A Crown of Wishes Page 6

  “Admiring them, are you?” he asked, twisting his neck all the way around. “Pity they are nothing more than ornamentation. But I couldn’t bear to be parted from them. They add style to decay. What afterlife is worth living without some beauty, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The vetala looked me up and down, and sniffed. “Perhaps you wouldn’t.”

  Vikram moved closer to me. Which didn’t seem wise, given my last thought.

  “What do you want, creature?” he demanded.

  “A body with more cartilage would be nice,” exclaimed the creature. “Would you be willing to give me yours?”

  “No,” said Vikram.

  “Perhaps I might have your wife’s instead?”

  “I am not his wife.”

  “Unmarried? Perhaps you might like to be my wife? Mine was most unfortunately beheaded by villagers. No one quite understood her humor.” The vetala sighed. “Ah, Putana … your breasts may have been filled with poison, but they were delightfully plump.”

  Vikram crossed his arms. “Have you been sent here to spy on us?”

  “Why would I waste immortality on you?” laughed the vetala. “I only decided to speak up to offer some advice. Best give that non-wife of yours a bite of your arm. That’s rakshasi fruit in her hand. The want alone will devour you. But she’ll be fine. It’s all temporary. Like any rage. Difficult to avoid the temptation though. I’m surprised she has not eaten you yet. She was musing about it.”

  “Wait, what?” said Vikram.

  “Rakshasi fruit?” I said. “As in … demon fruit?”

  “Did you actually want to eat me?”

  “Calm down, I wasn’t going to follow through with it.”

  He raised an eyebrow, as if to say: You tried to kill me earlier today.

  “The ashram archives said there was nothing left of demon fruit. That it had simply stopped growing in the human world.”

  “Pah. Sages are fools,” said the vetala.

  Vikram peered a little closer at the demon fruit stuck to my hand. “I never imagined it would look so—”

  “—beautiful? Burnished? Bright as hope? Golden as first love?” trilled the vetala. “You boy things are all the same. You think a demoness fruit will be horned and bloody, with a rind of thorns and flesh like iron nibs. Have you never been in love? Ah, love! Never has hell and heaven produced such a fine fruit. All demon in its soul. So gilded in its form. Like a woman at her ripest.”

  “What does it do?” I asked.

  “For a short time, it grants the eater demon-like powers. Increased size, strength, that kind of thing,” said Vikram. “But it doesn’t explain why the vanaras think I could’ve stolen it. It’s impossible for me to use the fruit. It only answers to women. Some say it was grown from the willing heart of a demoness.”

  “The boy is leaving something out,” sang the vetala.

  “What is it?”

  Vikram didn’t meet my eyes. “If rakshasi fruit is eaten at the wrong place and wrong time, the woman who eats it could possibly … eateveryonearoundher.”

  “Is that so? At least I’d be rid of you.”

  His eyes widened. “You choose now to make a joke? You are joking. Right? Gauri?”

  I said nothing. The vetala cackled. Vikram took a small step away from me.

  “Why would the vanaras be growing this?” he asked. “They don’t have a queen anymore to lead an army. And from what I saw of the city, it’s been abandoned ever since Queen Tara disappeared.”

  “That’s not why they keep the fruit,” trilled the vetala. “They’re just tending their ghosts. What you hold in your hand, dear girl, is Queen Tara’s curse. And that is why, dear boy, your plan to spin the vanaras a tale of lies and win your freedom will never work. Not now! Not ever! We can spend the rest of eternity together. What fun.”

  “Stay silent or I will cut out your tongue,” I hissed at the creature.

  “Not my tongue!” said the vetala. “What fun would I be? And besides, if I had no tongue, who would tell you how to escape? I’m the only one who knows.”

  “You know how to get back to the human world?”

  The vetala swayed. “Human world? You can’t go back there if you eat the demon fruit. Wherever it is eaten, that is the world you are stuck in for at least one turn of the moon.”

