Happy New Year
Sunlight flooded the Red Room, thick and yellow as creamed butter, but Prem couldn’t enjoy any of it—a cloud of dust had exploded in her face when she pulled the curtains back. She quickly opened the window and stuck her head outside, trying to catch her breath while also suffering a coughing fit at the same time.
“Prem! What are you doing in here?” It was one of her sisters, but Prem couldn’t tell which one, not while teaching herself how to breathe again.
“Choking…half…to death!” Prem finally took a deep breath while looking over the Garden of a Hundred Pools before she pulling back inside. “Didn’t think the curtains would be so filthy.” Forcing one last cough and ignoring the lingering taste of dust, Prem turned to the doorway.
Preet sat in a wheelchair, being pushed by Pranay. The former was dressed in a thin house coat with a plaster cast on her right leg and fresh bandages from the tips of both sets of fingers up to the crown of her head.
“Wow.” Prem stood there, staring, blinking.
Preet scowled. “What, what is it?”
“I…don’t remember the last time I’ve ever seen you out of uniform.”
“Very funny.”
“Priya’s going to shout at you if she finds out you’re out of bed.”
“Well, wouldn’t it be such a disappointment if she never found out?“ The Seneschal twisted up her mouth and muttered under her breath.
Prem looked at Pranay next. “You’re enabling her.”
“No,” Pranay replied, “I’m delivering her. There’s a difference.”
Prem furrowed her brows, confused.
Preet scowled, gave a loud sniff as she shifted in her chair. “Fine, Pray, just send me off to the firing squad next.”
“Maybe later,” Pranay said, poking her younger sister in the shoulder. “Now: talk.”
“Fine, fine.” Preet rolled her eyes, shifted in her seat again, scratched a small patch of bare skin on one bandaged arm. What she didn’t do was talk, so Prem kept staring, puzzled and wishing she’d remembered to lock the bedroom door.
Preet finally did say something: “Would you believe that that old coffin-dodger Zaidi shaved my hair, Prem? My hair!’’ She gestured to her bandaged head, a look of outrage on her face.
Prem, unsure of how to react, turned back to tie the thick curtains open with a pair of silk sashes. “Well, you were only dying. Do it more often and you might get more used to that sort of thing.”
“Gods’ gonads, I hope not. I don’t plan on repeating the process anytime soon.” Preet shimmied her hips in the chair. “Shut the door, Pray, or Priya’s going to skin us all alive when she finds us in here.”
“Well we can’t have that,’’ Pranay said, but she did as Preet directed without further comment.
Preet rubbed the tip of her nose. “They still won’t give me back my hookah, Prem. Or my cigars, even! I’d do something unmentionable for a smoke right now.”
“A little moderation won’t kill you,” Prem said, opening up the tallest set of wardrobes. It was a depressing sight, with rows and rows of child-sized clothes that bulged out of drawers and were draped on old hangers. The scent of mothballs was so unbearable she shut the doors again. “Mother didn’t throw out a single, solitary thing, did she?”
“Did you expect otherwise? And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Which question?” Prem said, checked another wardrobe, which was just as disorderly and stinking as the first. Mothballs hadn’t saved some of the clothes from fraying and being chewed to pieces by mice.
“What are you doing in here?”
Prem shrugged. “Spring cleaning.”
“But it’s not spring yet.”
Turning to look at Preet, Prem frowned. “So?”
“What about to your cell downstairs?” Pranay said. “You refused to even step foot in here when you first got home, as I recall.”
Prem shut the second wardrobe and leaned back against the doors, crossing her arms, looking down at her toes. “Maybe…maybe it’s time to change some things.” She looked around the room. “The décor is garish, but I can fix that. And I won’t have to walk up three flights of stairs to wash my hair anymore.”
Pranay pushed Preet’s chair over next to the bed, took a seat after coiling her hair at her feet, then patted the space between them in invitation. Prem hesitated, then walked over and took a seat.
Pranay reached out with one hand, taking one of Prem’s. “Are you…alright?”
Prem looked down at her wrists, wrapped in fresh bandages—between those and the deep scratches on her face, she hadn’t escaped Chanda’s vengeance unscathed. “I think so. Mostly.”
“We think—’’ Preet flinched when Pranay looked at her. “Ah… I mean… I just thought I should say…I’m sorry.’’ Preet sniffed, scrubbed under her nose with a free hand. “I could have treated you a lot better when you came home. Or…what I mean to say is…I should have.”
