One

KANELLA WAS STARTING to hate red fabric. In fact, if she never saw another dress sample, it would be too soon. Unfortunately for her, her future mother-in-law, Chaha, still had a stack at least ten samples deep.

Maybe she could speed this along graciously. Without insulting her future family. And there was one that stood out to her.

She pulled one of the earlier samples, a vivid red with a border of gold lotus flowers, out of the stack they’d already viewed, then smiled at Chaha. “The flowers are pretty.”

“I don’t know, Kanella,” Chaha said. “I think this pattern would be better.”

She slid aside the lotus fabric Kanella liked and pushed her own choice toward Kanella. They were almost the same, but this fabric was coarser, and the gold embroidery was a generic pattern.

Kanella eyed the pattern, one that was far too similar to the one she wore only five years ago—to her mother’s funeral. Sure, it had been a different fabric, nowhere near the joyful red of a wedding dress. But it still drew up bitter memories she’d rather not revisit on such a happy occasion.

But how could she say that now? Chaha had been nothing but generous, from giving her son her blessing to marry Kanella to helping with all the preparations. Not to mention paying the bills that neither she nor her father could afford.

Kanella pressed her lips together, carefully avoiding the other woman’s gaze. If only Ditya, her neighbor and surrogate mother, were here to help.

But she wasn’t. Ditya was helping her father right now. Kanella was on her own.

“Don’t you agree?” Chaha said again.

Kanella nodded, afraid to open her mouth. “It’s a pretty pattern.” And it was. It just wasn’t a pattern she wanted. Kanella stood. “Can I get you some more tea?”

Chaha just mumbled something as she swept the samples together and took a few notes. Kanella took her response as a yes. It was about time to make some more tea for her father, anyway. She bustled about the small kitchen, preparing fresh cups for Chaha and a separate tray for Ditya and her father. They used to have a bigger space—and servants to prepare the tea—but she’d never complain. Not after everything her father had been through.

She quickly ladled water from the barrel into a cracked clay pot, one that had already brewed so much tea that she didn’t need to add more; it was so steeped into the clay that all it needed was water and a little heat. She set it on the stove, then flicked her steel and flint together to light the fire underneath. She’d need it for dinner anyway, after Chaha left, so it wasn’t really a waste of firewood.

“I’ll be right back,” Kanella said to her mother-in-law, but the woman didn’t respond. She was too absorbed in the wedding planning. As she picked up the tray, Kanella took a relieved breath. If Chaha was busy, there were no expectations for conversation and opinions.

Kanella flitted back to the den where Papa lounged on the floor pillows, Ditya nearby going over Papa’s books. Kanella grabbed another blanket from the pile in the corner, snapping it open with practiced care and tucking it around him. A frown flashed across her face—had he lost even more weight?—before putting her smile back in place so he couldn’t see her worry. But her worry gnawed at her, piling on top of the wedding stress until her stomach ached and her heart fluttered.

“Batsal should be here soon,” she said, keeping up a steady stream of cheery conversation. “Are you sure you’re up for having him for dinner?”

Papa waved a hand. “You worry too much, my dear. I’ll be fine. You just worry about pleasing your future husband and his family.”

Warmth blossomed in Kanella’s chest. Her future husband. She was about to be a married woman. It was almost impossible to believe.

Even with Chaha’s overbearing planning.

Cheeks flaming, both at the thought of Batsal’s dimples and how ungrateful her thoughts toward Chaha sounded, she made her way back to the kitchen and started pulling vegetables out of the cooler. It wouldn’t be much, but Batsal wouldn’t be upset. He may have never been through the losses Kanella’s family had, but she’d still never met a more compassionate, kind individual in her life. If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t be getting married at all. She never could have petitioned his family for an engagement, her tongue thick and brain foggy at the mere idea of asking for something so big from near strangers, and her father didn’t exactly hold much sway these days.

