Page 79 of Tiger's Destiny
The girl didn’t look like a Bodha. Her skin was white and unblemished by tattoos. The Lords kept finding reasons to touch her. They held her hand and kissed her fingers. The women were constantly ordered to do one thing or another to make her comfortable. They fluffed her pillows and smoothed her dress. Nobody noticed us. It was almost as if we were invisible.
I took a step forward, but the guard held me back and whispered, “We must wait for the ritual to be finished.”
“What ritual?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head and pressed his finger to his lips. Puzzled, I turned to watch.
One of the Lords leaned toward the girl and said, “It is time, young one.”
The other brother sat up and clapped his hands. Servants entered carrying a rectangular object draped with a silky material. The Lords of the Flame stood, gently pulled the young girl to her feet, and led her toward it.
One of the Lords pulled off the silk covering to reveal a shining mirror and explained, “This mirror belonged to our beloved Lawala. We were promised that one day she would return to us.”
The other man took over. “We ask you to gaze upon your reflection. If you are indeed our Lawala, you will assume your true form and we will rejoice together. If you are merely a girl sacrificed to the smoking mountains above, your body will change. You will become Bodha, a citizen of light.” He kissed her hand and added, “If you are my Lawala, you must choose me.”
“If she is Lawala, she will recognize me as the one she loves,” the other brother replied darkly.
The girl seemed frightened at his abrupt tone, but when he noticed, his expression lightened.
“Are you ready?” he asked softly.
She nodded and turned to the mirror. At first, nothing happened, but then a light seemed to grow from inside the curtained area. The girl pressed her hands to her face and shivered lightly. Her hair moved as if in a breeze and slowly the brown strands were replaced by thick white ones. Her skin lightened and began to glow, and when she took her hands from her face, I saw, reflected in the mirror, the flash of pink jewels over her eyes.
I heard her soft voice, “I . . . I am Bodha,” she whispered as she looked at herself, admiring her gleaming skin and the jewels adorning her body.
Then the Lords of the Flame’s hands tightened in fists. Their chests heaved, their bright skin dimmed, and their handsome faces twisted with bitter disappointment. They shook with an emotion so powerful, they could no longer contain it, and the floor under us rumbled.
The temple plunged into shadow. Ren and Kishan took my arms when the floor rumbled again. The mirror cracked; broken pieces splintered and shattered onto the ground. I looked up through the panes of the temple and saw dark, angry clouds covering the entire sky.
The girl screamed in alarm, and the servants quickly ushered her away.
One of the brothers cried out, “Lawala!” and sunk to his knees while the other, in a feverish gesture, flung his hands out to the statue of Lawala. The lovely marble statue cracked. The fracture splintered across her face and down her torso and arms.
“No, Shala!” Wyea shouted at his brother, but it was too late.
The ivory marble had split. A broken arm crashed to the floor, and then the entire thing bent toward me, lips puckered, as if Lawala wanted to lay a smooth kiss upon my brow. Kishan scooped me in his arms, and he and Ren darted out of the way just before the heavy stone broke in pieces and fell right where we’d been standing.
“I’m all right,” I reassured them, as Kishan set me on my feet. “Not even a scrape.”
I felt Kishan tense, and I peeked around Ren to see what was going on. The two Lords of the Flame were quiet. The darkness in them diminished as they finally took notice of us. My heart fluttered in alarm as I realized both men had actually taken notice ofme. They stared at me as if I was the center of the universe and strode purposely forward.
Ren stepped instinctively in front of me and partially blocked their view, but the men didn’t waver.
“I am Shala,” the Lord of the Flame announced and extended his hand to me.
Gracefully, Wyea put a hand on Ren’s and Kishan’s shoulders and pushed gently. It was the softest of touches, but somehow it sent Ren and Kishan flying to the opposite sides of the room. They slid across the golden floor and thumped hard, unconscious, against the temple wall.
I swallowed nervously and said the first dumb thing that came to my mind, “You . . . you’re twins!”
Without missing a beat, Wyea asked, “Is there enough time?”
“We have until the setting of the sun. At that time the cycle will be complete,” Shala replied.
Then, as if on cue, the brothers smiled and said, “Welcome to Bodha, young one.”
“You already met Shala. I am Wyea. Would you care for some refreshment?” Wyea offered. He tucked my hand under his arm and walked me to a chaise lounge.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said nervously, sending a mental flare to my tigers. “But I’m not Lawala.”