Pranay nodded, and Prem smiled. She couldn’t help it. “Accepted, then.”
“Priya told us that you two talked,” Pranay said. When Prem tensed up, the eldest sister squeezed Prem’s hand tight, so tight that she looked up. “She said that you’d tell us about it when you were ready.”
“We know that you’ve changed,” Preet said. “A lot. Since you left.” She took a breath, let it out in a sigh. “But we’re still glad that you’re back.”
“We’ve all been worried about you, after what happened,” Pranay said.
“We missed you,” Preet added. “And this is your home, too.”
Prem took her hand back, folded both in her lap. “I understand. I…I’ve been thinking a lot about everything that’s happened.” Prem knew she wasn’t ready to tell them everything that she’d told Priya. Still, it felt easier to talk, felt less like they were scrutinizing everything she said. “I can’t change the past, but maybe I can learn to live with it, a little. Kunaia can’t seem to do that; Chanda couldn’t do it, either. I want something better to look forward to than that. Hopefully.”
“How can we help?” To Prem’s surprise, Preet was the one who said it.
Prem thought about it for a long moment, until she gave the only answer she knew how to give: “I don’t know yet.” She needed more time to make up her mind, to figure out what help she did—or didn’t—want.
“Fair enough,” Pranay said. “But what are you going to do for now?”
“About what?” Prem said.
“About yourself,” Pranay answered. “About what we talked about, about why you came home.”
“Right now, there’s not much I can do. I just need a little more time to figure things out.“ Prem fidgeted, not caring how it looked. “I have some things I want to talk to Priya about, about things I can do to help, but…” Her voice trailed away, like she didn’t know how to finish.
Preet reached out, squeezing Prem’s knee. “You’ll figure it out. And we’ll help. Plus, you’ve always got me here to give you a friendly shove in the right direction, don’t you?”
Prem snorted. “Thanks Preet, that’s so helpful of you.”
The older sisters looked at each other—Preet grinned and Pranay turned back to Prem with a wink. “What else is family good for?”
The bedroom door opened with a quick knock, and another Guard peeked inside. “Mari Prem, you have a visitor.”
“I do?” Prem said.
“She does?” Preet echoed.
The Guard nodded. “Mariander Neru is waiting in the gardens.”
“Oh-ho. Is he now?’’ Preet showed off a wide grin.
Prem huffed, swatted her on the shoulder.
“Hey! I’m injured, remember?”
“Keep that up and you really will be.” Prem smirked when she said it.
Preet seemed to find that surprisingly funny, but only stopped her laughing when she winced and hugged her sore side. “Damnit Prem, don’t do that.”
“Alright, back to bed with you,” Pranay said as she stood, turning the chair around and rolling it back towards the door, her long black hair swinging behind her. She stopped in the doorway, looked back at Prem. “Go see your visitor. We’ll talk more later.”
Prem nodded, even smiled the tiniest bit. “I think I’d like that.”
Mariander sat on a bench under a bodhi tree, its large, unripened purple fruit standing out against the thick, green leaves and spindly boughs that stretched high into the air. He wore a tweed brown coat rather than his normal blue one, with long trousers and a cap folded up in his hands. It made him look more like the dandy Prem would’ve expected him to be, had they met under different circumstances. His dark skin looked rich and soft in the morning sunlight, and his hair was brushed back.
Mariander stood as Prem approached. “It’s good to see you, Prem, if I might say so.” He had such a handsome smile. It looked good on him, she thought.
Prem smiled back. “It’s good to see you too, actually.” She motioned at his garb. “You’re not in your uniform.”
“Yes. That.” He scuffed a toe in the grass, smile turning sad at the edges.
“What happened?”
“I’ve been demoted. After what happened—the Rani being attacked, not to mention everything else that went on, and me being the ranking officer in the area… Well, I think they expected me to resign, seeing as I took charge of security at the last minute. The Guard was the only show of force planned for the event before I pulled some strings to get the route cordoned off that morning.”
Prem frowned. His news was unwelcome, but not unexpected. “Sounds like you stepped on a few toes, and all on account of me.”
Mariander sighed and shook his head. “I won’t give them the satisfaction of pushing me out that way. When I leave, I’ll do it when I’m ready.”
“‘Them?’” Prem raised an eyebrow. “Your superiors, you mean?”
