Page 9 of The Legend of Meneka
“I want you back,” she whispers, her voice breaking a little. “You said you did this for me. To become like me. Then trulybecomelikeme and do whatever it takes to succeed. And when you’re back, maybe there are other promises we can make to each other.”
I blink. My cheeks warm.
A thousand emotions well in me—hope and excitement and confusion, and beyond it a deep, searing lust. Has she known all along about my feelings? Has she reciprocated all this time, the both of us too unsure about each other to say anything? It is absurd that we are at this inescapable moment, close to what we’ve wanted for so long, when that future is threatened by my own desperate actions. I want to laugh at the irony. I want to weep in despair. I want to be bold now,finally, lean forward, and kiss her, truly kiss her. Thread my fingers in her hair and pull her to me. Taste the sweetness of her skin and strip her down and bite down on her soft flesh.Will she like that? Or would she want me pliant for her, liquid and warm? Would she want me to obey her, takeherlead? Heat pools in me as images flash in my head. I would let her steer if that’s what she wanted. I would let her do anything, as long as we were together.
Yet she is an apsara, purer than any other. Her devotion to the lord guides her every action. It is why I have said nothing to her so far about my intentions. It is why I cannot until I return. If I am to be with her, I have to be worthy of her. I have come so far to be deserving. It would be a mistake to be hasty now.
A new resolve fills me.
Rambha’s kiss lingering on my mouth, I turn toward my destiny.
CHAPTER 4
Ireturn to the mortal realm on a wisp of Amaravati’s wind.
Maybe it is that I am pining for my city already. Maybe it is because I never expected to leave home so soon. Perhaps it is the taste of Rambha’s lips, reminding me of how I have been taken from her again, how much depends on this mission. Whatever it is, I stare at the silent forest I arrive in with revulsion, immediately seeing it for an enemy.
Unlike Amaravati, the mortal realm does not gleam with magic. Chandra’s moonlight provides the only luminosity, streaming from the sky, illuminating a patch of grass here, a clearing there. Small creatures run somewhere, the sound of their feet skittering on dry leaves. A hoot of a night owl sounds close to me, then a swish of wings rustles my hair.
The nakedness of it, without any gilding or reserve, unravels me. My magical tether that bloomed in Amaravati is replaced by a flat line. It happens each time I leave the city, and I clutch my jewels for comfort, pearls running smooth under my touch, trying to absorb the power in them, yet I cannot help but wonder. Will any of it be enough? I do not know what shape Kaushika’s seduction will take. All Rambha said is that he is older than me by nearly five years, warning me that although I am an immortal, he has lived longer. He is of royal blood like many of my other marks, but he is practiced enough in his magic to be called a sage. If apsaras like Nanda could not seduce him, if he has challengedIndra, without even attempting to be subtle about it, then he is, at best, an atheist, and at worst, a megalomaniac. Hiscruelty is likely calculated, diabolical. His fantasies, for all I know, could be darker than any other mortal’s. What will I have to do to come from this mission unscathed?
I harden myself, pushing aside these questions, and crouch to examine the sack I’m carrying. Slowly, I begin to separate the jewels from the clothes and cosmetics. I take off the jewelry I’m still wearing from my mission to Tara, the bangles, the necklaces, even the rings around my toes and the gems threaded through my hair. Maybe my actions are unlike those of the other apsaras who came on this mission before me, but I know I cannot come to Kaushika looking like this. These treasures will simply warn him of who I am.
Still, my fingers hesitate just for an instant as I undo the clasps of the ornaments. What I am doing is too close to blasphemy. Many of these jewels are gifts from the lord. Wearing them is not only a sign of my devotion, it helps me channel my magic directly from Amaravati. An apsara’s magic is tied to the city, which in turn is tied to Indra, who harnesses the prana of the universe itself and distributes it through Amaravati. These jewels are a piece of the lord himself, a reminder of his presence.
