As her feet slammed against the underbrush, sending creepy-crawlers skittering away, Alia resisted the urge to turn back and ensure Arjun was okay.
She felt dirty, and it wasn't just because of the blood and dirt caked onto her face, or the scratches lining her arms, or even the muddied hem of her salwar. In her short time on this earth, Alia had thieved, stolen, and fought with no qualms. The quiet voice of her conscience had never disdained her actions.
Until now.
She had poisoned a man who had saved her life. Yes, she had technically saved his first, but she did not believe in life debts. She believed in punching above your weight, in doing what was necessary to survive. Alia could not escape the knowledge that poisoning him, when he was injured and had nowhere to run, was heartless.
It was necessary. He would have captured you otherwise.
But she did not know that. If anything, he had been trying for a truce, for a resolution. She wondered what the Queen would have done. Would she have accepted his bargain?
Then again, did Alia even have the authority to accept his terms? Very few knew she was the Lost Princess. Hell, she was still awaiting some confirmation that she really was of the royal bloodline. All she could do was follow the Queen's orders, right?
Her skin prickled as the unfortunate realization dawned on her. The excuse was too familiar — the very one Kshat guards used to justify their actions. "I was just following orders," they would bemoan, pretending to feel remorse.
You can't change it now. Besides, he's still Yadavan. And the Crown Prince. And he was an ass! He deserved it.
The reminder of Arjun's lineage offered enough solace to let her more rational sensibilities take over. They had been in the trees for at least an hour. Maybe two, and she had caught no sight of Vikram or Nandini.
Oh Gods. The demon.
Violent images flashed through her mind, leaving her teeth chattering. She could picture Nandini's frail lifeless body too easily, an unrecognizable heap following the demon's attack. Vikram would die with his sword in hand, too proud to consider hiding in the trees.
Her pace quickened, the sword drumming against her hip with each leap. Panic tore through her body, and she recalled Rajiv's rickety home. One gust, and she would blow to pieces.
She tried to remain logical. There were no imprints in the earth. No signs of blood or claw scratches in the trunks. Fireflies still pulsed around her, not frightened away by a mythical creature.
Yet, despite all signs to the contrary, Alia was convinced her companions were dead.
And then she saw them trudging through the trees, and joy blossomed in her heart, shoving out all doubts and regrets about poisoning Arjun.
"Vikram! Nandini!" she yelled, capturing their attention. They looked up at her, and Alia quickly scanned for any injuries. But save for the Kshat's bloody lip, and Nandini's splotchy face, they were both fine.
The past few hours had been taxing and emotional, and so she left her fears by the wayside. She hurtled towards them, looping her arms around Nandini's shoulders, ignoring the way the scholar stiffened. "Thank Gods you're all right."
If either of them were surprised by her sudden display of affection, they made no mention of it. She felt Vikram rub a comforting hand on her back, taking care not to upset her bandaging. The reminder of Arjun's kindness, and her cruel repayment, jolted her back to reality, and she pulled away from the embrace.
"What happened?" she asked. "How did you get away?"
Vikram glanced at her face, and she suddenly felt quite self-conscious. She could not imagine what she looked like. The crusting blood commingling with the streaks of dirt, tracks in the mire from her tears. "I'm fine." She waved away his concerns. "Promise."
He wanted to argue, but other concerns lay on his mind. The Kshat scratched the back of his neck as his eyes flicked to Nandini. The ecstasy of reuniting had subsided, and Alia could now see the boiling tension between the pair. The scholar's arms were folded against her chest, her jaw clenched in simmering rage.
"As soon as you left, their soldier — Rahul — got distracted. He went to chase after the prince, and so I followed, keeping him off your path. Eventually, he got turned around in the trees and I was able to knock him unconscious. But Vidya," Vikram stumbled over her name, and Nandini seethed, her nostrils flaring, "stayed to talk to Nandini."
She could imagine how that conversation went. But the academic was still with them, which suggested Vidya's efforts had been for naught.
