The Duke of Shadows (13 page)

"Shall I take you up to the roof?" he said softly. "No one about to see us. It's quite a view."

"What a shplen
—splendid
idea." Her motives, she thought, were not
strictly
base; if there was no one to see them, there would be no one to hear them, either.

He pulled her down the corridor, then helped her up a steep staircase leading onto a small, flat roof. Ah, but it
was
a fantastical scene. The moonlit plains stretched out in all directions, and above, the moon was riding low in the sky, a bright, swollen yellow. "A hunter's moon," she breathed.

His hands came around her waist as he placed a kiss at the base of her neck. "And what might
you
be hunting, up here on the roof?"

She turned to him with a smile, and then another answer occurred to her. "I think—I am more in the way of the hunted, actually."

His fingers flexed at her sides. For a long moment, she held still beneath his scrutiny, willing him to see that her next words would be carefully considered. When he leaned down, his forehead settling lightly against hers, she murmured, "I respect your faith in our safety here. I do. But I cannot share it."

He sighed. She closed that last small inch and kissed him softly. "I am sorry," she said as she drew away.

He shook his head. Then his gaze shifted beyond her, to the sight of the plains beyond them. "Emma, I'm leaving for Delhi tomorrow."

She jerked backward, out of his grip. "What!"

"I'm going back. The Maharajah's runner returned tonight. The mutinied troops are laying siege to the British encampment on the Ridge, and the army is gathering in Kurnaul, preparing to march on them. I'm going to help with the negotiations."

"You can't go back! When I've just told you—and Julian, you could be killed!"

"Emma,
listen
to me. I spoke with the Maharajah. He will keep his son in Kashmir. He—"

"It's not the son I'm worried about, it's the bride! That woman—"

"Emma, I am in love with you."

Her mouth opened, closed. "You—" She was windless. "What?"

He smiled a little. "You heard it aright. And this is the only place I know that is safe enough to leave you. I am going to leave you here
because
I love you. And if that cannot secure your faith… God, Emma. Then I don't know what else I can say or do."

"Take me with you," she said instantly. "Take me to Delhi."

"No."

"Why not?"

He threw her a glance. "True enough, that."

She flinched. Belatedly she realized that the pain she felt was her own nails, digging into the hollow at the base of her throat. "Julian, don't you
dare
try to prove yourself to those people. They aren't worth it, they—"

"Those people
are
my people. Both sides," he said. "British and Indian, I owe something to both of them. It's almost my … my
duty
to help end this bloodshed."

"No," she whispered, because it was clear to her, suddenly, that argument would not sway him. The set of his face … the ticking muscle at his jaw.
I will deliver you to a safe place.
That had been his original promise, on the banks of the Jumna. He'd planned to leave her all along. How had she forgotten that?

But, God above, so much had changed since then. The entire world had changed. He
loved
her. "Julian. I can't—"
I can't lose you too.
"Julian, if you go, I will never…"
Will never forgive you.
She touched her lips. Did she mean it? Would she say it?

"And there is my family," he added tonelessly. "I must at least try to make sure they are safe, whether they want my help or no."

No. She would not say it.

Her eyes burned. She turned them toward the coolness of the moon. It did not blur in the night sky. Did not waver.

"I'll come back for you," he said. His voice was very close suddenly. "Emma—must I even tell you that? I vow it to you on my soul. I vow it on
you.
You'll stay here until the fighting's ended, until the countryside is settled. And then I will come back for you."

She drew a deep, unsteady breath. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him. "Of course you have to go. How silly of me to try to stop you. It is brave of you to go; noble of you. I admire you for it."

His words were low and hoarse. "Don't look at me like that. I will come back for you. Damn it, say you know that."

"If you survive, I'm sure you will." The words seemed to singe her lips as she spoke them. Her mouth twisted, beyond her control.

His hand closed on her arm. "Of course I will survive. I will survive for this."

His kiss was not gentle. His lips moved over hers roughly, bruising, authoritative as they laid claim to her. She tried to break away, but his grip tightened, painful now. He would not let her go. But
he
would go. They all went from her, the ones she loved were all washed away eventually. She felt a sob twisting up in her throat, and she fought it down with her anger, with fingers stiffened like claws, anchors that dug into his shoulders as she kissed him back.

And then she shoved him, and he did release her, taking a step back, his breath coming fast and quick.

"Go," she said. "Go then."

She would say no prayer for him. She had tried them before. They did not work.

"Hey!
Kya kar rahe ho!
Watch it!" Kavita snapped. The boy muttered an apology, and the princess bent another smile on her. "But I know how difficult it is to be separated from one's beloved. I am waiting breathlessly for my Yuvraj."

"Yes," Emma murmured. An entire week now with no letter from Julian. Was he still alive? Had he managed to lure his headstrong young cousin out of the city? She rubbed her chest. In the daylight, love felt like a stone on her heart, crushing the breath from her body, leaving her listless. But at night, in bed, she relived what had passed between them in the ruins, and she could not sleep. For want of his hands, his voice, she paced the length of her room.

