Tiger's Promise Page 5

  “I understand.”

  “Ah. There’s your father’s man. I’ll leave you in his care then. Until we meet again, lovely lady.”

  The king squeezed my hand and reluctantly gave me over to Hajari, who took my arm in a bruising grip. “Where have you been?” he hissed in my ear.

  “No one came to collect me this morning,” I replied coldly.

  “Your father is waiting for you. Come.”

  He dragged me down the hall and through several passageways, relishing the opportunity to show me he was in charge, though both of us knew it was only temporary. Sure enough, his demeanor entirely changed the moment we entered the room where my father sat surrounded by the late king’s advisors. When he saw me, he dismissed the group.

  “Did you sleep well, my dear?” he inquired politely as the last of the men left and closed the door behind them.

  “Yes, Father,” I answered with my gaze trained on his feet.

  “I suppose you heard of the king’s demise,” he said, and from his tone, I couldn’t tell if he meant it as a question or a statement. I decided it was best to say nothing.

  He waited for a few seconds and then confirmed what I already suspected. “Tragic, isn’t it? Of course, you are aware of what this might mean for you.”

  “That I’m not to be married after all?” I ventured quietly.

  “Oh, you will be married, Yesubai, but not to the geriatric king you so obviously prefer.” He turned away and strode back to the king’s table, where a large map was spread out. He picked up a figurine of a warrior on the back of an elephant and moved it to another location across a heavy black line drawn upon the map. The territory was marked with the word Rajaram. I glanced away before he looked up at me again.

  “You should be happy,” he said. “My intention is that you marry someone much younger. And then, once you are a queen and a little time has passed, I’ll expect you to kill him.” Startled, I looked up and found him peering at me, a devilish gleam in his eye. “To see that you fulfil your part in this little drama, I’ll be keeping Isha within arm’s length. Do you understand my expectations?” he finished.

  After I blinked the moisture from my eyes, I nodded slightly and answered, “Yes, Father.”

  “Very good. You may leave. We will be residing here until the proper arrangements are made for your betrothal.”

  —

  It took all of a month for my father to reluctantly ascend to the throne. He kept Isha away from me to insure my compliance. The maids assigned to me were efficient but cold, and Hajari became a constant at my side. Not once did he let me out of his sight. My room was considered too easy to escape and new quarters were assigned to me. There was only one door in and out of my new chamber, and since the dignitaries had all been sent packing, my father was content to leave me there.

  My meals were brought in, and I was permitted one walk of the grounds per day and that was only if Hajari was with me. Since I knew being alone with Hajari would only result in a probable assault on my person, I determined that staying in my room was preferable. Without Isha, the only friendly face in my very limited world, I despaired. Food lost its appeal, and I kept the heavy curtains drawn over my barred window.

  Then an invitation arrived. The Rajaram family had considered my father’s offer despite the unveiled threats behind it, and the queen herself said she would like to meet me to ascertain if I would be a good match for her son. My father was thrilled at the prospect. He had been distracted with the duties of running the kingdom, but when the courier arrived, he couldn’t wait to share the news and had me brought to him immediately. He wasn’t pleased with my appearance.

  “Have you been ill?” he questioned.

  “No, Father.”

  Roughly, he yanked the veil away from my face and narrowed his eyes as he cupped my chin, turning my head one way and another to study me. Shoving me aside, he cornered Hajari and wrapped a hand around the man’s throat. His eyes bulged, and he wheezed as he scratched feebly at my father’s hand. “You will see to it that she eats, that her hair is brushed and oiled until it shines, and that there is not a mark on her face, or puffiness under her eyes. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, my King,” Hajari coughed out.

  “Good.” He let his servant down and added, “She leaves in three days. See to it she’s ready. I want her adorned as a princess. Now, go. I must speak to her alone.”

  Hajari, whose throat was now swollen and red, retreated without a word and shut the door behind him.

