CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Maharaja's court convened the next morning, and Meera stood in the centre of the North Hall with the weight of a hundred stares pressing against her skin like sunburn.

Maharaja Pratap Singh sat on his throne, his dark eyes scanning the room with the patience of a man who had spent decades measuring the intentions of others. Beside him, his queen — a regal woman with silver-streaked hair pulled back in a severe bun, wearing a deep maroon sari and a strand of pearls that caught the lamplight — rose to her feet.

"Friends and honoured guests." Queen Padmini's voice was clear, musical, pitched to carry without shouting. "This is a family matter. The Maharaja requests privacy. We will return to regular audience shortly."

The courtiers shuffled out — humans in rough-spun tunics and leather, a contingent of tall, sharp-eared Gandharvas in silks so fine they moved like water, a group of pale-skinned traders from the south with their massive bearded guard. Every one of them stared at Meera as they passed.

When the hall was empty save for the family, Meera found herself standing between Arjun — who hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd entered — and Vikram, who stood against the wall like a man waiting for a building to collapse.

And behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her clothes, stood a man she hadn't met before.

He was nearly seven feet tall. His skin was the deep brown of river-washed teak, and his eyes — gold, slit-pupilled, and burning with an inner light — were fixed on her with an intensity that made the hair on her arms rise.

He'd appeared an hour ago.

She'd been in the courtyard, standing under a scrubby apple tree and trying to figure out how to eat an apple while her entire world collapsed around her, when the air changed. The temperature spiked. The horses bolted. The chickens scattered. And every person in the courtyard looked up.

The sound came first — a low, resonant vibration that she felt in her chest before she heard it, like the deepest note of a temple bell struck from the inside. Then a shadow passed over the courtyard, and she saw it.

A Naga.

Not the small stone carvings she'd seen on temple walls. Not the decorative motifs carved into Vikram's cottage beams. A living Naga — vast, sinuous, its body the colour of dark emerald, its hood spread wide enough to block the grey sky. Scales caught the pewter light and threw it back in iridescent flashes of green and gold, and the creature's eyes — enormous, gold, ancient — found Meera with the precision of a laser.

Nag-Bandhu.

The voice had come from inside her skull. Not sound — thought. A presence in her mind, warm and enormous, like sinking into water that was exactly blood temperature.

"Takshak," she'd whispered, and the Naga had lowered its great head to the courtyard stones, its hood folding, its body contracting until the massive serpent was gone and in its place stood the man who now stood behind her in the throne room.

In human form, Takshak was terrifying and beautiful in equal measure. His hair was black and fell to his waist, braided with gold thread. He wore leather armour the colour of dark jade, and at his throat, a shimmer of green-gold light flickered — the same light that had glowed beneath his scales.

He hadn't spoken aloud since he'd arrived. But his voice in her mind was constant — a low, steady presence that felt like a heartbeat.

The chief is deciding your fate. Say nothing.

She didn't think she could project her thoughts back to him the way she could with... whoever. But something in the bond between them — and it was a bond, she could feel it like a root growing in her chest — told her he could sense her emotions.

Right now, her emotions were a riot.

"So," the Maharaja said. "The Naga has returned."

Takshak's voice rumbled through the hall — not the telepathic whisper but his actual voice, deep and resonant and carrying the weight of centuries. "I felt my lady's presence."

"Meera is not your lady." Arjun's voice was rough. "Tara was your lady."

"I know who my lady is, Arjun of Moray."

A muscle jumped in Arjun's jaw. "She's from Prakash Lok. She can't be Nag-Bandhu."

"And yet she is." Takshak's gold eyes didn't blink. "How that came to be is for human minds to puzzle over. She is my lady now."

Meera turned to him. "What does that mean?" she whispered.

I am your Naga, Lady Meera. I will protect you with my life. No being — human, Gandharva, or otherwise — shall harm you while I draw breath.

That was... intense.

"How are you my Naga when we've never even met?"

I will explain later.

Vikram spoke from the wall. "The kelpie and the unicorns."

"What about them?" Aisha leaned forward.

"She was touched by magic yesterday. A kelpie in the mountain lake attacked her on the way through the Seemant, and the Gandharvas healed her." Vikram looked at Takshak. "That's when you felt her. Yesterday. When the magic of this place first touched her."

Takshak inclined his head toward Vikram. Then he turned back to Meera.

Forgive me, Nag-Bandhu, for not coming sooner. When Tara died, I retreated to the deep lakes. I have been sleeping beneath the mountains for two years, and your presence woke me. Do you want me to destroy the kelpie? I will hunt it and leave its bones at the bottom of the lake as an offering to the water spirits.

"That's really okay," she whispered, patting his arm. "No bones needed."

"Whatever Meera is," Vikram said, "she can't be entirely of our world. Not if she can hear Nagas."

Meera glared at him.

He shrugged.

"My lady's arrival has already reached the court of Raja Devendra," Takshak said aloud. "The Raja is preparing a party to travel north. I will remain with my lady until he arrives."

Arjun sat up. "Meera was born in Prakash Lok. She doesn't belong here, and she's not safe. People are already asking questions about her connection to Tara. She needs to go back with Vikram."

"Lachlan's Brightkin—" Vikram started.

"Stop calling me that," Arjun snapped.

"Fine. My brother's twin from the other world is right about the danger but wrong about the solution. She has a Naga now. She's safer here than she would be driving back to Pune on NH3."

"She's not safe if whoever killed Tara is still in this fortress!"

The words rang through the hall like a struck bell.

Silence.

Aisha gasped.

The Maharaja's face went dark. "That is a rumour," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "A cruel, vile rumour."

It is not a rumour,* Takshak whispered in Meera's mind. *The gruff human is correct.

Queen Padmini rose. "My lord. My lord Takshak. This is a family matter that requires calm discussion, not accusations." She turned to Meera, and her expression softened. "Carys — forgive me. Meera. You are Tara's sister. To see your face again is a happiness I could not have imagined. You will always be welcome in my home."

"Thank you, Rani-ji."

"Raja Devendra is coming. He is Meera's uncle — Tara's father. We should wait until he arrives before any decisions are made." Padmini looked at her husband. "Meera, what do you want?"

It was the first time anyone in this world had asked her that.

"I want to stay," Meera said. "Until my uncle arrives. And I want to find out who killed my sister."

Pratap Singh's jaw clenched. His eyes swept from Meera to Takshak to Vikram to Arjun.

"She stays," he said finally. "Until we have answers."

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