Tiger’s Destiny (38 page)

“Don’t you think it’s time to tell me the truth?”

Sighing, I scooped up some soap and washed my neck. “Look, the truth is . . . very complicated.”

“Then tell me what you can. Can you get more food?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Enough to load many pack animals?”

I bit my lip. “Yes. We have an unlimited supply of whatever food you need. But pack animals are not necessary.”

She tilted her head as she considered the information. “And what of clothes and blankets?”

“It is the same.”

“And medicines?”

When I hedged uncomfortably, she pressed, “Most of my men are healed even from the gravest of wounds. You did this.”

After a moment, I nodded again.

She blew out an awestruck breath that drifted away into the air. “Do Dhiren and Kishan also know how to use this power?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will stockpile enough supplies here to last for a week and Dhiren will use this power to help the other armies. When we have provided for their needs, we will ask their leaders to meet with us and we will join together to defeat our enemy.”

After a quiet moment, I whispered, “All right.”

Anamika studied me thoughtfully. “This power must be protected at all costs. We must supply these things secretly. It would be wise to provide the men with a diversion, so they are not aware that the three of you have this power.”

I hesitated and asked, “Would the men believe that a benevolent goddess was watching over them?”

She peered at me and though it was dark, I could still make out the flash of green in her eyes. “A goddess? With the power you wield, yes, they would believe in that.”

“Then perhaps you would be willing to spread this rumor to the other camps when you meet with them?”

She considered for a moment then answered, “Yes. It is a good plan.” She swiped a towel over her shoulders and said uncertainly, “Kelsey, do you care that I take Dhiren from your side? I will leave you with your betrothed, of course.”

My jaw tightened, but I shook my head, indicating that it was okay, though inside my heart wrenched.

“Good. I like Dhiren.” As she spread the wet towel on the rock, she said quietly, “He fills the empty place at my side.”

I found that I suddenly couldn’t swallow, and my eyes felt hot.

Anamika left the spring. Briskly, she dried off and began dressing in the dark. “These new clothes Dhiren made for me are of the softest material. I haven’t worn anything so fine since I left India.”

The empty place. Why do I suddenly feel like my heart has an empty place?

“He made clothes for you too. Here.” She placed them on a rock nearby and crouched down before speaking again. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?” I replied with a solid lump in my throat.

“I want to ask you to take care of my camp until I return in a week’s time. Kishan will help you. I do not find him an easy man like his brother, but you love him so I will tolerate his presence. My men will be instructed to obey your orders.”

I nodded weakly and with a whisper of fabric, Anamika disappeared.

Our secrets were unraveling, spiraling out of control, and I felt them spin in my mind and heart. I rose from the spring, dried, and dressed, then made my way back to the main part of camp.

Back in our tent, I found Kishan helping Anamika and Ren prepare for their journey. Ren had a sword strapped to his side. He wore a heavy tunic over a thick pair of leggings. A cloak hung over his arm, which he set down along with a helmet to show me that the Scarf and the Golden Fruit were hidden within his bag. I took the
kamandal
from my neck and tied it around his.

He looked unbelievably handsome—an ancient Indian warrior come to life from the pages of a history book. A twist of fate had given him to me although he should have died centuries before I was born. I had set aside that precious gift, and now I didn’t know how to get it back. Regret pierced my heart.

As Kishan made sure they had all they needed, I wished for a waterskin filled with firefruit juice. It materialized on Anamika’s table with a shimmer. I handed it to her, saying it was medicine and that she should drink it all.

She clutched my upper arm and said, “Be safe, Kelsey,” then Ren placed a cloak identical to his around her shoulders and gallantly tied it into place. She smiled shyly up at him, and the pair slipped through the tent flap and disappeared with Kishan trailing along behind to see them off.

A moment later, I heard the galloping of horse hooves receding. I returned to my bed to hide the backpack and noticed a sheet of parchment placed on top. In Ren’s beautiful script, I read Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 50” and a note:

Stifling a flood of tears, I stepped out of the tent into the crisp air. The sky, beautiful and full of stars an hour before, was now bleak and empty. The light on the horizon was a nauseating shade of pink. Panic rose in me like a fluttering bird, beating its wings against my swollen heart. My stomach twisted. As the men stirred in their tents and the sky brightened, I felt an impending doom.

allies

R
en and Anamika were gone for almost three weeks. We’d been busy while they were gone but not busy enough for me to forget about Ren those eighteen long days. I couldn’t help but feel that every day that we were apart, I was losing more of him.

Kishan trained the men to fight as one unified army and helped the wounded regain their strength. Ren and Kishan had built a new tent near the cooking fires and filled it with all kinds of food—fruits, meats, vegetables (both dried and fresh)—and there were barrels and bags of whole grains, beans, and rice.

Now that the men were eating heartily and were stronger, they yearned for something to do other than to perform battle exercises. Kishan’s training as a military advisor quickly became apparent, and it was fascinating to watch him change from the modern man I knew back into the Indian prince he once was. As he eased into the role, I could see a different side of him, and I felt a sense of pride and amazement for the man who was my fiancé.

