Tiger's Promise (2 page)

One

I sat at the mirror as Isha brushed out my hair in smooth strokes and fingered the
petals of the yellow flowers I’d just arranged. My father had returned from a successful
campaign, one that opened new avenues for acquiring wealth. Not that the people or
the king would ever see a golden coin, a fat sheep, or even a bolt of precious fabric.
No. The only ones who would profit from my father’s exploits would be his close supporters—men
nearly as vile, deceitful, and corrupt as he was.

Of course no one actually came close to perpetrating the deeds he had. If I were,
in fact, to compare the leches’ doings side by side against the acts of villainy performed
by my father, they would all fall short. I’d long ago stopped counting the number
of people he’d had killed in the most violent of ways. If it hadn’t been for Isha,
I would have quietly disappeared years ago.

Unfortunately, the magic I’d been able to hone only applied to myself, other than
the little bit of healing I’d been able to provide for Isha over the years—a skill
we carefully kept secret. We both knew the danger we’d be in if my father ever found
out I was in possession of even a drop of the magic he possessed. So the two of us
watched and waited, but there was never a time when we weren’t surrounded, never a
time when a guard wasn’t at his most attentive. They all knew what would happen to
them should they fail my father. Until such time as our circumstances changed, we
were trapped.

I was always careful, always vigilant, but even more so now that he’d returned. It
was my sixteenth birthday, and the king, as kind a man as my father was contemptible,
had requested my presence at a celebration. He was throwing an elaborate party and,
though I was grateful for his thoughtfulness in inviting me, my stomach twisted with
nerves.

When the festivities were announced, I inwardly cringed, knowing the activity would
require me to be on the arm of my father, a position I loathed, but even worse, it
was a position that was inherently dangerous. Still, to mark the day of my birth by
attending a lavish event at the palace was a special and rare enough affair that I
looked forward to the occasion regardless. Especially because I thought I just might
get an opportunity to visit the king’s famous garden.

Isha announced that my hair was finished. She’d artfully arranged it so the bulk of
it hung down my back, but she’d pinned up several sections at my crown and affixed
little jewels among the strands. Attired in sumptuous yet as markedly modest silks
as my father would allow, I presented myself for Isha’s inspection.

She clucked her tongue. “You were always a beautiful child, my little Yesubai, but
you are becoming a breathtaking young woman.”

Taking the sheer veil from her hands, I wrapped it around my back, placed it carefully
over my hair, and gave her a hint of a sad smile. “And you know how much I wish I
was of a plainer appearance. Beauty only serves to draw more of his attention.”

As she pinned the veil in place, Isha countered, “Perhaps your beauty stays his hand
more often than is in his nature.”

“Perhaps.” I fixed the lower portion of the sheer golden veil across my face, felt
the telltale twinge in my stomach that meant someone of great power was nearby, and
said, “He approaches. Secret yourself in the closet.”

“Yes, mistress.” Isha cupped my cheek with her soft, wrinkled hand. “Be safe tonight.”

I patted her arm. “You as well.”

Isha turned quickly, taking the brush with her, and limped away. For a large woman
with a bad leg, she moved silently, a proficiency we had both mastered out of necessity.
Though I listened carefully, even I could not hear an indication that she was present.
From the closet, she would be able to see the exchange between me and my father, but
she had implicit instructions not to intervene no matter what happened.

The likelihood that he would heap abuse upon me before we met the king was minimal
anyway, and even if he did, I could heal myself, whereas my ability to heal any injury
she sustained was limited. If only I could practice my magic more openly, perhaps
I could attain a level of power strong enough to be of real help.

Steeling myself, I lowered my eyes at the precise moment the door opened. My father
entered the room with his aide, Hajari, a man as vicious as he was ugly. Standing
rooted in place, I subdued the flinch as Hajari closed the door behind him and felt
the hum of energy in my body as I purposely relaxed my limbs.

“And where is your lazy nursemaid?” my father, Lokesh, immediately questioned. “She
has a bad habit of leaving you alone too long.”