  My father said, “Now then. There are a few things I think we should discuss before you leave.”

  —

  Dread filled me when the palace of the Rajaram family came into view. I was in the middle of a large caravan, riding in an opulent carriage, and I was dressed as if I were a great queen already. My father had spared no expense in presenting his deadly little gift to the Rajaram family. Inside a trunk full of sumptuous silk dresses and veils was a hidden compartment packed with bottles of poison and sharpened knives small enough to slip inside a pocket.

  I knew the consequences should I fail. My father had made it perfectly clear to me. I was to please Dhiren, the eldest, marry him, discover the secret whereabouts of his family heirlooms, steal them, and kill him. Until that time, I was to spy on the Rajaram family.

  If I didn’t do what my father wanted, he would torture Isha. I twisted the little lock of Isha’s grey hair in my pocket. He’d given it to me as a reminder that I needed to fulfill my duty. In fact, he’d been so specific about the methods he’d use to hurt my nursemaid that I had no doubt that he’d not only done it before but would relish the opportunity to do so again.

  My stomach clenched painfully, knowing that I had agreed to become a secret assassin and a spy for the sick, depraved man my father was, but the consequences should I fail were unthinkable. I couldn’t allow my beloved Isha to suffer at his hands. I didn’t know if I could commit murder to save her, but there was no doubt I owed her for protecting me from him. Every time I saw her, the limp she had reminded me that it was my fault she suffered, my fault she stayed in his employ. I wouldn’t leave her in his hands.

  When we arrived at the palace, I was introduced, and each person I met seemed open and kind. Hajari had come with me and tried to insert himself as my so-called protector, but thankfully the military advisor, a shrewd man who seemed to see right through my veil to the secrets hidden within my heart, assigned his own man as well. He was wise to do so. Hajari’s actions were severely curtailed with a Rajaram soldier constantly nearby.

  I didn’t meet Deschen until dinner that evening. The queen was the epitome of poise. She watched me from the other side of the table and asked polite questions about my home and family. She interpreted my guarded answers as a case of my being shy. After dinner she called me to her private chamber and bade me sit at her side. Women of all ages surrounded her and chatted happily while they sewed.

  When she saw I was reluctant to talk about myself, she spoke of her distant family, of her homeland, and of her sons. Her love for her family was obvious, as was the fact that she was fiercely protective of her children. She seemed surprised when I asked about her younger son but was very willing to share stories of his youth. I soon learned that Kishan had been sent out to the borderlands and would likely return within the month and that Dhiren wasn’t expected for some time. Deschen said she wanted to get to know me first before the decision regarding a betrothal would be made.

  Every day I was given leave to wander the palace grounds, always with my two escorts, and every evening I spent with Deschen. It didn’t take long for me to admire Kishan’s mother. She fascinated me almost as much as her son did. It was clear that there was a great love between Deschen and her husband. When it was time to retire, the emperor came to fetch his wife. Together they bid good night to all the widowed women she’d taken in.

  The women, whose husbands had died in the war, were fiercely loyal to the Rajaram family, and I felt b
uoyed by just hearing their stories. I wondered if there might be a way to save Isha. She would flourish as one of the queen’s women. I was just beginning to feel at home and safe when my father paid me a visit.

  A desperate nightmare woke me. My arms prickled with gooseflesh, and I noticed that the shutters were open, the curtains billowing in the breeze. I’d just gotten up to close them when I heard a voice. “You look well, my dear.”

  Freezing in place, I instinctively lowered my head. “Father,” I said.

  “How are things progressing? Has the family accepted you?”

  “I believe they have.”

  “Then what is taking so long? Why have I heard nothing about a betrothal?”

  “The queen is still considering me. Besides, both princes are away.”

  “Yes. I’m keeping them busy.”

  “But why? I thought we wanted them here.”

  He moved so quickly I wasn’t prepared. My father thrust me up against the wall with his forearm at my throat. “What did you say?” he asked, his dark eyes glittering in the moonlight.

