Rukh stepped forward, coming to stand at her side. He moved as if to speak, and the man raised his hand, quelling him to silence.
“Please,” said the man courteously. “Tell me. Why did you kill her?” His voice was gentle, his mask mocking.
“Will you harm Rukh, to make me speak?”
“No,” he said. “Rukh is one of mine.”
“Will you harm me?”
“That,” the man said, “depends upon you.”
Priya heard Rukh swallow convulsively beside her. She raised her head and squared her shoulders, standing firm and tall. She pressed her teeth together. Remained silent.
The man took a step forward. She watched the movement of his feet—smooth, winding motions. He felt the earth without looking upon it, trusting instinct. He moved with almost utter silence. No wonder the wind and the rattle of the bones had masked his approach.
“You won’t answer me?”
That, Priya thought, was self-evident.
“Kneel,” said the man. “Lower your head. Kneel. You will obey, and you will speak.”
She could not see the man’s mouth. But she was sure—almost sure—that he was smiling.
A memory rolled over her. Childhood duels. An older boy, still skinny but taller every day, grinning at her. Kneel, he’d said. And obey. Say I’m better than you. You know you’re not going to win, Pri. May as well do it now.
And she’d ground her own teeth together, smaller, more stubborn, ready to prove herself, and she’d said—
“We’ll see about that,” she murmured.
She took a step forward of her own, and another, moving the way temple children moved—a dance upon the dirt, a thing bred into the muscle and bone. She angled herself away from Rukh, hoping he would have the sense to remain where he was.
Those eyes through the mask. That particular shade of brown.
The hope in her…
She was almost, almost sure.
She would not kneel. She would not speak until she wanted to speak—until she had the answers she hungered for.
She didn’t wait for him to attack. She darted at him instead. He braced himself, and she feinted to the right. He turned swiftly, following her in that same loop of furious motion, but she moved again, sliding beneath his arm.
She faced him and the two of them circled, winding around one another like predator and prey. Priya knew what she was: muscular, but narrow-boned and slight in comparison to his breadth. She would only win by cunning.
When she was in range, she reached for the kitchen knife tucked in the waist of her sari, drew the blade from its makeshift sheath as he turned toward her, and raised it. His gaze sharpened, and she heard his breath quicken.
With lightning speed, he grasped her wrist, tightening his grip to force her fingers open and the knife to drop. But it was too late. She’d already raised it to the side of his head, and slashed through the first threads of the three-twined rope binding the mask to his skull.
With her other hand, she wrenched the mask. There was no stickiness of melting flesh—no painful heat burning her already singed and sore fingertips. She felt nothing but wood grain and skin. She looked at his face.
He flung her back and she fell to the ground. He pinned her—hand to each wrist—and she was reminded of her childhood, and of Meena, and the smell of burning flesh all at once, a dizzying skein of tangled memory. It was as if time had folded, creasing through the middle, as paper does.
“When I was a girl,” she gasped out, “you used to test me just like this.”
“And you never won,” he said.
“I was younger and smaller and weaker, and that hasn’t changed,” Priya told him. “But my intent wasn’t to win. I wanted to know if you were… you.”
His grip loosened.
“Priya,” he said. “You’re stronger than you used to be.”
“Ashok,” she said.
Brother. Bones above her, and his face beneath them, carved to shadow by the moonlight. Her voice cracked. “I thought you were sick. I thought you’d died.”
“I was sick,” he said quietly. “And I thought I would die too.” His eyes traced her face, and she thought perhaps he felt as she did—flayed by feeling, overwhelmed by the weight of time. “It’s a long tale.”
She swallowed. Her throat felt tight, and her wrists ached.
“Will you let me up?”
He released her. The mask lay on the ground between them.
Rukh was watching them, bright and wan all at once. He looked at Priya as if everything suddenly made sense. He looked at her as if he finally saw her for exactly what she was.