Kanella did her best to keep Chaha happy for the next hour, then began to prepare dinner as her mother-in-law departed for the evening. She would be back in the morning, and in one week, their families would be joined in marriage. Even with the prospect of more decisions Chaha would make on behalf of Kanella, Kanella couldn’t suppress her smile as she daydreamed about her future.

A knock sounded on the door, and Kanella’s stomach flipped and fluttered, as if filled with a swarm of butterflies. Giving the pot of vegetable stew one more stir, she practically floated across the house to the door and threw it open with a beaming smile. Batsal beamed right back at her, and she ushered him in, her cheeks flushed.

He leaned toward her and spoke softly. “I finished your kusha ring today.”

Happy tears sprang to her eyes at the thought. What would the grass ring look like? She’d finished his last night, and they would exchange them before the ceremony started. The grass rings would last a long time, hopefully like their marriage, and would purify them for their commitments to each other.

She’d dreamed of that ring on her finger since she was a little girl, ever since her mother had shown her the rings she and Papa had exchanged at their own wedding, as well as the pote necklace her mother had worn every day of her life.

What would Kanella’s pote necklace look like?

Papa rose to his feet, pushing the blankets and pillows aside and disrupting Kanella’s thoughts. “Batsal, my boy!”

The men shook hands, and Batsal turned that sunny smile on her father. “Esteemed Father, thank you for having me for dinner.”

Papa grunted and gestured to Kanella. “Thank my daughter. Your intended.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Batsal laughed.

It was almost too perfect a moment, one of their last meals together before the wedding. And in almost no time at all, Kanella would move in with Batsal and his family, and, because of Batsal’s advocacy and his family’s generosity, Papa would be moving as well.

Her father suddenly coughed, breaking the jovial mood in the house, and Kanella lowered her brows as she studied him. His cough rattled like it had for the last week, another symptom of the sickness that had plagued him for years, but his breathing seemed strong, and he had good color. She bit her tongue to keep from telling him to go to bed, to go rest. He was a grown man. He didn’t need her to mother him.

He was fine. Everything was fine.

***

KANELLA COULDN’T SLEEP a wink after Batsal left, her stomach aflutter with butterflies and her thoughts filled with dreams of their future. In only a few more mornings, she would wake. She would prepare herself. She would join Batsal for the first time as his wife.

Her smile was so bright, it practically lit the dark room.

At least, it was... until her father’s loud, painful cough cut the silence of the night. Kanella rolled over, eyes wide open. And just like that, her dreams dimmed like the fire in the hearth after a long day.

She took a deep breath. Her father had been sick for years, ever since the business collapsed, but lately it was as if his sickness knew they were close to being happy, cared for, safe. As if it were alive and determined to stand between them and a second chance.

They just had to make it a few more days. Soon, their lives would be different. Happy. Whole.

She rolled over again and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to force herself to banish her fears, nerves, and excitement so she could finally get a little sleep. Eventually, what seemed like several hours later, she succeeded.

The next thing she knew, the sun was rising... and someone was crying.

Kanella’s eyes snapped open as she listened in the otherwise still morning. She swung her legs over the side of her cot, staring into the darkness as she ventured from her room, her pulse quick and her breath quicker. Her hands already trembled in fear where they clutched at her nightdress.

The sound was coming from her father’s room, but it did not sound like him. Who was crying? And, more importantly, why?

“Papa?” she said as she approached the door. “Are you all right?”

She settled her hand on the side of the door and leaned in, searching the dim space for her father. His form was still lying on the bed near the wall, but another figure hunched next to him.

“Ditya?” Kanella said. She stepped farther into the room, her eyes glued to her neighbor’s back. “What are you doing here so early?”

Ditya came to help out most mornings, but she wasn’t supposed to be there for another hour. The sun hadn’t even risen above the high, jagged peaks of the mountains yet, the horizon barely even blush with dawn.

