The soldiers at the head of the caravan circled around the carriage as it came to a stop in front of the elaborate home that had become my temporary headquarters. Placing my hands on the carved railing, I leaned over and called out to Kadam’s soldiers asking if there had been any incidents on the journey. They replied that the trip had been as easy as slipping into a hot bath, something the eldest soldier and leader, a man nearly ready to retire from the military, said he looked forward to.
As I assured him that food, rest, and a comfortable place to wash the dust of the road from off their feet was waiting for them, there was a flutter of curtains and I saw the retreat of a delicate hand disappear into the dark space within the carriage. Cursing myself for not being at the door to meet her immediately, I spun and leapt down the flight of stairs as quickly as I could and darted to the carriage just as one of the soldiers offered his arm to assist her.
Running a nervous hand through my hair, I affixed what I hoped was a charming smile to my face and waited for her to turn towards me. She was easily two heads shorter than myself and she was so swathed in fabric that I had no idea as to her shape or form. Seeing that she wore veils of sapphire blue, my favorite color, I took that as a good sign and said, “Greetings, lovely Yesubai. I am honored to meet you.”
I bowed my head until I sensed she’d turned towards me and then lifted my gaze to meet hers. They were the most astonishing eyes I’d ever seen—a startling shade of lavender so bright they reminded me of one of my mother’s coveted pinkish purple roses. Though a veil covered her face, it was sheer enough that I could see the curve of her cheek, her generous mouth, and her pert chin.
Despite the fact that I knew it was overly assertive, I couldn’t help myself, and took her hand in mine, pressing my lips to her slim fingers. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” I said warmly as my eyes caught hers again over the knuckles of her hand.
“I, too, am glad to be here,” she answered in a soft, but distantly polite manner.
Too politically practiced to allow the wince over my careless blunder coupled with her barely lukewarm greeting to show on my face, I squeezed her fingers lightly, dropped her hand, and clasped mine behind my back and shifted several steps away. I’d assumed too much too quickly and had obviously frightened her. Perhaps she wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of marriage as much as I was.
It was also probable that the idea of being near a man was alarming to her. I was good enough at reading body language to know that she considered me a perfect stranger, and one she didn’t trust yet, but I was determined that I’d do everything in my power to show her I was worthy of earning it. And somehow I’d make up for approaching her like an untrained, exuberant puppy.
“Would you prefer to rest? I can have food brought to you if you would rather dine alone,” I offered as we walked.
She considered my words for a moment and then answered, “No. I think I’d rather take my meals with the household.”
Nodding my head slightly to acknowledge her words, I considered not just what she said but how she’d said it. I didn’t get the sense that she particularly wanted to eat with me but she felt it was her duty. The last thing I wanted was to force a woman to become my bride who considered marriage to me an obligation. I wanted love. Maybe this wasn’t going to work.
“We’ll take our meal in an hour then.”
She nodded and I signaled the women I’d employed to see to her needs during her stay. They rushed forward and bustled her off to her suite of rooms to see to her comfort. Sighing heavily, disappointment weighing on me but refusing to allow it to snuff out the hope I’d felt earlier, I resolved to give it and her some time and met with Kadam’s soldiers as I waited for her return.
Dinner was a quiet affair with me doing most of the talking and her answering with brief words and barely discernable nods. My frustration mounted. This wasn’t what I wanted. The girl I imagined spending the rest of my life with would have more fire, more passion, more…boldness. I wanted someone who would stand up for themselves. Who wouldn’t be cowed simply because I was a man or the heir to a throne.
That night after dinner I paced the rooftop, wondering what I should do. Should I send her back? Tell my mother she’d been mistaken in her choice? It was true that she was lovely and she was well spoken, but that wasn’t enough. Was it wrong to want more?
The moon suddenly broke from the clouds and I spotted Yesubai on the balcony below. She wore a gossamer gown of white with bell sleeves. Her shining face was free of veils and her dark hair hung loose, the ends of it nearly touching the ground. Strands of the thick stuff blew in the breeze. Again I was struck by her loveliness. As I stood there watching her, I saw her lift her hand to her cheek and swipe it. She did this over and over and though I couldn’t hear a sound, I knew she was crying.
Was the idea of marrying me that awful? Did she feel trapped? Maybe she thought we’d cast her aside if she didn’t agree to the wedding. Perhaps she would prefer to do something different with her life. She needed to know we’d protect her regardless. I was surprised my mother hadn’t already explained that.
I headed down the steps and out onto her balcony. “Yesubai?” She spun to look at me in alarm. I held up a hand. “I am sorry if I frightened you. I was on the rooftop and heard your crying.” It wasn’t true. She hadn’t made a noise at all, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” I asked.
Her lavender eyes were luminous in the moonlight and she looked like a nervous forest sprite ready to leap over the balcony and fly away at any moment.
“N…nothing is wrong,” she answered finally. I could tell she was distressed that I’d been witness to her tears.
