Page 69 of The Burning Mountain
“And you,” she finally rounded on Veer, who stood stoic and still. Not a muscle moved in his face and yet Shota, who knew his friend a lot longer than anyone present, save Virat, knew he was barely holding on.
“You know everything. I told you everything. Why? Why do you risk everyone by inviting him here? What do I have to do to make you believe me?” Her voice broke toward the end, but she managed to keep her composure.
Even Shota, who called himself the most cynical of men, felt sorry for her. Her distress and pain were too genuine to be fabricated. She absolutely believed in her version of events, which meant she had to be telling the truth. And that meant Virat had to be guilty. Of so many crimes. The judicial amulet pulsed in his hand.
But unlike him, it wouldn’t be easy for Veer to accept the truth about his dead friend. Shota was the only one who could see the anguish Veer was trying to bury. For him, it would be like losing Virat for the second time.
Veer continued his staring match with the princess, neither willing to back down.
“I think I will take my leave now, Veer.” Virat’s reedy voice broke into the simmering silence. “I see my presence is only going to make things awkward. I’ll return when you set sail. You know how to reach me.”
Shota couldn’t help but feel relieved at the suggestion. He even got the impression Veer felt the same when he said, “That might be for the best.”
Virat’s eyes flickered and hardened in its first show of emotion. But it was there so briefly that Shota wondered if he had seen it.
Virat bowed before Samudra, nodded at Bhupathi, and walked away, his staff clacking along the marble. A sore on his foot had opened, leaving smears of bloodstains on the floor in grisly footprints. He didn’t seem to notice anything. But even the servants and people who were unaware of his reputation as a wizard flinched when he passed them by.
31
A CLASH OF CONFLICTS
“You knew!” Chandra struggled to speak past the rage that constricted her throat. She couldn’t explain why the anger came from a place so deep she was tempted to call it hurt.
Veer leaned back against the closed door and folded his arms over his chest, watching her warily. She took his silence to be an admission of guilt. After that demonstration, her husband had grabbed her hand and dragged her to this room, locking the door behind them.
Chandra took a deep breath to calm herself and failed. Logically, she knew that shouting wouldn’t get her answers, but it had always been hard for her to cool her emotions. She fisted her hands and paced the length of the room in long strides—as drawn out as her rage. Veer watched her as one would a lioness pacing inside a cage.
“How long have you known?” she asked, forcing the words out calmly when all she wanted was to vent.
Veer crossed to the other end of the room and filled a goblet with wine, instead of his usual water. “Since Thianvelli,” he admitted, his back to her. “And perhaps you don’t see it that way, but his actions helped us get to the hidden place of the key piecein temple city. Had it not been for his lightning, I wouldn’t have stayed in the three-river confluence long enough to ever discover the pattern at the bottom.”
That statement gave her a moment’s pause. It was true. If Virat had not struck lightning into the lake, Veer wouldn’t have been able to solve the mystery of thedhvajastambha.But Chandra was unwilling to ascribe any good deeds, no matter how unexpected, to the man who had brought her so much misery.
“And you didn’t think I ought to know this? Princess Chandrasena”—she affected a deeper voice, imitating him, as she stalked toward his still figure—“you know the man who tried to kill your friend happens to be alive by some godforsaken means and I’ve invited him here. Isn’t that something?” Her voice crept up and she realized her words probably carried outside. Through the long and narrow window, she saw a knot of curious people trying to catch a glimpse. Veer followed her gaze and shut the window with a decisive slam, then faced her once again.
He stared at her for a long time, a muscle working in his jaw before he unlocked his mouth to utter a single word, designed to drive her mad. “No.”
Chandra wanted to scream in frustration. Her fingers flexed into claws. She itched to take a weapon in her hand and go after Virat; finish the job she thought she had done seven years ago. Before he hurt anyone else.
“I need more than a single word as an answer, Prince,” she seethed.
“Perhaps I wanted to see your reaction…” he said carelessly as he lifted his idle goblet to his lips again, watching her over the rim. She could smell the full-bodied scent of the lush wine.
Her anger snapped its restraints, and she watched as her hand came up without conscious thought and knocked the goblet out of his hands.
The red wine sailed through the air and splashed in a bloodred splatter on the white wall, while the goblet rang a single note as it fell to the ground, rolling under the table, to disappear out of sight.
A ringing silence fell.
She stood shocked at her own actions, before glancing apprehensively at Veer, afraid of his reaction.
The ugly stain on the wall didn’t even get a cursory comment from either of them. The temperature in the room shifted. Veer’s entire focus was on her, his body was loose, but his eyes were two chips of burning coal in a coldly furious face. His hands bunched into fists as if he were imagining them around her throat and a muscle ticked in the plane of his cheek. The scourge of the north in all his magnificent fury.
She automatically took two steps back, swallowing hard, memories assailing her about the last time he was this angry with her.
Veer watched her retreat with a dispassionate face, but his eyes went cold. She watched with a trace of envy as he banked his anger under what had to be an impressive will of iron she could never hope to achieve. “I hope that pleased you, Princess,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” her apology came in a small voice. She was ashamed of herself for her petty reaction.