  The choice loomed before me: Eat the fruit, stay in the Otherworld and potentially die here, or don’t eat the fruit and certainly die here.

  I hesitated. “You’re lying.”

  “My dear, I am showing myself down to my bones! For you, I have bared my heart. Or what’s left of it, rather.” He swayed in his tree, flashing a mouthful of blood-claggy teeth. “There is nothing of me which you do not see.”

  “Why are you even in this cell?”

  “A little monkey wandered into my cremation ground. And I ate him! Pity he turned out not to be a monkey. Oh, but I was fed for days upon days upon days.”

  Vikram crossed his arms. “What did you mean that the demon fruit is Queen Tara’s curse?”

  The vetala eyed us slyly. “That is what she grew from loving too much. She loved her consort and he loved her. But a group of courtesans slew him and two other kings. Instead of letting her love become a phantom ache, she clung to it until it grew a thick and impenetrable hide. It is said that one of the kings had grievously injured the sister of the courtesans. But the king was innocent! Then again, who cares? No one ever mourns the innocently killed! What does your realm call them? Ah, yes. Casualties. As if taking a life is an informal thing. Like a yawn or a laugh.” The vetala swayed and laughed. “No one would avenge her husband. No one cared. So she grew her own vengeance. Cut out her heart to nourish it, stole bones to prop it up against the elements, coaxed it to bear fruit with her tears. And she forced it upon others, to eat of her fruit and partake of her vengeance. And to bring down all the kingdoms who denied her justice. Ah, but how much blood must you guzzle before time breaks you of your sorrow? Bad queen. Bad bad bad. For her greed, she is cursed until a kiss falls upon her stony brow.”

  “How much of that is true?”

  “Who cares if a story is true or not so long as it is told? Either way, your vanaras will not accept the fruit that damned and stole their queen.”

  What a ridiculous curse. If I could have taken down kingdoms with demon fruit, I would’ve grown it too. The vetala fixed its hollow eyes on me. “Careful, girl. The Queen wanted too much too. Her story was vengeance. Do that, and your life’s tale will be nothing but another’s ending.”

  That still didn’t answer the question. Had Queen Tara’s crime only been to lead an army of women? What was the crime in making yourself invincible? Skanda’s grinning face flashed in my memory. If I had the choice of invincibility, I would’ve taken it too.

  “So, let’s assume that you eat this fruit and don’t eat everyone around you,” Vikram said. “Could you smash through the walls of this place and free us?”

  “You could do that,” said the vetala, butting into our conversation once more. “But how will you get out?”

  “The way we came,” I said.

  “And then what?” said Vikram. “That doesn’t leave us with many clues. And we only have two days before—”

  “Don’t!” I shouted.

  “—Kubera’s tournament,” finished Vikram.

  Panic thrummed through my chest.

  “What did you say?” said the vetala. His voice was deathly quiet. I pushed myself off the wall despite the impossible pain and hunger setting me on fire.

  “Maybe I should follow my instincts and eat you just for being plain stupid,” I snarled.

  Vikram stepped backward, his eyes widening.

  “It astounds me that Ujijain has any plans to make you ruler. Did they teach you nothing?” I gritted out, just out of earshot from the vetala. “Never reveal where you are going. Never reveal what you need. You just gave away two of those things by, once more, loudly observing all the ways in which we are in dire need of
help.”

  “I didn’t mean—” started Vikram.

  “I don’t care what you mean. I care about what you’ve done. That thing—” I said, flailing an arm in the vetala’s direction. “—will sweet-talk you into giving away your own soul just to get to where you want to go.”

  “What if it is telling us the truth?” he countered. “Are you the only person capable of being correct? What is so impossible about taking a leap of faith and trying? Besides, it wants something from us. And until it helps us, it won’t get it.”

  “You’re assuming I’ll even follow you to this Tournament. I might as well hide out in the Otherworld until a cycle of the moon passes and go back to the human world.”

  “Are you that frightened of magic?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “If you were half as clever as they say, you would be frightened too.”