He smiled again, but it wasn’t sincere and faded after a moment. “My mother’s taken to her bed since New Year’s. She says that you nearly broke her wrist when you ‘attacked’ her.”
Prem snorted. “She’s a goddamn liar.” After she said it, Prem sighed too. “I’m sorry, Mariander. I did no such thing.”
“No, you didn’t, and I know that. I was there, remember?”
The way Mariander said it made Prem laugh before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth, coughed, and nodded again. “Yes, I suppose so. Maybe she’s just laying low until things calm down.”
“Most likely, if I know her,” he said. “Your sister’s certainly been keeping everyone else busy in the meantime.”
“Who, Pri?” Prem gave a huff of another laugh. “That sounds like her. Between public audiences, press conferences and all the interviews she’s been granting lately, I don’t know when she has time to do anything else. She’s trying to meet with as many people as possible, but more keep coming.” Prem smirked. “We keep teasing my sister about being a real politician—if this keeps up, it might actually happen.”
“Gods! Perish the thought.”
They took a seat on the bench together. It felt good to sit next to Mariander, not quite touching, but close enough that she could if she wanted. Prem realized then that she did want to, so she set a hand atop his leg. When he placed his hand on hers, Prem thought that felt very nice.
Rikki’s furry head poked out of Mariander’s coat collar, her crimson eyes glittering in the sunlight. The assassin and the mongoose looked at one another for a moment, as if sizing each other up more seriously, now with time to spare. Finally, Rikki crawled around to Mariander’s far shoulder and curled up, giving a tiny chirp before going quiet.
“Do you think your mother’s responsible for your demotion?” Prem spoke more softly and with more intimacy, probably on account of the warmth in her cheeks and from how he curled his fingers around hers.
“I won’t speculate on that,” he said. “I’m still debating how to feel about her being involved with everything else that happened.” Mariander squeezed her hand and looked out across the gardens and sparkling pools.
“That’s not really an answer, Mariander.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m glad you’re alright, though.” Mariander looked at her, now smirking himself. “You surprised me with that trick, swapping places with the Rani. I’ll admit you had me fooled. I expect quite a few people were fooled.”
Prem nodded. She watched the water sparkle in the nearest pool, at how the rainbows bent and twinkled in the sunshine. “I guess I tricked the right people when it counted.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” He didn’t explain what he meant, and when she didn’t answer, Mariander squeezed her hand again. “About what happened after the explosion, I mean. I’ve read the papers, but I’d rather hear it from you.”
“I will. Later. There’s a lot to talk about—it’s a long story, longer than you might think—but let’s just say that…the woman who started all of this wanted to hurt me, and decided that the best way to do that was to threaten my family. She was willing to die to make sure I did, too.” Prem shrugged. “She did die. I didn’t.”
“I saw you on the roof, right after the explosion.”
Prem nodded again.
Mariander didn’t pull away or show any outward reaction, but she could sense a tension in his grip. “The way you looked,” he said, “what you changed into—when I saw you, the real you, and I knew that you were okay, there was… I felt a sense of relief.”
Prem blinked. “Really?”
“Definitely.” The tension left him, like his earlier worries were beginning to fade. “I was afraid for you, but at the same time, it was…almost a little exciting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen magic like that before.”
Silence returned. Whether for a minute or an hour, they were content to share each other’s company. Prem rested her head against Mariander’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and listened to the fountain, listened to the hum in the air and the far-away sound of traffic. It was a rare moment of solace, and Prem would miss it when it was over.
“It’s funny,” he said.
She didn’t open her eyes. “What’s that?”
“You’ve always had this way about you, like you always seemed…on-edge somehow. That’s gone now.”
Prem opened her eyes, but didn’t look up. “Gone? Gone how?”
“It’s like you aren’t hiding anything anymore. I can understand why you kept the truth a secret—‘constables and killers don’t mix,’ and all that—but…” Mariander’s voice faded out before he shrugged. “Maybe I’m just projecting.”
Prem shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, perhaps now there might be a chance to get to know each other a little better since the Rani’s out of danger.” Looking up, Prem saw his face, his pretty eyes and a hopeful smile. “Perhaps?”
Prem laughed and sat up straight. “Subtle, Constable, very subtle.”
He grinned. “After that kiss, can you blame me?”
“Kunaia said that she gave you quite the tongue-lashing after the time we spent together. What do you think she’ll do if you keep coming back for more?”