I took a step closer. “I promise you. I have no wish to see you hurt or unhappy. If the idea of becoming my bride is upsetting to you, it is easily remedied.”
The panicked look on her face confused me. “No!” she declared. “I cannot allow you to send me away.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I rubbed my jaw as I studied her, wondering why I seemed to be saying all the wrong things. It wasn’t like me. I tried again. “I only meant that if you have no wish to marry, I will not force you. Nothing has been finalized. You are free to choose.”
“Free.” She blew out a short breath with a half laugh then froze and lifted her eyes to mine before turning her back to me. “If only I was,” she finished.
“You can be,” I said as I closed the distance between us. “Marriage to me isn’t the only way for you to be rid of those who hurt you.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean…” I sensed she didn’t want me to touch her, so, not knowing what to do with my hands, I folded my arms awkwardly across my chest. “I mean our family will protect you regardless.”
“And who will protect you?” Her words were so soft that I could barely make them out, but when I did, understanding filled me. She was terrified. And not of me.
“Yesubai, I won’t let you come to harm.”
She turned and looked at me then, fully. No hesitancy. No reservation. Nothing hidden. It was like a window to her soul had opened and I saw the person she was. The person she wanted to be. She had a core of strength but it was buried so deeply within her that I wondered if she even knew it was there. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to bridge the distance and peel back the layers she hid behind. Even if it was possible, it would take time and a lot of patience, but I sensed the result would be worth it.
Quietly, I asked, “What do you want, Yesubai?”
She answered with a hesitant murmur, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t understand the question. “I want…” she paused, “I want to be with someone who loves me. I want to live with your family. I want to feel safe.”
I smiled then and offered my open hand. She placed her much smaller one in mine and though her fingers trembled, she didn’t protest when I placed my other hand on top, and squeezed lightly. “I promise
you. I will give you all of those things, if…if that is what you want, Yesubai.”
She looked at our hands and then up at me, searching my face for a moment before saying finally, “It is.”
That was the turning point for me. I had seen the person she wanted to be. The person of strength and fire who lived behind the veils. It would just take a great deal of kindness and patience to bring her out. I decided I could wait for that. I could wait for her to learn to love me. We could postpone a betrothal and even if we did decide to go forward with it, an engagement could last for years. I was confident that over time we would get to know one another and that there was a chance for us to be happy.
When I suggested delaying the betrothal the following day, she objected, saying we needed to sign the paperwork before she returned. It took me several hours of plying her with carefully worded questions before she admitted that it was her father that insisted upon the union. She absolutely believed that if she left without an agreement from me, he would cause great suffering.
I knew that her father was a clever and wily military leader and that he had manipulated his way into a kingdom, but now I also knew that he was the one responsible for terrorizing his daughter. That knowledge burned inside me, especially knowing that there was no immediate recourse to deal with him as he deserved. I would have to move carefully where he was concerned.
The important thing was keeping Yesubai safe and out of his reach. Taking revenge rashly or moving against the one who hurt her could undermine everything we were working to accomplish. Lokesh would terminate the betrothal at the very least and then use the excuse that we’d insulted him and his family to rain war down upon our heads at the most. I needed to think like the diplomat I’d been trained to be and curb the fire within my warrior’s heart until the time was right.
Despite the political advantages our union would bring, I didn’t want Yesubai to think that I desired a match with her simply to make peace between our kingdoms or even to protect her, though both of those reasons were valid. I told her that I looked forward to being a husband and pledged that I’d try my best to make a good one. Above all else I wanted her to be happy. When I said as much, she seemed to take me at my word and relaxed a bit more.
We spent a few days together and I was delighted that she wanted to be at my side as I visited the troops and met with city leaders. She remained shrouded in veils and was as quiet and as still as a statue, but I could see her bright eyes watching me as I spoke and she appeared to be alert and interested in everything she saw and experienced.
Hope bloomed within me again and I thought perhaps all was not lost. On several occasions I caught her staring at me, at the exposed bare skin of my upper chest and throat in particular, and I wondered if that meant she might be as attracted to me as I was to her.
I found myself smiling more often. I’d even penned a poem not about my mysterious dream girl but about the real girl with the long, black hair and shining face, who stood in the moonlight on the balcony with silver tears running down her cheeks. Though I never heard her laugh or discovered her favorite food, she did grace me with a beautiful smile or two and I counted myself lucky.
Before she left, I felt confident that we would be a good match and when I asked her once again if she was sure, she replied, “Becoming a Rajaram is all I could wish for.” At her urging, the papers were brought in and we made our betrothal official. I knew my mother would be pleased and I was as well. Seeing her leave was difficult. We’d barely had time to begin the long process of getting to know one another.
I knew I needed to move carefully and slowly with her, so I only attempted the most courteous, the barest, of gestures and touched my lips briefly to the back of her hand, longing for the day when she’d be comfortable enough to allow me to hold her in my arms, and bid her farewell.