  “So you’ll waste a month of your life instead of grabbing the best opportunity?”

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Doubt dug into my thoughts. Before, I didn’t want any part of magic. But if we survived, I couldn’t waste a month of my life. Where would I go? What would I do? I remembered the promise tucked inside the enchanted ruby … the lull and temptation of everything I wanted folded neatly into a wish.

  “I know how to get out and I know how to get to the Tournament of Wishes,” trilled the vetala. “Did you know they call Alaka the Kingdom of Desire? It is just north of Naraka. So quaint, is it not? Death and desire are almost always hand in hand. You will not even leave this kingdom without me. This is the kingdom of the vanaras, you short-lived fools. They are wiser, stronger. Their tunnels and insies and outsies are not like your straightforward forts with their hidden passageways. But I can’t break the walls. The girl would have to do that.”

  “What do you want, vetala?” I asked.

  “I want a body.”

  “We will not give you ours.”

  “How about only one of you dies?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if you shall not part with your bodies, then I suppose I must settle for your shoulders,” said the vetala. “I cannot walk. Or fly. I wish for the crematory grounds, and not this damn solitary confinement with a single stinking iron tree and not a dead body around me for miles.”

  Vikram turned to me. “So will you try it or not? That demon fruit is all we have. I can distract them with a tale, but that won’t be enough to get us out. I need you. Not just to get out, but for this Tournament. Think about what you could do with a little bit of magic.”

  The choice knotted my stomach. Vikram reached out for my hand, cradling it with a strange tenderness that for a moment drowned out the loud call of the demon fruit. I didn’t jerk it away.

  “This is our life,” he said. “Our wish is on that line. We can’t lose it.”

  I pulled back my hand. “And I won’t lose myself. What skin are you putting into this game, fox? Your eloquence? What a sacrifice.”

  “It’s my life too,” he said tightly.

  “Your life makes no difference to that girl,” laughed the vetala. “Maybe someday. But today is not that day. Beast of a girl, I think in another life you would eat it. But bravery needs a bite. And you have lost it somewhere. Broken heart, perhaps?”

  Vikram looked at me sharply.

  “Know this,” he said. “I will not die with you. I will compete in the Tournament.”

  The vetala laughed. “Compete? Dear boy, the game does not start when Kubera’s players arrive in his kingdom. It begins as soon as he chooses the players.”

  8

  DEEPEST, DARKEST SELVES

  GAURI

  In the months after I pulled Nalini from the water, the city and villages had rejoiced so much that Skanda allowed me to become a representative of sorts. I was allowed to attend council meetings. Sometimes, Nalini and I played alongside the sons and daughters of village leaders. Bharata began to know my name and slowly I began to love my country and its people, its customs and its history. I thought I was lucky. I thought my brother’s heart had changed. But when I was fourteen, I realized why he had let my face and name become so closely entwined with Bharata.

  Skanda called me inside the throne room. I suspected he was angry with me. Yesterday I had disagreed with him in front of the council on whether or not to build a temple in a drought-ravaged village.

  “Prayers are good, but what sustenance are words compared to water?” I had said. Nalini had thought of that line, and I smiled after catching looks of both admiration and shock on the council members’ faces. When I entered Skanda’s throne room, he was grinning broadly. Half the council stood in the shadows, watching our exchange.

  Skanda lifted an ornate box that I had never seen.

  “Thank you for this generous gift, dear sister.”

  I frowned. “What gift?”

  Skanda opened the box: milky white snakes twisted and writhed. The council gasped, but Skanda merely raised his hand and laughed. “Water snakes? Don’t worry, councilors. It is a private joke between my sister and me.”

  With one hand, he dismissed them. The room emptied within seconds, but not before I’d caught several suspicious and disgusted glances.

  “I never gave you that,” I said, horrified. “Why would I ever give you poisonous snakes?”

  “So innocent, little sister,” he said, laughing. “And you’re wrong. It’s not their bite that’s venomous. It’s their touch. If they fall into a well of drinking water, they can wipe out a village in a day.”