“So my mother might complain again.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “But I don’t kiss her like you kissed me, either.”
Prem blushed and didn’t try to hide it. “I…won’t rule out what might happen in the future, but I won’t speculate, either.”
Now it was his turn to laugh as he took her hand in both of his. “Does that mean you’re still interested? For now?”
“I’m a little worried about some incompatibilities, but I’m interested. For now.“ There were so many caveats and questions that Prem couldn’t even begin to think of them all. “Just trust me on this one.”
“I will. But now I have to go—my patrol starts in less than an hour.” Mariander stood and turned, bending to press a kiss to her knuckles. It was so archaic, such an old fashioned thing that Prem just had to stare, not knowing what to say, or how to even speak for a moment. “I’ll see you again soon?”
He left the question open, which was good, given that it took a long moment for Prem to find her voice. “I… Yes. Of course.”
Prem saw a hint of something eager in the man’s eye, but his smile never wavered. “I look forward to it.” With that, he pulled on his cap as Rikki crawled back into his coat collar and headed for the nearest exit. Prem stared after him, flexing the fingers of her hand over and over.
That night, Prem went to sleep in her old bedroom, tucked comfortably in her old bed. Her sisters seemed excited at the idea of helping to redesign and redecorate her room—a sort of belated “welcome home” gift—but Prem could deal with all of that later. She curled up in soft sheets, rested her head on a cotton pillow for the first time in a very long while, and fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, Prem was standing on a beach of white sand. The air was warm, and stars stretched all the way across the horizon in a moonless sky, but that only made the twinkling lights even brighter. Prem had lived in Bhai Mandwa all her life, a city poised on a living river at the mouth of a great sea, and still she couldn’t ever remember visiting a beach as white and pure as that one before. She saw no buildings around her, no structures of man’s making or otherwise—just the sand, swaying trees, and an endless, black-blue ocean.
Stranger still was her raiment: the garment clung to her body like a sari, hugging her curves and hips, hanging off of one shoulder and down past her knees, yet it stretched behind her in a long train. The fabric was soft and nearly transparent, yet it sparkled like the stars in the sky. Up ahead, she saw a dark figure seated in the sand, staring out at the ocean. Vati’s skin was jet-black again, the same as when they’d met in the jungle. He wore no clothes, but Vati never did—demons had no need for such things.
“Vati?”
The demon didn’t look at Prem, but instead motioned out at the water. “Does this setting please you, Sachin?”
Prem drew up close to him, compelled by some emotion too strong for her to ignore. She took a seat in the sand, tucking her legs under her. “Yes, it does.”
“We thought it might.”
Prem stayed quiet for a long moment, but knew she couldn’t stay silent forever. “I expect you’re pretty angry with me.”
“No, Sachin. We are not.”
She blinked. “You’re not?
The demon shook his head, not looking at her.
“But I failed, Vati,” she said. “I didn’t kill Chanda.”
“She is dead, Sachin. Whether we cut her throat or she did it for us, our enemy is gone. We survived the hunt. We live. That is what matters most.”
They sat together in silence. It felt similar to her time with Mariander in the gardens, but it wasn’t the same. It could never be the same: Vati was a predator, a wild creature almost beyond human understanding. Still, in that moment, Prem felt like she did understand him, a little. “Thank you for your help.”
Vati grunted.
“Without you, all of us—my sisters and I—we might all be dead. It all feels so surreal, knowing how close we came to failing, how close some of us came to dying. Chanda almost won.”
The demon grunted again, but he didn’t leave it at that. “That was not her true name. Would you like to know it? To truly know our enemy?’’ Vati looked over at her, his smooth, dark head and face soaking in the light; there were only his eyes, shining in the starlight, staring into the deepest, darkest pit of her soul.
Prem shook her head. “No. Chanda… I only knew her a little while. She was my friend once, but her story was still a tragedy. She didn’t deserve what Nivas Hogenkal or anyone else did to her.”
“She is dead. What does she care for how you think of her now?”
“Chanda was willing to die to kill us, Vati. I don’t need to know her story beyond that. She believed in her cause to the end.”
“Foolishness.” The demon waved a hand, dismissing such notions. “The one who dies while killing finds no value in anything, much less a cause.”
“Chanda thought that cause was worth dying for,” Prem said. “She and her spirit are gone, Vati—let’s leave them that way. I just hope her next life is kinder to her.”
