Page 16 of The Legend of Meneka
“Really?” I sit up straighter. I imagine the two of them younger, growing up around each other’s secrets. I feel such excitement at this little nugget of information that my mind buzzes with possibilities and questions, and I don’t know where to begin. Before I can assemble my thoughts, however, a cry ripples through the air.
I turn in its direction and jump to my feet. Other disciples rise as well, all of us crowding around each other to see. A young, paleskinned girl trembles not far from the bael tree’s trunk. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted in a scream. Leaves crackle, then the tree begins to smoke.
Romasha utters a mantra before anyone else can. Next to me, Anirudh draws a rune of moisture as well. Both their spells hit at the same instant, and streams of water rush over the tree in a small, contained storm, stopping the fire from spreading. Yet, though all of us are standing, no one touches the girl. Everyone keeps their distance from her, their gazes grim, clearly following a protocol I’m unaware of.
Then Kaushika is there, kneeling by the girl, his hand on her forehead. He closes his eyes, and I notice what I did not before. It is not just the tree that kindled with fire. It is the girl herself. Under her pale skin flicker orange embers. The embers flash, from her foreheadto her throat. She cries out, a tiny whimper, and my heart catches at the sound.
“What is he doing?” I whisper.
“Healing her,” Anirudh answers. “Every act of magic we do depletes how much we store inside us, yet healing does it most of all. Kaushika will need to meditate again to refill himself with what he is pouring into Navyashree now. He is generous with how much he’s giving her, and it is sure to have an effect on him, tiring him.”
“A lesson,” Romasha adds, hearing us. Her voice carries to everyone else as well. “Celestials do not burn from holding their magic because they channel prana through their deva king. They are protected, separated from the direct dangers of uncontrolled prana, because Indra forms a barrier to such powerful magic. But they can never have the kind of power we yoke either. Tapasya is fire. Prana is fire. If you do not contain it properly …” She lets her words hang as all of us watch the girl pulsing with sparks.
We back away as Kaushika picks her up in his arms, murmuring under his breath. The unearthly light under the disciple’s skin slowly flows from her into him. He does not look perturbed, but a serious line forms on his forehead, heavy with concentration. If anything, the combination of the fiery glow within him only highlights the alertness of his body. Even with my limited knowledge, I know this is a feat no one else in the hermitage is capable of.
My mission is churned in me by his unseen danger, by his quiet prowess. By how his senseless vendetta against my king, fueled by a self-assured prejudice, threatens heaven itself.Reveal your lust, I whisper desperately, but no image returns to me.
The girl still in his arms, Kaushika marches out of the gathering, Romasha on his heels.
CHAPTER 7
Later that night, I knock on his door.
His hut is by the perimeter of the hermitage, the largest of the settlements within the compound. A window points toward the gardens where the bael tree is. The hut itself overlooks the dark, brooding forest—fitting for this man who keeps one eye on intruders and the other on his disciples. Golden light pools inside, visible from the crack beneath the door. Shadows shift as I raise my fist to knock again.
Kaushika flings open the door, filling up the space with his endless shoulders and impatience. For once, he does not wear the uniform of the hermitage but a night-black kurta and matching pajamas. An old brown scarf drapes around his neck, and on one shoulder he carries a jute bag.
Annoyance grows on his features when he sees me. We are but a handsbreadth away from each other, but I hold my ground, resisting the urge to stagger back as he looms.
He doesn’t retreat either, but his frown grows deeper as though he is aware of this childish game of superiority between us, yet still intends to win.
“What do you want?” he asks gruffly.
I answer with my sweetest smile, knowing it will only aggravate him further. “I came to ask if Navyashree is all right. After what happened to her in today’s lesson.”
Kaushika’s eyebrows rise, his scowl replaced by curiosity just for an instant. “I did not know you were such fast friends.”
“We are not. I simply wish to know.”
“Why?”
“She is a fellow human being. A disciple of the hermitage. Should I not care that she burned?”
Kaushika only snorts.
“Doyounot care?” I ask, tilting my head. “You saved her and depleted the magic you hold inside of you in the process. She isyourstudent.”
“I did my duty,” he says flatly. “Nothing else. I would not get sentimental about it.”
This timeIquirk an eyebrow. “No sentiments about saving a life? How interesting.”
Confusion flickers in his eyes. I let the silence breathe, watching the passage of emotions on his face, doubt and outrage and a fleeting sense of shame. A few choice words, and he has begun doubting himself? I want to laugh because of how easy it is to rile him, and how it is usually the sincerest of my marks who respond like this. He reminds me of Nirjar in his openness—but I cannot think of Kaushika as sincere. It is one step away from pitying him, and then growing fond of him, and then what will become of me and my mission? I mentally shake myself, remembering the hate I first saw on his face.
Kaushika mutters something under his breath, then eyes me with consideration. He shifts his sack from one shoulder to the other, a relenting in the gesture.
“She is all right,” he mutters. “Romasha has taken over her healing. You can go ask her for more details if you want.”
He makes to push past me, but I stand on tiptoe as the candlelight in his house dies away. The hut swims in shadow, the only light coming from the starlight pouring through the windows. Absently, I wonder about his relationship with Romasha. She is certainly beautiful, and I have seen the way the both of them speak to each other incomfortable companionship. Are they merely friends? Or is there something more potent growing between them? If Kaushika and Romasha have an understanding, even budding feelings of romantic affection buried under their vows of asceticism, I can use it to unravel him. Romasha is hardly my competition, yet if I became more like her, he would pay me some mind. Perhapsthatis the shape of his seduction hiding behind his shield—an image concealed not because he fears apsaras but because he fears his own desires and what it means for his vows of asceticism. How easy it would be to break him, then; just another mortal afraid of himself, despite his proclamations of self-knowledge. It is such an ironic thought, I cannot help but grin.