  The threat took shape between his words. The drinking well that I had advocated for before the council could become a death trap. And the poison could be linked back to me all because he had said before a group of people that the snakes were from me.

  “You lied.”

  He laughed. “Lies! Everyone tells tales, sister. I may not have the public’s ardor and attention the way you do, but I do have the ear of very convincing people.”

  “What do you want, Skanda?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” he said. “I’ll allow this drinking well to be built. But in return, I want you to convince half of the village’s militia to join Bharata’s forces.”

  “That village has suffered enough unrest. They need a strong militia to keep their own people in check. Bharata’s forces are well trained.”

  Skanda kicked the closed box of snakes and a furious hissing welled from inside the wood.

  “They need what I say they need. And I need our eastern territory secured.”

  Fury rose inside me. “And if I don’t agree, you’ll poison an entire village and let my future die alongside them?”

  “Do you doubt it?”

  “Don’t you care?”

  He didn’t hesitate: “No. Caring will make you careless. Caring always ends in a cut throat. So no. I don’t care if they die. I care about my palace. I care about staying on my throne. I care about living.”

  “You cannot break me with a tale, brother.”

  “You’re happy, aren’t you? You’re loved. You love others. I think people are convinced that if you asked the sun not to rise, it would stand down for you. But there’s only one story that people like better than a rise to fame—a fall from grace. And I can make it swift. And I can take all this away. You see, a story is not just a thing told to a child before sleep. A story is control.”

  I never forgot his threat. After that, I was careful not to give anyone power over me. And for the next three years, I played my brother’s political games.

  Outside, the sky looked wounded. Gashes of crimson ripped apart the night. Soon, the vanaras would come. I had a choice. My life could end either way. If I ate the fruit and we escaped, what then? Trusting magic was like trying to harness a thunderstorm. But I couldn’t hide out in the Otherworld for a month knowing Nalini could die any day. I set my jaw. If I survived the fruit, I would fight in this Tournament. I would treat magic the way it should be treated: not like a gift, but a weapon. Something to be wielded with wariness. Not
wonder.

  “Vetala,” I called, whispering so that Vikram would not hear. “What will I become if I eat the fruit?”

  The creature grinned and swayed. “Nothing but yourself, maiden. Nothing but your very self. What is more frightening than our deepest, darkest selves?”

  Footsteps clattered on the stone. I bit down on my cheeks, steadying myself. I would either die by my hand or by theirs. And I would not let that be decided for me. The fruit sang, juice spilling down my palm. I walked to Vikram and kicked his foot.

  “What?” he bit out. Red ringed his eyes.

  “I need you to distract them.”

  He sat up. “And after that?”

  I took a deep breath. “If we survive, I’ll … I’ll be your partner in the Tournament.”

  “And you won’t make any more attempts on my life?”

  “Let’s not be rash.”

  He grinned. “I’ll take it.”

  “If I—” I hesitated. “If I cannot seem to regain myself. Don’t let me live—”

  “What would you wish for right now?” asked Vikram, cutting me off.

  Fists beat the door.

  It was nearly time.

  He stood up, blocking out the light and throwing his face into darkness. He bent down to my ear, his voice low and urgent: “I know you’re scared of losing yourself but think only of what you want. Sometimes that’s all it takes to keep us from losing sight of ourselves.

  “So tell me, Gauri,” he said. “What would you wish for?”

  I thought of Nalini trapped in her cell. Of Skanda sitting on his throne and seeping lies.

  “Freedom,” I breathed. “I’d wish for freedom.”

  His brow furrowed. As if he had expected any answer but that one. The door clanged open. Screeching iron drowned out the stillness.

  “Timesies has come!” squealed the yellow vanara. “Hoppity trot, fruit stealers. Time for your beheading.”

  The vetala yawned and unfurled his tattered parchment wings. “I’ll be the one languishing in the corner should you decide to live.”