  “I apologize,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to question you.”

  “Remember your place,” he hissed.

  I nodded, cursing myself for being so reckless. My time away from my father had made me complacent.

  “I don’t need to explain my actions to you. Still, should the queen mention the skirmishes keeping her sons away, you may assure her that you have enough influence over your father to stop them should they agree to the uniting of our families. Have you seen the medallions I asked you to find?”

  “No. Neither the queen nor the king wears them on their person. The military advisor does not allow me or Hajari to move about the grounds without one of his men present.”

  My father muttered, “I should have had that Kadam killed.” When I said nothing, he took a step back, finally releasing me from his hold on my neck, and said, “Do you know the reason I seek those medallions?”

  “No,” I answered carefully. “I only need to know that you want them.”

  “That is right.” He seemed pleased with my answer. Tilting his head, he considered me for a moment, then said, “Perhaps, my dear Yesubai, it is time for you to understand exactly who you are.”

  I felt the oxygen leave my lungs. “What do you mean?”

  “Yes. If you know my motivations, you’ll understand how best to serve me.” Turning, he clasped his hands behind his back and began. “You are the daughter of a very powerful man, and I don’t mean politically.” He strolled around the room fingering various objects that belonged to the royal family as he did so. “I was once the heir to a throne of a large province in a land far away from here.” He turned back to me. “Even though I had to kill my brother and my step-mother to ascend to the throne, I gave it up.”

  That he’d killed to accomplish his goals wasn’t surprising, but walking away from a throne was. “You didn’t want that power?” I questioned.

  “Ruling a kingdom isn’t power,” he spat as he looked down his nose at me. “This is real power.” He pulled a chain around his neck and showed me a broken amulet attached to the end.

  “What is it?”

  “It is called the Damon Amulet.”

  “Is that a tiger?”

  “How very clever of you, my dear.” He rubbed his thumb over the amulet with an almost affectionate expression. He murmured quietly, as if lost in thought, “A very long time ago there was a great battle that united the kingdoms of Asia. A demon had appeared. He ravaged the countryside, and finally his atrocities became too horrible to be ignored. Five kingdoms gathered to defeat the monster once and for all.”

  My father had never told me anything about his past. Most of what I knew I’d gleaned from bits and pieces I’d overheard. I was fascinated and horrified at the same time.

  He continued, “On the eve of their defeat, a goddess beautiful and horrible rode in to lead them on her tiger, named Damon.” Smiling secretively, he tapped the tiger claws on the medallion. “When the demon was finally dead, she gifted each kingdom with a piece of the amulet. Soon it was discovered that the amulet pieces controlled the elements—each segment governing one. It is said that if the amulet is ever reassembled, its bearer will wield the power of the goddess herself.”

  It explained so much—the blue fire I’d seen at his fingertips, the water spilling from the mouth of the man who’d dared touch me, the small tremors in the ground whenever he was angry, the fierce winds he’d summoned in the garden, and the untimely death of the king. This was what drove my father. This was what he sought. And somehow, a portion of this power he’d gathered had been passed on through his blood. My abilities were gifts from a goddess.

  He smiled as if taunting a child with a toy. “You can see there are two missing pieces.”

  “These are the pieces I’m looking for?”

  “Yes. Once the amulet is made whole, there won’t be anything or anyone I can’t control. I will be invincible. And if you’re very lucky, you’ll live to bask in my glory. It won’t be the same as if you were a son, but I never close myself off to new…opportunities.” He cupped my chin in his hand, his grip tight. “If only you had a bit of fire in your blood.”

  A son? Who would he...? Deschen. She was the woman he lusted for.

  “But Deschen might be past her childbearing years.”

  “Yes. That is a possibility,” he admitted. “This is why I’m entertaining the notion of allowing you to marry one of the princes. If I cannot have a son to mold in my image, perhaps a grandson will do.”