Still, panic bloomed in her chest. She had just rejected Arjun's truce and, quite literally, poisoned any chance at peace. Whether it was bold, reckless, or just plain dumb, Alia had staked everything on completing this ritual.
She waited for Nandini to say something, to divulge details about her conversation with her former lover. But the scholar said nothing, resigned to play the part of petulant toddler.
"Well?" Alia finally broke the silence, anxiety clawing at her throat. "How di—"
"We need to find another place to stay for the night," Nandini interrupted. Her light eyes flashed with ire, and she turned to Vikram, her voice saccharine. "I trust you returned my map safely?"
Oh no.
Her instincts taking over, Alia scrambled for an excuse — any excuse — to justify the theft. The whole idea was Vikram's, not hers! But she had agreed, and after the ordeal with Arjun, and her own conflicted feelings about it, the fight whooshed out of her.
Alia slumped her shoulders, her gaze trained on the ground out of shame. "We're sorry," she mumbled, not knowing what else to say.
Nandini scowled at her. The scholar's face contained none of its familiar warmth or kindness, and it hit like a punch to the gut. "Don't be," she hissed, reaching into her leather satchel and pulling out the rolled sheet of parchment. Her voice took on the clipped tones of business and formality. She felt an ocean away. "Now, we have a few hours until dawn, and we'll need our rest before the caves."
"We should sleep in the trees." The words tumbled out of her mouth as she envisioned the demon's midnight-black fur. It was still out there — she was sure of it, and Alia would not be able to rest knowing she lay like a helpless animal on the side of the road.
"Why?" One word, yet it burned as harsh as acid.
A visible shiver ran down her spine, and, for the briefest of moments, Nandini's face softened, her concern evident before the anger returned and chased it away.
It was strange. Where Alia came from, people did not give you second chances, and she did not blame them for it. Forgiveness was a luxury for the wealthy. For those in the slums, a mistake could prove fatal. Grudges were nursed not out of spite, but a need for survival.
Alia had never been forgiven, and she had certainly never extended that grace to others. When someone broke her trust, she expelled them from her life. It was a tenet of her own code. If someone can hurt you once, they can hurt you again. Don't give them that opportunity. It might have made for a lonely life, but friends did not matter if you were dead.
Alia had never wished more that she knew how to ask forgiveness.
"The Prince and I ran into a demon," she admitted. "Its fur was as black as night, and it had two elongated canines that could probably crush straight through human bone. And it had these eyes..."
Alia could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. When she had first encountered the creature, it wasn't belligerent. Not on the hunt or out for her blood. If anything, it had been... studying her. Gazing at her with gleaming pink eyes that felt familiar.
Until, at least, the moonlight glinted off Arjun's blade, and the demon charged. But the aggression felt unnatural to the animal — she refused to call it a tiger. Perhaps tigers looked different in Yadav.
None of it made any sense, and all she wanted to do was discuss it with their resident academic. A woman who had wriggled her way into Alia's life. Someone she would not mind calling a friend.
You're an embarrassment, truly.
"Anyway." Alia dispelled the thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. That was the only way to complete this quest with her life. Take everything minute-by-minute, day-by-day. If she thought too long and too hard, she would drown in the sea of unknowns. "It couldn't climb, but it's definitely still out there. Sleeping in the trees is safest."
Both looked like they wanted to ask a million questions, but, by the Gods' good graces, each bit their tongue. Perhaps they took pity on her, the exhaustion evident on Alia's face. The slope of her neck throbbed beneath Arjun's surprisingly adept bandaging, but she could see the pink spreading, staining the white cloth of his dhoti.
There was no doubt about it. Climbing the tree would reopen the wound. The sap holding her skin together was not strong enough to withstand the effort, but what other option did they have?
Vikram analyzed the trees around them. Sturdy, with wide bases and thick branches. If they tied their waists around the trunk, they would be safe from falling, and might catch a few winks of precious, precious slumber.
Nandini went up first, her feet slipping against the bark, her inexperience in finding nooks and crannies to support herself showing. She moved slowly, like water trickling down a gutter clogged with dead leaves and twigs. Still, she eventually made it, her face ashen following the ordeal.
