Page 70 of Tiger's Dream
The thread that bound me to her tugged at me forcefully. I sat quickly and just stared at her. When Kelsey cried, it was a wild, messy thing. It was a wet sorrow—purple bruises on the inside and red rage on the outside—and tangled knots of feelings. Her emotions raged in such a way that it was difficult to reel her in and try to soothe her. Afterward, she’d end up utterly spent and would sleep for twelve hours.
With Anamika, her tears were almost ghost-like. She allowed only the barest hint of her feelings to even enter her heart, let alone spill over. It reminded me of a warrior’s tears—an almost shameful, hidden thing that happened in the dark by a campfire. The traces of tears wet the blankets that warriors rolled up in after a wearying, deadly battle.
If it wasn’t for the connection I had with her, the one still open between us after I’d assessed her for injury, I might have wondered if she was even upset at all. The wet paths down her cheeks might have been the glint of moonlight. She was so controlled. So restrained in her grief. But she was grieving. In fact, she was almost drowning in it. I heard the crack of thunder somewhere overhead and lightning hit a tree in the forest.
I didn’t want to feel her pain. Didn’t want to give in to the temptation to comfort her. Not after what she’d done. But almost without meaning to, I stepped closer. She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck. Ana buried her face in my fur and the already muted sounds of her sorrow disappeared altogether. It surprised me that she didn’t automatically close off our connection. In fact, she pressed closer and took all my anger and betrayal into herself. She processed it and accepted it.
Slowly, my fury abated enough that I opened my mind to her thoughts. I could sense the burning in her throat as she swallowed back her sobs. With the lulling stroke of her hand on my back, she at least let me see what had happened through her eyes. Kadam had appeared. I should have guessed as much.
He’d come to her in the hall before she returned to me to tell me the whereabouts of Lady Silkworm. After a lecture on allowing history to unfold the way it was supposed to, he insisted that she prevent me from saving that boy, that I needed to let destiny decide the boy’s fate.
Kadam had been the one who prevented us from changing the horse back to a boy in the stable. He then told her that if I saved the silk maker, then Lady Silkworm would never meet Kelsey, would never guide us on our journey to the dragons. That pulling that one young man out of the fabric of the universe would cause an unraveling that would destroy everything we’d accomplished. His words and demeanor had frightened Ana, filling her with dread regarding his all-too-righteous purpose based on his otherworldly perceptions.
At that moment I wanted to rip into my old mentor and fling him down to hell, or at least to the awful place where Ana and I existed, which was a sort of hell to me. For the long months since Kelsey and Ren left, I felt as if I’d been caught in a terrible limbo where we were wedged somewhere between mortality and immortality, lost in time.
Then I remembered Kadam was trapped in the same awful loop as we were. He was just as much a victim as the two of us. Only now, he actuallywasdead. It was ironic and sad that I could be so angry at a dead man. Every time he appeared to one of us, he was just an echo of the man who was now gone forever. When would his last visit happen? Had it already?
His death had left a giant wound in my heart. Like the hollowed-out space in the ground where a large tree had been uprooted. We’d already grieved for him, but Kadam didn’t truly leave us, not entirely. He had left little scattered seeds behind, and even as we tried to make our own way, we’d stumble over one of his other selves and his impact would be felt once again. I wondered if the grieving over him would ever end.
Trying to avoid the path he wanted us to take was as fruitless as kicking over an anthill. He’d just rebuild or figure out a way to go around us. Whatever the case, I couldn’t blame Anamika for listening to him. Kadam had been her teacher as much as he’d been mine. She trusted him in her way as much as I did. He’d put us on this path together, and no matter what, I wasn’t planning on leaving her to face this strange life alone.
Closing my eyes, I shifted to human form and drew a trembling Ana onto my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck more tightly and I stroked her back. “Shh, Ana. I don’t blame you. Everything will be all right.”
“The silk maker is dead because of my decision,” she whispered against my neck.
“We’ve made hard decisions like that before,” I said, my voice muffled by her hair.
“Yes”—she drew in a shaky breath and lifted her head, looking into my eyes—“but he was just a boy. Not a warrior like the others.”
Thunder boomed overhead again. Wiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb, I said, “You did what you had to do.”
“Did I?” she asked glumly.
Sighing deeply, I answered, “You did. Kadam isn’t a cruel man. If he believes the young man’s death needed to happen, then it needed to happen. Otherwise…” My words trailed off. My attempt to soothe her felt oily and wrong somehow. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Kadam. I did. I believed thathebelieved it needed to happen. I just didn’t know ifIbelieved it yet.
“You question my actions too,” she said.
“No. Not yours.”
“I will speak with you first next time, Sohan,” she said insistently. “I promise you this.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“It was wrong for me to make the choice without you.”
Now that she was more under control, I purposely moved my hands away from her body, placing them on the ground. “You thought I’d stop you,” I said simply.
Ana cocked her head and nodded briskly before standing up and offering me her hand. I took it and glanced at her injured thigh exposed beneath her torn clothing. “It does not matter if you try to stop me or not,” she said. “We agreed to do this together.”
I rose with my hand in hers though I didn’t allow her to take any of my weight. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I said gruffly.
“You did not hurt me any more than I hurt you.”
We began walking back to our home. “I think I hurt you a little more,” I said, lightly teasing her. “I’ll use the kamandal to heal you when we get back.”
“Also I would like a bath and good night’s sleep.”
“Me too.”