  The idea that my father could become even more powerful was astonishing. Everything made sense. The reason I’d been sent. The skirmishes with the Rajaram family. It was all to get those amulets and to wrest Deschen from her family.

  Now that I knew my father’s true motivation, it was even more imperative that I hide my abilities. If he knew what I could do, he’d mold me and my progeny into what he was—a murderous, power-hungry, vessel of evil. The weaker and more docile I appeared to be, the less he would see me, and the less he saw, the less villainy he’d expect me to participate in.

  “You know what I expect,” he said. “You have two weeks to either announce your betrothal or find those medallions. For every day after that, I will send you one of Isha’s fingers in a box.”

  Swallowing my horror, my eyes filling with frustrated tears, I murmured, “Yes, Father.”

  When I looked up, he was gone.

  Five

  Betrothed

  Sleep eluded me for the remainder of the night. That my father could gain access to the palace grounds so easily frightened me more than I liked to admit. I despaired, thinking that I would never truly gain any semblance of freedom, that my father’s shadow would haunt me and those around me for the rest of my life.

  Still, knowing that he had gone to such lengths to insert me into the Rajaram household meant there must be a limit to what he could do. The fact that he needed me to accomplish his purpose was an indication that he wasn’t all-powerful. Perhaps, if I was very careful, and very clever, there might be a way to circumvent his plans, but such a betrayal would come with a high price. If I was to move against him, I needed to be absolutely certain of success.

  By the time the sun rose, I was dressed and sought out Deschen. Despite the short time I’d been around her, I sensed that she could be trusted, and if there was one thing I needed to beat my father at his own game, it was a powerful ally.

  I was told that Deschen was in her women’s room and entered without knocking only to find the queen wrapped in the arms of her husband. Of course, I knew I should have left immediately, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

  The emperor was a handsome man, much like his son, Kishan, the man I’d been thinking of for weeks despite my determination not to. Deschen’s husband wore his power like a mantle across his shoulders, and yet he held his wife as tenderly as if she were a precious flower.

  She obviously didn’t
fear him in any way. In fact, she boldly wriggled away when she noticed me and appeared to fear no reprisal whatsoever in rejecting him. Her husband laughed, not at all angry when she pummeled her fists against his chest, and he seemed not even remotely embarrassed to be caught passionately embracing his wife. He moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and politely asked if I’d slept well.

  Though I opened my mouth to reply, no words came to me, and Deschen rescued me from the awkward situation by reminding him that I was shy, especially around men, and that he should cease from making me uncomfortable and go and find something kingly to do.

  “Yes, Hridaya Patni,” he answered affectionately.

  Chuckling, he gave me a wink, kissed his wife on the cheek, and whispered something in her ear, making her smile, before leaving the room.

  When he was gone and she’d made herself comfortable in her favorite chair, she beckoned me closer. Before I’d even taken a step, I blurted, “You love him,” almost as an accusation.

  “Yes.” She smiled and lifted her hand to me. “Is that so shocking?”

  I took a few hesitant steps forward. “Men are…”

  “Men are…what?” She took my hand and gently pulled me down to a pillow near her feet.

  I wrung my hands, wondering how I could finish the sentence without offending her. Finally, I said, “Men are not to be trusted.”

  She laughed softly and then sobered as she studied my expression. Reaching to the side of my head, she raised her eyebrows, asking my permission. At my nod, she carefully detached the veil covering my face and cupped my chin. The gesture was kind and motherly, and though I tried to contain my emotions, tears filled my eyes. For a long minute, she looked at me. “Has a man hurt you, Yesubai?”

  My body shook with little tremors, and when the words eluded me, she said, “Tell me.”

  I knew that I needed to consider every word as if each one would lead to my death and, what was worse, to Isha’s death, but being in her presence made me feel as if hope was a thing I could reach for, as if there might be a happy ending somehow for me. I licked my lips and began to speak, and so intent was our conversation that an hour passed before I paused.