"And when he does come back," Kavita added, "I will beat him with a shoe."

Emma smiled. The Maharajah had kept his word; four weeks now, and the crown prince remained in Srinagar. Kavita was quite put out.

"Yes, a smile! Very good,
behin.
You must leave off these long faces. You were starting to remind me of those
ulloos
down there." Kavita nodded to the parterre below, and Emma glanced down to discover that Anne Marie and Mrs. Kiddell had mustered the courage to emerge for a walk.

The women would not speak with her. She did not know why. Perhaps Kavita had said something and they'd taken it amiss. In the last few weeks, Emma had come to realize that Julian was right; there was no cruelty in the princess, only a youthful enthusiasm that occasionally suffered disastrous mistranslations into English. Her scorn for the women, Emma suspected to be a show, meant to disguise her hurt feelings at their rebuffs. Kavita was accustomed to being loved by everyone, after all. And after so much time with her, Emma knew why. The princess was very winning, in her peculiar way. Canny, playful, and wholly irrepressible.

She gave Kavita a rueful smile. "Let's give it one more try," she said, and leaned over the terrace wall. "Mrs. Kiddell! Anne Marie! How do you do! A lovely day, isn't it?"

Anne Marie managed to sniff loudly enough to be heard on the terrace. "I think we decided not to speak to her, didn't we, Mrs. Kiddell? Some people are remarkably thick."

Emma raised her brows, looking back to the princess. "I am thoroughly blackballed."

Kavita snorted. "Stupid goats, the pair of them. Perhaps I should stick them and Suchitra in a small—" She cut herself off at the sound of trumpets, twisting in her seat to look toward the main fort gate.

Emma stood up, shielding her eyes against the sun with her sketchbook as she followed the progress of a pack of approaching horses. "Dear God, those aren't sepoys, are they?"

"Nahin,
no, Emma
behin,
those will be the Maharajah's men. It is tax time, you know, and he sent them out to the villages a week ago to collect his tributes." Kavita's grin was wicked. "That is how he pays his tithe to the British—by bleeding dry his loyal subjects."

Emma looked to her hands. "I'm sorry, Kavita. That's not right. I begin to wonder if any of it is right."

"Perhaps you shouldn't, though," Kavita said gently. "I know you are trying to be fair,
behin,
but we are only women, and thinking too much is dangerous for us. The men make the decisions, so let them also take the responsibility."

Emma grimaced. "A sad state of affairs, isn't it?" Shrieks from the garden made her stand again, and she laughed despite herself as she saw Anne Marie and Mrs. Kiddell lapsing into hysterics at the sight of the Maharajah's tax collectors striding down the lawn. Anne Marie had collapsed to the ground, and Mrs. Kiddell was trying unsuccessfully to drag her inside, screaming for help all the while.

Kavita joined her at the wall, laughing too. "Such fools!"

"You know it's very unkind of us to make fun,"

Emma said after a moment. "Mrs. Kiddell!" she yelled. "Anne Marie! It's all right! Those are the Maharajah's men!"

Mrs. Kiddell whirled, craning her head up to Emma. "Oh, thank God! Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm—" Emma paused as Kavita put a hand to her arm. "What is it?"

"Those men," Kavita said slowly, her face paling. "I don't recognize—guards!" she screamed.
"Qe bachaao!"

Emma staggered back, her hands fisted to her mouth as she watched while the girl was dragged into sight, one of the men slitting her dress down the front with an expert sword hand. "My God—dear God—God in heaven—"

"Emma!" Kavita shook her roughly.
"Behin,
you must run!"

The man suddenly looked up, and for the split second they stared at each other, Emma had a glimpse of hell. Then the knife slashed again.
Her breasts.
He had cut off her breasts. As Anne Marie tumbled to the ground, he cried out, pointing up to Emma with the bloody blade.

She pivoted, grabbing Kavita's wrists. "If Julian comes back—when he comes back—tell him I—"

"You
tell him!" Kavita dragged her forward to the double doors of her apartments, pulling Emma inside and chaining the portal. "Quickly,
behin,
rip down the tapestry.
Haay Ram,
where are the bloody guards?"

Emma raced to the other side of the room, jamming her sketchbook under her arm so she could yank off the heavy draperies. They collapsed on her in a cloud of dust, and she pushed her way free, coughing violently.

"Push the candles into the niche!"

Emma shoved herself against the iron candelabra until she heard a sharp click. Kavita lunged to the opposite wall, pushing on one of the plaster panels until it seemed to break. It swung inward to reveal a musty passageway, and the princess grabbed a torch from the wall, shoving it into Emma's hand.

"It lets out by the stables. Give them—" She searched the room frantically, and then glanced down at herself, yanking an ornate gold ring from her finger. "Give them this, and take one of the horses. Ride in the opposite direction of the sun, and you will encounter British troops. Go,
behin!"