Ditya turned a tear-streaked face toward Kanella, her fearful eyes gleaming in Kanella’s flickering candlelight. The shadows danced in the corners of the room, threatening to envelop them all.

“Oh, Kanella!” Ditya cried. “I had a dream. A feeling. I thought I should check on you and your father. But he’s... Oh, please, come here!”

Kanella’s heart nearly stopped at Ditya’s pleas. Had she ever seen her neighbor-mother cry?

Holding the candle high, she crossed the dirt floor to stand next to Ditya, following the older woman’s gaze to her father’s face, his closed eyes.

His skin was sallow, off-color even in the candle’s light, and a sheen of sweat covered him, soaking the sheets beneath him. Each breath rattled with the strain of breathing, and his eyes flicked beneath closed eyelids, the skin around his eyes sunken and purple.

His condition had turned while she slept. While she dreamed of their bright future.

She covered her mouth with her free hand, tears burning her eyes. “What do we do?”

Ditya’s hands fluttered over her, turning her and pushing her toward the door. “Go! Hurry! Fetch the doctor and bring him here. There’s no time to waste!”

Kanella fled the room, pausing only long enough to light the lantern, blow out the candle, pull a cloak over her nightdress, and shove her feet into her shoes before she ran from the house. She flew down the path faster than she’d ever run before. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood roaring in her ears as the wind tore at her every step. Ditya’s worried face floated in her mind, spurring her on faster, longer than she thought she could sprint. Tears dried on her cheeks as she ran, her mind moving from terrified to numb. All she could focus on was getting to the doctor.

She slid around the bend in the path, approaching the trail that led through the orchard and down the slope to town, the same path she’d taken every week of her life to buy or sell at the market.

It took on a new sense of urgency now.

She barely spared a glance for the sign pointing toward town or even the tree where she and Batsal had first met, though her mind circled with thoughts of him now, even as she feared for her father.

What would become of her marriage if her father died? What would she do without him?

She flew past the last tree in the orchard, sliding onto the main road into town. Only a few people were out this early, some pumping from the wells, others feeding animals outside their houses. The streetlights were still on, but the sun was just below the mountains now, painting the sky bloody. It broke over the lowest peaks in a burst of scarlet just as she pushed through the gate to the doctor’s house.

Kanella pounded on the door, her heart hammering along with her fist. For a moment, the house in front of her stayed silent, but then lights clicked on one after another—the doctor had a lot more money than Kanella’s family did—and footsteps approached the door.

A short, thin man appeared in front of her. “Kanella? What’s wrong?” Before she could respond, he was already taking in her disheveled appearance, the breathlessness, the sweat and flyaway hair. He grabbed a small bag by the door. “Never mind. You can tell me on the way.”

She nodded, almost smiling at his warm gray eyes. “Thank you.”

They wasted no time hurrying back to Kanella’s on the bottom slope of the mountain. Ditya waited in the bedroom, wringing her hands in between wiping Father’s forehead with a cool cloth.

The man set to work.

***

THE DOCTOR SAT BACK on his heels, his face grim.

Kanella’s stomach clenched tighter at the hopelessness in his eyes.

“What is it?” Ditya said. Bless her for asking what Kanella couldn’t yet again. Why could she never speak what was on her mind?

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his silver hair, his eyes still on Papa’s face. “His condition has progressed.”

Obviously.

“I’m afraid there’s not much else I can do for him,” the doctor finished.

Kanella pressed a hand over her mouth, tears burning her eyes again. Not much he could do? But she couldn’t lose her father, not after she’d lost everyone else in the family! No one had bothered to stick around, to stay by his side after the family business collapsed. They’d all abandoned the two of them as fast as the last of their gold.

“What do we do, then?” Ditya said, her voice thick. “How... how much longer?”

The doctor shook his head. “He’ll stay stable for now, at least a few days. But there will be a time when it turns, and it will turn quickly. Then, there will only be hours left. The best we can do is make him comfortable.”

