CHAPTER FOURTEEN

They spent the rest of the day in the fortress library.

Meera had staked out a corner on the second gallery — a desk near the window where the silver light fell cleanly on the pages and she could see both the main floor and the staircase. Old habits from years of library research: always sit where you can see who's coming.

Aisha had gathered everything she could find on Naga bonds, Gandharva poisons, and the history of political assassinations in Chhaya Lok. The stack of texts — scrolls, bound manuscripts, loose pages in faded ink — covered the entire desk and spilled onto the floor.

Meera read for hours.

The Naga-Bandhu bond, she learned, was one of the oldest and most powerful connections in Chhaya Lok. Unlike the Gandharva-human relationships — which were transactional, built on bargains and debts — the Naga bond was organic. It grew like a root system, deepening over years, until the Naga and their human partner were so intertwined that one could feel the other's heartbeat from a hundred miles away.

Severing the bond was supposed to be impossible.

And yet someone had done it.

She found a text — old, written in a script she could barely read, but Aisha translated — that described a theoretical poison called Naag-Visarjan. Serpent Release. A compound that could dissolve the bond between Naga and Bandhu, cutting the connection so quickly that the Naga wouldn't sense the attack until it was too late.

The ingredients were obscure — plants and minerals from the deep south, places Meera had never heard of. But one ingredient caught her eye.

Gandharva blood.

"The poison requires Gandharva blood," she said to Aisha. "That means a Gandharva had to be involved."

Aisha nodded slowly. "The Gandharva healer from Regan's entourage."

"Who fled the fortress the night Tara died."

"Meera, even if that's true, we can't prove Regan ordered it. The healer could have been acting alone."

"Why would a Gandharva healer want to kill a Nag-Bandhu?"

Aisha was quiet for a long time. Then: "Power. The Nag-Bandhu is the most powerful human in the realm. Whoever controls the Naga controls the balance of power between the kingdoms. If Tara was removed..."

"The balance shifts. And whoever fills the vacuum — whoever becomes the next Nag-Bandhu, or whoever controls the court without one — gains enormous power."

"But no one has become Nag-Bandhu since Tara. Takshak retreated to the lakes. The position has been empty for two years."

"Until now." Meera touched her pendant. "Until me."

Aisha stared at her. "You think that's why Takshak came to you? Not just because of the Chhaya-Bandhu bond, but because the realm needs a Nag-Bandhu?"

"I think the realm needs balance. And I think whoever killed Tara didn't plan for her Prakash-Bandhu to show up two years later with the same face and the same connection to the Naga."

Clever,* Takshak murmured. *Very clever.

"We need to find that Gandharva healer," Meera said. "And we need to find out exactly what Regan's role was."

"Finding the healer means going south." Aisha's expression was troubled. "To Suryanagar. Regan's territory."

"Then we go south."

"Meera, you don't understand. Suryanagar is not like Devgarh. It's warmer, yes, but the politics are..." She searched for the word. "Serpentine."

"Appropriate, given the circumstances."

"I'm serious. Regan has been consolidating power for years. She has allies among the Gandharvas, the southern lords, even some of the Ashwini. If she's behind Tara's murder — and I'm not saying she is — then going to her territory is walking into the tiger's mouth."

"I have a Naga."

"Tara had a Naga too. And she still died."

The words landed hard. Meera sat back and stared at the stack of ancient texts, the painted cosmos on the ceiling, the silver light filtering through stone.

"Then we go prepared," she said. "Not as investigators. Not as accusers." She looked at Aisha. "As diplomats. You're from the southern alliance. Your aunt is the queen. You have reason to visit."

"And you?"

"I'm Tara's Prakash-Bandhu, newly arrived in Chhaya Lok, paying my respects to my sister's stepmother." She smiled grimly. "What could be more natural?"

Aisha studied her for a long moment. Then something shifted in her expression — a decision made, a line crossed.

"Tara would have loved this plan," she said. "She always said the best weapon was the one your enemy didn't see coming."

"Then let's be invisible."

---

That evening, Meera found Vikram in the courtyard, sitting on a stone bench near the forge. The fortress blacksmith had gone for the day, but the coals still glowed, and Vikram was staring at them with the expression of a man who was most at home near fire.

"You're planning something," he said without looking up.

"How did you know?"

"You have that look. The same one you had when you drove across three states to find my brother." He turned to face her. "What are you planning?"

She told him. The Gandharva healer. The Naag-Visarjan poison. Regan. The plan to travel south.

Vikram listened without interrupting. When she finished, he was quiet for a long time.

"You know I can't go with you," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I have no standing in this world. I'm not from Chhaya Lok. I'm a blacksmith from Himachal Pradesh who crosses dimensions to visit his brother. The courts here tolerate me because of Arjun, but I have no title, no authority, no magic."

"You have common sense, which is more than most people here seem to have."

He almost smiled. "Flattering. But Regan won't be impressed by common sense. She'll be impressed by power — and you have that now, whether you like it or not. You're Nag-Bandhu. Takshak follows you. That makes you one of the most powerful people in this realm."

"I've been here for three days."

"And in three days, you've acquired a Naga, gained the Maharaja's reluctant protection, and started an investigation that no one else had the courage to pursue." He looked at her steadily. "You're not the same woman who drove up to my forge three days ago."

"I'm exactly the same woman. I'm just angrier."

"Anger is useful." He stood. "Take Aisha. Take Takshak. And take this."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small cloth bundle. Inside was a knife — not the flint blade he'd carried through the gate, but something finer. The handle was carved bone, yellowed with age, and the blade was a metal she didn't recognise — dark, almost black, with a faint shimmer.

"What is this?"

"Nag-dhar. Serpent's edge. It's made from a Naga's shed scale, forged in the deep lakes. One of the very few metals that can harm a Gandharva." He pressed it into her hand. "Tara carried one. She never used it."

The knife was warm in her hand — not body heat but something else, something that pulsed gently against her palm.

"Did you make this?"

"No. Takshak's previous Bandhu made it, generations ago. I found it in a market in Devgarh two years ago. I've been keeping it for..." He paused. "I don't know what I was keeping it for. Now I do."

"Thank you, Vikram."

He nodded once, gruff, uncomfortable with gratitude. Then he turned back to the forge and its dying coals.

"Meera."

She paused.

"Be careful." His voice was rough. "These courts — they're not like anything you've dealt with. Everyone smiles. Everyone is polite. And everyone has a blade behind their back."

"Sounds like the faculty lounge at Fergusson College."

He snorted. "Something like that. But with higher stakes."

---