He worked alongside the men every day, taking very little time to tend to his own needs. I often brought him meals and found him doing everything from chopping wood and filling water barrels to patiently teaching young soldiers the correct way to throw a spear. Every time I approached, he gave me a soft smile and kissed my cheek.

In the evenings, he came to my tent and rested his head wearily in my lap. He’d tell me about his day as I stroked his hair and then as the camp settled for the night, he’d kiss me tenderly before heading to his own tent.

The men were more than willing to follow his direction, and he sent several groups out to hunt to supplement our food supply or out on scouting parties to assess the whereabouts of Lokesh and his army. Kishan had me and some of the women practicing drills also. He said if Lokesh was to be defeated by a woman, then it made sense to teach some of the women at least the rudimentary basics of battle.

I stood alongside old grandmothers and young wives as Kishan ran us through drills to strengthen our muscles and to train us in the use of knives and small swords. All the women remarked that I was such a lucky girl to have someone like Kishan as my fiancé, and the few unmarried women watched him covetously and flirted shamelessly as he patiently guided them in the use of light hand weapons.

I was happy being with Kishan and working with him. Exhaustion at the end of each day made me seek my tent at nightfall. Although I could barely keep my eyes open, I still scanned the horizon continually, watching for Ren and Anamika’s return.

When Anamika’s group of warriors finally rode into camp one evening, we all cheered and gave them heroes’ welcomes. The clattering sound of their armor and their sheer size alone was intimidating. There was a call for water and for someone to take the horses. I heard Kishan bark out instructions. The sounds of many languages floated upon the air. I scanned the group seeking just one man, the one with the piercing blue eyes.

Without thinking, I cast aside my bow and wove through the stamping horses. Kishan shouted my name, but I continued on and ducked between armored bodies until I came upon Ren at last.

Ren turned and saw me. He still held the reins of his horse in one hand.

Emotions running wild, all I managed to say with a tight voice was, “I missed you.”

He took a step toward me and scooped me into his arms. Though he wore plates of armor on his chest and shoulders, he held me tightly against him and pressed his cheek to mine. “I missed you too,
iadala
.”

The Chinese warrior standing behind him clapped Ren on the shoulder and made a few rather loud comments in either Mandarin or Cantonese. Ren set me down, and I turned to find several people staring at us. Kishan had pursued me through the crowd, his sword at the ready, until he saw me with Ren. Though his grip on his sword relaxed, his muscles remained tensed and his eyes were like hard flint. Stonily, he stared at Ren.

Anamika came up behind Kishan; her piercing gaze studied each of us in turn, her face had an unreadable expression. The crowd stilled and became uncomfortably silent as they watched the four of us. Anamika called out a command and then turned away, heading for her tent.

The returning soldiers started moving again but looked at me over their shoulders quizzically.

After handing off his horse to a waiting soldier, Ren gave me a brief smile and squeezed my arm before turning away. He quickly instructed men to set up accommodations and provide meals for the guests. Many of Anamika’s soldiers, though they treated Ren deferentially, paused at his commands and explained that Kishan had already begun organizing the new arrivals. Ren accompanied the Chinese warrior to the cooking fire in the center of camp.

I looked for Kishan, but he had vanished. Figuring he was as busy as Ren, I ducked into the tent I shared with Anamika and came upon her shedding her armor. She kept her back to me.

“I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely,” I said.

She didn’t respond.

“Are you hungry?”

The goddess-like warrior shook her head and removed her boots, replacing them with softer, more comfortable slippers.

“I see your feet have healed. So the juice worked?”

She finally turned to me, and her tight expression softened a bit. “Yes, my feet are healed. Thank you.”

“I’m just glad you’re back.” I smiled.

“Yes, I can see that.” She let out a sigh and stood. “How are my men?”

“They are good. Almost all of them are ready for battle. Kishan has been training them—and the women as well.”

Anamika raised an eyebrow. “He has trained the women?”

I shrugged. “He believes a woman should know how to defend herself.”

She puzzled over this for a moment before nodding and stepping to the tent flap. As she parted it to go, she turned her head. “Our guests are beginning to believe that we are being helped by a goddess, and a few of them have the notion that the goddess is personified in me.”

I nodded cautiously.

“They also believe that Dhiren is my consort,” she stated frankly. “It might be wise to allow them to continue in this belief, at least until the war is over.”

“I . . . I understand,” I whispered thickly as she exited.

I stood there wondering if being a consort meant what I thought it meant or if there was some back-in-time different meaning of the word.

Consort
.

The term crossed my tongue roughly. It was an ugly word. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever heard a word I detested more.

“Ren is her
consort
,” I whispered.

I wandered toward the center of camp. There was a great deal of noise coming from the cooking area. Kishan stood on the outskirts with arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face. The warriors had refreshed themselves and were emerging from the food tent as Ren spoke with them enthusiastically. The new warriors hung on his every word and the men of the camp, though they nodded in respect to Kishan as they passed, flocked around the “goddess” and her new “companion.”