Kanella forced the words past her frozen lips. “That’s it? There’s nothing else? No hope?”

The doctor tore his eyes away from Father. The shadows beneath them were deep, dark, as dark as the shadows in his eyes themselves. He opened his mouth as if about to say something, then closed it, thinking better of it. Instead, he shook his head slowly, sadly.

Kanella couldn’t suppress a sob. “Nothing? You’re sure?” He’d been about to tell her something. She knew it.

Just then, a clattering sounded from the front of the house, followed by a loud voice. “Kanella, dear! I’m here!”

Oh, not now!

Kanella glanced out the window. The sun was just above the mountains now, the day truly beginning. And Chaha was here for more wedding work.

She turned toward the door, her eyes wide and helpless. How could she face that woman? How could she allow her to see this, one of the worst moments of Kanella’s life?

“Let me handle this, dear,” Ditya said, patting Kanella on the arm. All she could do was nod in response.

Ditya disappeared through the door, and the low murmur of conversation hummed through the house. Kanella sank into the nearest chair and covered her face with her hands, a fist clenched around her chest. She couldn’t suppress the sobs anymore.

A gentle touch on her shoulder startled her, and she jumped, swallowing a cry. The doctor stood before her, his face tormented.

He pulled his hand back quickly, as if shocked with himself for disturbing her grief. “Kanella, there’s one thing...” He looked away, running a hand through his hair again. “But it might not even exist.”

“What?” she said, leaping to her feet. “What is it?”

Anything, please. Give her anything she could do to fix this!

He looked back at her. “There is a legend among the healers. A flower, the sunrise lotus. It’s supposed to be able to fix all sorts of ailments, cure any disease.”

She almost reached for him, ready to shake more out of him. “But?”

“It may not exist,” he repeated, stressing the words again. “But if it did, it’s in these mountains. In a valley where the snow can’t touch, in a garden full of wonders. A place where it is always safe, always bright, always warm. Temple Choden. But there is only one, can only ever be one at a time.”

There it was: the smallest thread of hope for her to cling to. But a single flower in all the mountains? How was she supposed to find something so small? But what other choice was there?

“Then I have to go,” she said, her voice soft. Tears spilled over, dripping down her cheeks in a steady stream. “I have to try.”

“Kanella!” came a shocked voice from the door. She turned to see her mother-in-law. “What are you saying?”

Kanella swiped at her tears and stood up straighter. “I have to go. To find this flower.”

But her mother-in-law was shaking her head. “To the mountains? Kanella, there are monsters there. You can’t. And it’s almost your wedding day. We agreed to this, but if you leave... Kanella, consider your future! How can I permit this to move forward if you would abandon your new family so quickly?”

Her future? What would her future be if she didn’t try to save her father? If she didn’t do everything in her power?

She blinked at Chaha, biting back her words, shrinking away. Her mind fogged over like always, and she forgot every word she wanted to say. Papa needed her to be strong, but how could she say that to Chaha? Instead, all she could do was nod and mumble something about tea as she fled the room.

As soon as she’d escaped Chaha’s intense gaze, her mind cleared again. She thought of Batsal, of his kindness. Of the way he tucked her hair behind her ears and kissed her lightly on the top of her head.

But more than anything, of his stubborn nature and how fiercely she knew he would fight for her.

She had to be strong, like him. For her father. At least for now. She could smooth things over later, right? Let her mother-in-law choose everything she wanted for the wedding.

If the wedding still happened.

She would go, now, before anyone noticed. Before she had to stand up to Chaha again.

She slipped back into her room and changed as quickly as she could, choosing a sturdy dress that she usually wore for chores, then shoved a few supplies into a bag.

Then she was out the door, fleeing up the mountain. She could only imagine Chaha’s fury when they discovered her gone. But she couldn’t let it stop her.

Even if it cost her Batsal.