Vati smirked. “Ever the idealist, Sachin.”
Prem smiled and shrugged one bare shoulder. “Maybe.”
“And the romantic too, it seems.”
The subject of Mariander was bound to come up eventually, Prem knew that. Vati’s tone was neutral, which both intrigued and worried her. “You don’t like him.”
“No, we do not. But it hardly matters how we feel about him, Sachin. We know your feelings for him are mixed. Are they not?”
She nodded. “Yes. But…something’s there. He seems to think so. I wish I knew what to do.” She traced her fingers through the sand in front of her, listening to the rush of the waves, to her own breathing. “I don’t expect you to approve. I don’t even know whether I care or not right now.”
The demon rested his chin on one hand, staring out at the dark waves. “Perhaps you should simply consider asking us.”
Prem opened her mouth, licked her lips. “Vati, you never—’’
“Our survival is paramount, Sachin,” he said, cutting her off. “That matters to us above all other things. Surely you can’t have forgotten that already.’’ Vati’s voice was droll and dry, a drop of amusement in a sea of bitter wit.
“No, of course not. But you refused to even discuss the possibility of…romance…with other men before.” It was almost impossible to think she’d be talking about such things with Vati before now. Prem wondered if she and her father might’ve ever spoken about such things in another lifetime.
“And any of those men—the ones that made your heart flutter and bleed with such fiery, unrequited passion—did they ever care about our survival, Sachin?”
“Well—’’
“Or were they more interested in other pursuits, perhaps? Those of a more personal and carnal nature.’’ Vati dipped his chin, giving her a long, deep stare from below his brows. “Do you think they cared for you at all like this latest one appears to, Sachin? Did you consider that?”
Prem laughed, unable to stop herself. “So now you’re saying that you were protecting me? From what?”
“What indeed.” That was the only answer Vati gave before lapsing into silence, turning back to the waves and staring into the nothingness beyond them. Prem didn’t really like his answer, but it did leave her with some things to think about, like what constituted “protection” in the mind of an inhuman creature such as he. Perhaps the other men in her life had been a threat, wanting to usurp the demon’s control, but Mariander didn’t seem so threatening to Vati now. Or maybe all the demon could do was speak his threats and confusing declarations while being powerless to stop her. It remained to be seen how she could balance her allegiance to Vati with her burgeoning desire for Mariander, but that wasn’t a challenge difficult enough to stop her.
Prem paused, thinking for a moment. “Vati.”
“Yes, Sachin?”
“…Kiss me.”
“What?” Vati turned and even sat back a bit, as if the request had startled him. “Why? Do you desire us?”
Prem reached out and touched his face, brushing her fingers down his cheek and under his chin. “Sometimes humans just want to be kissed, Vati.”
The demon seemed to consider that, looking contemplative and even interested at her words. Leaning in close, Vati opened his mouth while Prem closed her eyes.
If Mariander’s mouth was like biting into a warm bun, Vati’s mouth was swallowing a live coal. The demon’s tongue was probing and hungry, both curious and forceful at the same time, but it wasn’t unpleasant; the heat of it shot from the roots to the tips of her hair and made her eyes shine as they opened again. Prem’s heart pounded in her chest and her fingernails pressed tight into her palms. The kiss lasted for a long, long minute until he pulled away, and Prem blew out a long, shivering breath.
“Did that please you, Sachin?”
“Very much.”
“Good. Now sleep.”
The demon’s command surprised Prem, and yet, immediately she knew it was safe. The demon was never so patient or gentle as he was then, which wasn’t the right word to use—Vati could no more be gentle than Prem knew how to fly. But his invitation felt genuine, a sort of peace offering, and Prem wasn’t about to ask twice. She wondered what to think of his words, or of his kiss. She could never love a creature like him, but some part of her wondered if, in that indiscernible, inhuman consciousness of his, Vati actually did care for her.
Shifting in place on the white sand, Prem lay down and rested her head on Vati’s lap, looking out at the dark water. Feeling his hand on her head, stroking her hair, was strange and a little unsettling, but soon the discomfort faded and her eyes began to close, lulled by the crash of the waves and the deep pull of her own breathing.
Prem soon fell into a sleep beyond sleep, to a place beyond the reach of mortal men, demons or gods. In the morning when she woke, there would be more work to do, but for now, she slept, and did not dream.