As I watched the caravan leave, I wondered at my newly betrothed state. We would be apart for much longer than I wanted. If there was anything I’d learned about Yesubai in the short time we’d spent together, it was that she needed constant coaxing, much like a hesitant mare, and I worried that the tenuous steps forward we’d made would be for naught if we were separated too long. It would be far too easy to let the fragile relationship we’d begun backslide to the cold distance we’d experienced at first meeting.
That was when I decided I’d write to her. Every day if necessary. If I couldn’t be with her in person, I’d bare my soul to her on the page. Then, perhaps, when we met again, we’d feel that the distance between our hearts wasn’t so hard to bridge after all.
sneak peek from
Tiger’s Dream
Prologue
Embers
Her wild heart raced, pounding chaotically like the stream she’d paused at. Her thin limbs trembled and as moonlight cut across her form, I could see her pulse throb and her eyes flick back and forth, alert to danger. I watched her from the shadows of the trees, a black specter intent upon her demise. After sticking her nose in the air one last time, she nervously lowered her head for a drink.
I sprung from my hiding place and tore through grass and brush, eating up the distance like a shooting star. My claws scraped against a gnarled root thrusting up through the ground like the arm of a rising skeleton and she heard the noise.
Bounding swiftly, the deer jerked to the left. I leapt, but my teeth caught only the thick fur of her winter coat. She let out a frightened squeal of alarm. Charging after her, my blood raced and I felt more alive than I had in months.
I pounced again and this time wrapped my claws around her heaving torso in a deadly embrace. She struggled beneath me, bucking as best she could as I bit her neck. Sinking my teeth in, I clamped down on her windpipe. Crushing it would suffocate her and I believed it was a gentler, more humane way to hunt but, suddenly, I felt as if I was the one slowly asphyxiating.
The exhilaration I felt when I hunted leeched away and I was left once again with the emptiness that constantly threatened to consume me. It smothered and choked, killing me unhurriedly in the same manner as I was taking the life of this creature.
I opened my jaws and lifted my head. Sensing a change, the deer lunged into the creek knocking me off her back in the process. As she disappeared into the undergrowth, cold water washed over my thick fur and for a moment I wished I could just breathe it in and let go. Let go of my memories. Let go of my disappointment. Let go of my dreams.
If only I believed death would be so kind.
Gradually, I made my way out of the stream. My paws were as caked with mud as my thoughts. Disheartened, I shook the water out of my fur and was futilely trying to get the mud out from between my claws when I heard a woman’s laugh.
I whipped my head up and saw Anamika crouching on the limb of a tree, the golden bow across her shoulder and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back.
“That was the most pathetic hunt I’ve ever seen,” she mocked.
I growled softly but she ignored the warning and continued making comments.
“You chose the weakest creature in the forest and you still couldn’t bring her down. What kind of tiger are you?”
She nimbly hopped down from the thick branch. Anamika wore her green dress and as she strode towards me I was momentarily distracted by her long legs, but then she opened her mouth again.
She put her hands on her hips and said, “If you’re hungry, I can bring down your meal for you, seeing as you’re too weak to do it yourself.”
Grunting, I turned my back on her and loped off in the other direction but she quickly caught up to me, matching my speed even as I darted through the trees. When I realized there was no shaking her, I halted and switched forms.
As a man I spun to her and bellowed in annoyance, “Why do you insist upon shadowing me, Anamika? Isn’t it enough that I’m stuck here with you day in and day out?”
She narrowed her gaze. “I am as much stuck,” she rolled the word across her tongue since it was fairly new to her, “here with you as you are with
me. The difference is that I do not waste my life away yearning for something I shall never have!”
“You know nothing about what I yearn for!”
She raised an eyebrow at this and I knew what she was thinking. In reality she knew everything I yearned for. Being the tiger of Durga meant that the two of us shared a bond, a mental connection that linked us every time we assumed the form of Durga and Damon. We tried to give each other space but we both knew much more about one another than we were willing to talk about.
I knew she missed her brother, terribly. She also hated taking on the role of Durga. Power didn’t interest her which actually made her the perfect choice to rule as a goddess. She would never abuse the weapons or use the Damon Amulet for selfish purposes. That was something I admired about her, though I’d never admit it.
There were other things I’d noticed that I’d come to respect in the past six months. Anamika was fair and wise in resolving disputes, always thought of others before herself, and she wielded weapons better than most men I knew. She deserved a companion who supported her and helped make her burden easier. That was supposed to be my job, but instead I often wallowed in self-pity. I was about to apologize when she started pushing my buttons again.
“Believe it or not, I am not following you around to make your life unpleasant. I am simply assuring that you do not hurt yourself. Your thoughts are continuously distracted which means you put your well being at risk.”
“Hurt myself? Hurt myself! I can’t be hurt, Anamika!”