Vikram climbed next. Weighed down with their canteens and satchels, his pace was agonizing as well. He settled onto a branch above Nandini's, pulling out a length of rope and getting to work on tying himself.
Alia grit her teeth, searching the depths of her soul for enough strength to make the climb. Hooking her arms around the trunk, hot tears slipped down her filthy face as the fragile binding pulled apart.
With a grunt, she hoisted herself up, her feet pinching into the trunk, her leather sandals finding imperceptible ridges to hold onto. Even in her injured state, she found it came easy, natural. As a young girl, she would climb trees often. The teachers at the orphanage hated it, decrying her behavior as unladylike. As if it mattered.
She honed the skill on the streets. The easiest way to flee the guards was often up, and the flat roofs of Toshalwar buildings made escape simple once you finally got up there.
Alia tried to put as little weight as possible on her shoulder. In the beginning, she used to put too much strain on her arm muscles, sending flashes of pain up her forearms and leaving her sore for days after. Quickly, she learned that adept climbers used their feet, not their hands, to pull themselves up. Trust your feet, she reminded herself, putting her weight on her arches and not her shoulders.
With a final press on her toes, she reached forward and fell onto the branch. A quick glance at her soaked bandage confirmed her suspicions. Though she had done her best, the wound had still opened. Inevitable, really.
Nandini sighed, gesturing to Vikram to hand over her satchel. Without a word, she fished through the bag, pulling out a small tin. One Alia knew carried her medical supplies.
"Thank y—"
"I don't want to hear it." Nandini threaded the needle, her fingers steady. The glowing fireflies and other fluorescent creatures provided enough light for the noblewoman.
With a delicate touch, she unwrapped the futile attempt at gauze, wrinkling her nose at the stench of blood. Alia felt light-headed, having lost far too much of it. She had been reckless with her exertion, but she did not see how else she could have survived.
You could have stayed in the tree with Arjun. You didn't have to poison him.
No, he would have killed you if you stayed.
She couldn't tell if she was lying to herself. The Yadav Prince was as likely to have murdered her as to have let her recover. Sure, he waxed poetic about the honor code and its virtues and its necessity to "keeping humanity in times of war," but how many soldiers had she seen abuse those very notions? He could twist his own words and justify his actions. Killing her would avoid any war at all, and, in the process, save countless lives.
Yes, he would have killed you.
Blurring specks dotted her vision, the walls of darkness closing in. She recalled the feel of Arjun's rough palms against her cheeks, keeping her tethered to reality. Little did he know it was his worried expression, those dark eyes wide with panic, that had kept her awake.
Like a serrated knife, guilt twisted her stomach. He had saved her. And she had betrayed their tenuous trust. The next time he saw her — and their meeting again was written in the stars, it seemed — he would return the favor.
"I'm so sorry," Alia breathed, an apology to everyone she had ever wronged. The orphanage girls. Arjun. Nandini. Hell, even Vishal. Of course he had ratted her out to the Kshat. She had abused his goodwill for years.
Death felt so close now. She could feel its icy grasp encircling her heart, plucking it from her ribcage. A blackened mass, she was sure.
"Stay with us, Alia," Nandini murmured; that sisterly warmth had returned. With a steady hand and slender fingers, the noblewoman wove the needle in and out of her skin, pulling the torn muscle taut.
Alia could see the needle prick her skin, and yet she felt nothing. Her body had gone numb to the pain. Her brain no longer able to comprehend the sensation.
She fought against the invading darkness, her breathing growing ragged and unsteady. Her head lolled as she struggled to prop her muscles up.
"Come on, Alia," Vikram urged from above them. Her head already tilted back, she gazed up at him. His beard had darkened and his hair, typically cut close to his head like all Kshat guards, was now long enough to fall in his worried eyes. He looked nothing like the man who had tormented her in Toshalwar.
She tried, she really did. But the incoming black was relentless, and her resolve crumbled like a lace doily under the harsh Mauryan sun.
And then she faded, and she supposed that if Death had finally come for her, she had at least earned it.