Arpiya emerged from the side room with an annoyed expression at that exact moment, coughing.
“The boys never clean the dust off their gear,” she grumbled. She glanced at them and then sighed wearily. “Can your reunion wait? I have something important to tell you.”
Harun’s cheeks reddened a bit at that, and he pulled back. Esha did too, wondering why she hadn’t before.
“Anyway. I sent out notes to the spymaster in Mathur and my contacts in Gwali the minute you came back. Their intel on Dharmdev is quite illuminating.”
Harun nodded at her to continue.
“Apparently, he’s been a figure in some of the smaller towns for quite a while. Made a name for himself by stealing from garrisons and taking down soldiers who were corrupt.”
“A regular folk hero,” Esha said.
“Kind of,” Arpiya said. “He’s won the support of some of the common people with the stealing and aggression, but there are whispers of them being radicals ever since he moved to Gwali and started gathering followers. I don’t think he’ll be content with stealing, not if the reports are true. He’s determined to take down Vardaan, put a new government in place. I believe it. This is a man who’s built himself into a folk legend without ever showing his face.”
“Sound familiar?” Harun asked, raising an eyebrow at Esha.
“So he has a group? How many? What’s the organization?” It couldn’t be too big or they would’ve heard more chatter from the Crescent Blades stationed in Gwali and the surrounding towns. Or perhaps he was just that good.
“Started out small, according to my contacts. But he’s been recruiting the smaller resistance groups, those that lost leaders during Vardaan’s last raid.”
“Taking a page from the Yavars’ book,” Esha said. The Yavar horsepeople lived in clans, separated from each other. But after the War in the North thirty years ago, one man had united them under his one banner.
“Because of that, Dharmdev’s numbers are strong. His followers call themselves the Scales of Justice.”
“Dharmdev’s Scales,” Harun said. “Catchy.”
“Organization is unclear, but I can confirm that he has at least a second-in-command. Don’t know how many are in his inner circle yet.”
“Laksh might have been,” Esha said.
“The soldier?” Harun asked. “If he escaped, he’s a liability. He knows your face, Esha. And the soldier from the caravan saw Kunal.”
That wasn’t even the worst of it, though she wasn’t about to tell Harun that.
“I have a plan to take care of it,” Esha said. She’d track down the soldier from the caravan in Gwali. As for Laksh, her poison-tipped knife would have slowed him down, even though it had only grazed him. That poison worked quickly, and they’d be able to get to Dharmdev before he did.
“What are you thinking?” Harun asked her.
“The Scales tried to frame me—to draw me out or to distract Vardaan; it doesn’t matter. They put my life in danger, and they did it well. It took me almost two moons to unravel their scheme.” Esha hesitated for a moment, an idea hovering in her mind. She took the leap. “I think we should try to talk to them. They want Vardaan off the throne; so do we. We should at least reach out to them. See if we can be allies.”
And keep an eye on them. But she wouldn’t voice that thought, not when Harun didn’t know all that had transpired in the jungle with Laksh, or that Kunal was a Samyad, the heen rayan.
“Only you would suggest allying with the group that framed you,” Harun said, snorting. He moved a silver figurine across the board, placing it in Gwali from where it had been, languishing in the outer towns of central Jansa.
“Speaking of alliances,” he said. “We’ll need a few.”
“Noble houses will be the best, right?” Esha said, excitement filling her. She loved the thrill of the chase, but she also loved planning. Assessing and plotting and dreaming.
“Not the nobles. I hate working with nobles,” Arpiya said, groaning.
“Says the girl from one of the most blue-blooded houses in Dharka,” Harun said.
Arpiya glared at him. “I thought we agreed to never mention that.”
“If we want to be successful,” Harun said, “we’ll need political support, money—”
“And troops,” Esha finished. “All things nobles can give us easy access to. We just need one house, maybe two, in Jansa to support us. Perhaps Ayul or Rusala.”
“Maybe Pramukh,” Esha and Harun both said at the same time.
They grinned at each other. She had forgotten how easy it was with Harun sometimes.
“What?” Arpiya asked, exasperated. “I don’t speak Harun. Why do we need support? I thought we were rescuing Reha.”
“Yes. We rescue Reha, fix the janma bond, but then?” Esha said.
Harun stood up, taking the large silver figurine in the shape of an eagle and knocking over the small kinglike figurine that was in Gwali. He placed the figurine approximately where the Pink Palace of Gwali would stand.
“Then we take the throne back from Vardaan,” he said.
Chapter 6
Esha bit her lip as the horse jostled, knowing full well that if she let her pain show through, Harun would put her back in the travel palanquin.
She blew out a frustrated sigh and pulled a bit tighter on her waist sash, which cinched the hard bandages around her waist. Esha glanced at the sky for the third time, checking for signs of a hawk. She’d started sending out a few notes to her contacts in Gwali, laying the groundwork for her return there. She had unfinished business in the city. She hadn’t lied to Kunal when she had said the general had been the first step of her plan.
She was going back to Gwali, the place of her parents’ murder, and this time, she’d leave the city with better memories.
“Esha, a word?” Harun said, trotting up next to her and shooting a quick glance at her side. “I saw you left the palanquin. Hard to make friends in there?”
“Well, you haven’t made it easy. Half of them are eyeing me warily, wondering where I’ve been and why I haven’t been at court as much the past few years. The other half managed to remember I was introduced to court years ago as the king’s ward and now see me as a potential path to you. Which is annoying.”
“You are a path to me,” he said. “It’s smart of them to see it.”
“You’re condoning such behavior?”
Harun snorted. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it—the scheming. You’d have every one of them eating out of your palm in weeks if you were truly at court.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”
“I’d like to say I’m the only one immune to your charms.” He grinned at her, one of those ones that always made her stomach flip a little. “But we both know the truth.”
“Maybe you’re right, but part of me wishes I could own the role I’ve had in protecting our country. Maybe then they’d stop pestering me with questions about your favorite color of silk,” she said.
“Indigo,” he said, smirking. “And I know what you’ve done, Esha. This cease-fire, this potential for peace, none of it would be possible without your years of sacrifice.”