“I am never truly alone, Father,” I said softly and felt the frown of his annoyance.
I’d been careless in my comment. It smacked of boldness. Quickly, I added, “Besides,
there is not a soul living in the house of my esteemed father who would dare to approach
me with malevolent intention. Your powerful influence is felt even from a distance.”

After a moment of intent scrutiny, he decided to let my comment pass. “That is as
it should be,” he said impatiently.

“It was perhaps rash of me,” I voiced quickly, “but I sent Isha to bed early. She
is feeling sickly, and I did not wish to attend the king with a sniveling, unsightly
red nose.”

He grunted but immediately lost interest in Isha. My father deplored weakness above
all things and detested seeing it in others. As long as I’d known him, he’d never
taken ill, but any soldier who so much as coughed in his vicinity was immediately
sent away from his presence. His aversion to sickness worked in my favor, but I knew
he was far too intelligent for me to use that particular trick again.

Circling me, he boldly appraised my appearance, and though my hands clenched when
I saw Hajari’s vile leer displaying his blackened and broken teeth—something he only
dared to do behind my father’s turned back—I quickly opened my fingers and smoothed
my skirts. It would not do to show my father I felt fear or nerves. He loved nothing
more than invoking the emotion in others. Even Hajari’s face was impassive when my
father circled around.

“I suppose you are attired appropriately,” my father said. “Though you know I prefer
lavender to this gold. It brings out your eyes.” He cupped my chin and I obediently
lifted my gaze to meet his.

“I will remember your preferences for the next celebration we attend,” I murmured
demurely but with just enough cheek that his instinct to exploit weakness would not
be triggered. We both knew that another royal invitation was unlikely at best.

My father was like a beast of prey. If a person was bold enough to stand up to him,
he admired the gesture, but if he considered a person too weak, he simply destroyed
him. The best way to avoid being caught between his jaws was to leave no tracks, to
move through the space like a spirit.

I was ten when I discovered I had the ability to vanish. At first, I didn’t even know
what had happened. The stomping of boots outside my door frightened me, and I froze
in place. Isha came quickly into my chamber, rushing past, straightening up my already
immaculate room. My father preferred his possessions, as he did his people—though
to him people were possessions—to all be in their proper places should he wish to
find them.

Isha’s precautions had been unnecessary. The door never opened. When she peeked outside,
she conversed briefly with the guard and then closed the door.

That’s when she started calling my name. “Bai? Yesubai? Where are you? You can come
out now. Your father is away. It was just the changing of the guard.”

“I…I’m right here,” I whispered softly.

“Bai? Where are you? I cannot see you.”

“Isha?” Concerned, I stepped forward, placing my hand on her arm. She let out a panicked
squeak and ran her hands over my arms and face.

“It must be the magic,” she said. “You’ve made yourself invisible. Can you change
back?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, the panic blooming in my chest.

“Try clearing your mind. Think of something meaningless.”

“Like what?”

Isha looked at the boxes of flowers that had just been brought in from the market
for me to arrange—the one pleasure my father allowed me. As I cupped each lovely bud,
I imagined it growing wild in the sun as it stretched its leaves toward the sky, even
though I knew that most of the flowers brought to me were cultivated. Watching the
blooms slowly wither over time felt oddly appropriate and extremely prophetic.

I wondered, even as a child, when my own bloom would fade and I, too, would waste
away into nothing in my chamber, where I could draw no nourishment and never feel
the sun on my face. Even if I just had the freedom to wander the markets myself, to
escape briefly from the prison I lived in, that would be a reprieve I would treasure.
“List every flower you can think of,” Isha said, interrupting my thoughts.

“I’ll try.” Wetting my lips, I began. “Jasmine, lotus, marigold, sunflower…”

“There. It’s beginning to work. I can see you, but the light goes through you like
it would a wandering spirit.”

“Magnolia, dahlia, orchid, chrysanthemum…”

“Just a little bit more.”

“Lily, rhododendron, amaranth, clematis, Calliandra.”

“There now. You are fully visible. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine. I did not sense that I was using magic.”