Yet even without them, as long as I am pure in thought, I should be able to create illusions, albeit only weak ones. Rambha’s words echo to me.She is unique. She studies her enemy deeply.
I take strength from that and drop all the jewels into one of the parcels. Surely until I know what I am up against, it is more prudent to protect these reminders of the lord. I pick the first large tree I see, a gnarled oak with wide, sweeping branches, and bend to place the parcels at the base. I curl my wrists into a simple mudra, and the illusion forms; light glimmers in golden streaks before diffusing away. When I look next, the jewels are camouflaged in the grass and the rocks, merged with the forest floor.
I barely have time to wonder whether I should wipe the creamyrose dye from my lips too, when a thrumming reverberates around the forest. Snarls and growls follow, disturbing the night, raising all my hackles.
I straighten at once, my eyes darting everywhere. I clutch the remaining packages of clothes and tinctures to me, spinning on my heel. The growls come again, echoing from every direction in the moonlit forest. Shapes die and form within the trees, and my skin erupts in gooseflesh. I turn this way and that, trying to pierce the gloom, knowing I am surrounded.
My palms start to sweat. I was not warned there would be wild creatures in the forest, but of course Rambha would not have thought to tell me. I cannot die through simple means like the attack of a mortal creature. Yet injury? Some scars do not heal, not even for immortal flesh. Without my beauty, I will be useless.
I back away as a roar sounds closer to me. A shape moves in the darkness, too close. A soft cry escapes me, and my body responds on its own. Before I know it, I am running, tripping over roots, stumbling. I want to stop and carve an illusion, something, anything, to distract the creature, but I still cannot see anything clearly. Regret lances through me for hiding my jewels. Without them, I am limited; am I to be punished already for my audacious action? Even as I think this, I crash into something hard.
Vines close around my shoulders, snaking their way down to my hands. My body twists as I fight and cry out—but then it dawns on me. Those are not vines. I am being held by someone. Those arehandsgripping my own, trying to still me.
The realization shocks me, enough to know that the snarls have stopped. The shape in front of me resolves into a man. I stare.
He looks to be about my age, perhaps a little older. His hair is in a topknot, and he wears nothing but simple pajamas and a plain kurta. Under the thin cotton, I can tell his chest is muscled like awarrior’s, yet his attire is too simple for a kshatriya and he wears no bands of any army. I am speechless at the light of his aura. Heavenly auras resemble halos, and most mortals often don’t have any aura to speak of. Yet this man’s power shines from within, glowing so strongly that it pools around us like a small sun. Confronted with it, I feel lightheaded. I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself. Camphor and rosewood curl into me, weakening me with their charged potency.
The man’s thick, dark eyebrows furrow. His lips purse tightly, revealing a ghost of a dimple in clean-shaven cheeks. The unsettling, piercing gaze of his deep-brown eyes pins me into stillness. Anger burns in that gaze, and beyond that something more chilling.Hate.
A panic overtakes me. I am gripped by terror again, this one shriller than the one I felt for those snarling creatures.
Of course I know who he is.
I recognize his power. It is apparent in the way he carries himself.
“Who are you?” Kaushika growls, shaking me. “And what are you doing here?”
ALLICAN THINK OF IN THE MOMENT IS THIS IS THE MAN WHOkilled my sisters. The man who is the cause of so much suffering in Amaravati. The man standing between me and Rambha.
Did he see me cast the illusion on the jewels before? Does he already understand I am an apsara? Is this to be my end—even before I truly begin my mission? In my mind’s eye, Indra gives me an assessing look, as though to gauge whether I am up to this task. Rambha says,She does not even know the most useful mudras.The lord’s smile flickers as he commands me to go on this mission anyway.
I realize my fingers are still caught in Kaushika’s large hands. He lets go of me in the same instant but does not step back. He opens hismouth again, perhaps to repeat his question, but I recall the reverberation that shook the forest before the roars of the wild creatures. That was surely a magical chant, a mantra of great power. I speak before he has a chance to utter another one.
