and the Lion

fifteen

When Alia had first left the orphanage, on the streets of Toshalwar at the ripe young age of 10, she had found refuge in a gang of sorts.

The gangs in Toshalwar were not well-organized. They did not have extensive territory or glittering casinos or boisterous taverns or even sumptuous brothels. Gangs was a misnomer. Really, they were groups of kids, struggling to survive and finding strength in numbers.

She had been with the Daakut for four years. With their instruction, she had learned how to pick any pocket and open any safe. She had learned the winding back alleys and narrow streets of the city, finding safety in its sprawling maze of dirt roads.

And Alia had even learned how to nurse a broken heart.

Karan Singhania. Even now, her heart fluttered when she pictured his heavy-set brows, mischievous brown eyes, and cocky smile. And Gods was he cocky! He had hit puberty before the other boys, towering over all of them. Lean from the hungry nights and strong from the frequent brawls, Karan had his pick of the ladies.

Alia should have known better than to get involved with the arrogant boy. But she was fourteen and discovering new feelings and sensations every day. Though her fear of change remained constant, Karan felt like a safe bet, and he was crafty, ensnaring her with pretty lies and false promises.

And then he dumped her, and Alia left the Daakut, one last lesson in hand.

She had often wondered what seeing Karan again, after all these years, would be like. Would her heart hammer in her chest, drowning out everything else? Or would they laugh? Joke about how dramatic they were in their youth and bury the hatchet?

As she looked at Nandini, her scholar's eyes wide, mouth fluttering open and shut as she struggled to believe what she was seeing, Alia realized it would be the former.

The woman at Arjun's side was beautiful, with generous curves, wide hips, and a round face. Alia guessed she had a smile that could stop the world from spinning on its axis, but the girl was forlorn at the moment. Though she appeared steady on the outside, Alia could see her digging her toes into her sandals, a subtle tic belying her frayed nerves.

She did not understand what the Yadavan's play was. And she did not fully understand how they had followed them here, but that was a question for later.

Nandini finally spoke.

"You– you're a Yadavan?" Betrayal flickered across her face.

VIkram adjusted his stance, shifting closer to Nandini. Good, she needs his protection more than I do.

"Is that all you want to ask?" Vidya barked out a harsh laugh, shaking her head, her brown curls dancing with the movement. "What are you doing here, Nandini? This isn't you."

Alia glanced at Arjun's face, trying to discern his endgame. Throwing Nandini off-balance wasn't a bad idea, but they could have slit their throats in their sleep. Revealing themselves like this, announcing their presence as if this were a battlefield, made little sense.

She tightened her grip on his sword. Alia hated feeling like this. She detested these guessing games. It was why she loved fighting. There was a simple ease in knowing exactly where you stood, even if it was at the other end of a blade.

"Don't." Nandini's voice wavered, her fingers trembling in front of her. "Don't pretend like you know me."

Alia glanced at the treeline, trying to plot out an escape. Perhaps they could run to the caves now. At the very least, they could lose them in the jungle.

A shiver ran down her spine as she contemplated traversing the mountainside in the night. If the day creatures had been scary, the ones who roamed the night were crafted by the devil himself. She would rather face a hundred armed Yadavans than the haunting animals of the Purti Mountains.