“We will practice while your father is away. You must be able to control this, Bai.”

And practice we did. By the time he returned, an all too short four months later,
the ability to make myself invisible came easily, but try as we might, I could not
transfer or share the gift with Isha. Our happiness in my new talent soon became resignation
since I refused to leave my guardian, though she wasted many hours and even more tears
in trying to convince me to escape without her. Ultimately, we decided not to risk
exposing the gift, and I mostly remained in my room as I had before.

During the next few years, there were only a few rare occasions when I used my newfound
ability. One had been to escape the untoward advances of the few of my father’s men
who dared risk his wrath. Even as a young girl, I’d been subject to their leers and
pinches when my father wasn’t looking. They warned me that if I told him what they’d
done, they would do something horrible to Isha. As I approached womanhood, their threats
became more commonplace, and they sought out opportunities to catch me alone.

When one did, I escaped into the next room and willed myself to vanish. Though he
suspected I’d tricked him somehow, he dared not tell my father, for then he’d have
to explain the reason he’d been in my chamber in the first place.

I used my power a few times after that to spy on the guards or to steal little sweetmeats
to give Isha as presents, but she felt that the risk was too great, and to keep her
happy, I stopped using my ability unless it was absolutely necessary. Thanks to Isha’s
vigilance and my gifts, I managed to escape all that meant me harm except for my father.
The danger should he discover my abilities was undeniable so I suffered his abuse
in silence.

Though I would have liked nothing more at the moment when my father circled me than
to vanish, I gave him a tight smile and steeled my resolve. With a swish of my skirts,
we were through the door and down the wide hallway, Hajari following silently behind
us, which meant he was to act as my personal guard for the evening.

—

I climbed into the opulent carriage on loan from the king and allowed the air of celebration
to swirl around me. There was a spark of excitement that invigorated my senses, and
even though I was with my father, the opportunity to see beyond the walls of my living
space was so rare that I determined to bask in it and take in every sight and sound.
Before I could catch myself, I smiled. My father noticed.

“You look like your mother when we first met.”

The smile left my face, and I replaced it with a neutral expression before allowing
the curtain to close and turning toward him. “She was beautiful,” I said indifferently.
It wasn’t a question or an invitation to open a dialogue but a flat statement that
I knew to be true. I’d long ago found that it was easier and safer only to answer
when it was expected and, even then, to say as little as was politely possible. I’d
also learned not to create falsehoods that my father could easily unravel.

“Yes. She was,” he answered. “But she is”—he leaned forward—“no longer.”

I understood his message. He expected men to fawn over me tonight, and my actions
would be carefully watched. “I understand, Father,” I said and lowered my eyes, clasping
my hands lightly in my lap.

After that exchange, he ignored me and conversed with Hajari, who sat entirely too
near. Through my many layers of silk, I could feel his thigh pressed against mine,
and from time to time, he purposely moved his leg in my direction, nudging me. Trying
to disregard him, I slid closer to the window and snuck glances at the passing city.

The whole town was lit up, and as the horses turned the corner, the palace came into
view. It was built on a hilltop, giving it a panoramic view of the surrounding city.
Beyond the buildings were forests, a wide lake, and hills that offered protection
from our king’s enemies. The magnificent citadel was built entirely of marble and
granite, and with its various towers, cupolas, and balconies, there were plenty of
places to explore. Unfortunately I would never have that opportunity.

We sped toward the first of three arched gateways, each named for the carved marble
guardians that stood on either side at the base of each arch. The first was the Vanar
Pol with two large monkey statues. Then came the Bagh Pol, or The Gate of the Twin
Tigers. I shivered when I saw the terrifying set of tiger guardians with teeth and
claws bared.

Last was the Hathi Pol, or the Elephant Gate, with a life-sized elephant standing
at each end, trunks raised and large tusks jutting forward. Though there were no signs
of it, I knew that the wide lot on the other size of the Elephant Gate was used for
elephant fights—a new and horrific practice my father had instigated. He claimed that
the fighting was used to assess which elephants were the strongest, the most powerful,
and the winners were used in his war campaigns.