The Mosquito and the Lion

seventeen

As her feet slammed against the underbrush, sending creepy-crawlers skittering away, Alia resisted the urge to turn back and ensure Arjun was okay.

She felt dirty, and it wasn't just because of the blood and dirt caked onto her face, or the scratches lining her arms, or even the muddied hem of her salwar. In her short time on this earth, Alia had thieved, stolen, and fought with no qualms. The quiet voice of her conscience had never disdained her actions.

Until now.

She had poisoned a man who had saved her life. Yes, she had technically saved his first, but she did not believe in life debts. She believed in punching above your weight, in doing what was necessary to survive. Alia could not escape the knowledge that poisoning him, when he was injured and had nowhere to run, was heartless.

It was necessary. He would have captured you otherwise.

But she did not know that. If anything, he had been trying for a truce, for a resolution. She wondered what the Queen would have done. Would she have accepted his bargain?

Then again, did Alia even have the authority to accept his terms? Very few knew she was the Lost Princess. Hell, she was still awaiting some confirmation that she really was of the royal bloodline. All she could do was follow the Queen's orders, right?

Her skin prickled as the unfortunate realization dawned on her. The excuse was too familiar — the very one Kshat guards used to justify their actions. "I was just following orders," they would bemoan, pretending to feel remorse.

You can't change it now. Besides, he's still Yadavan. And the Crown Prince. And he was an ass! He deserved it.

The reminder of Arjun's lineage offered enough solace to let her more rational sensibilities take over. They had been in the trees for at least an hour. Maybe two, and she had caught no sight of Vikram or Nandini.

Oh Gods. The demon.

Violent images flashed through her mind, leaving her teeth chattering. She could picture Nandini's frail lifeless body too easily, an unrecognizable heap following the demon's attack. Vikram would die with his sword in hand, too proud to consider hiding in the trees.

Her pace quickened, the sword drumming against her hip with each leap. Panic tore through her body, and she recalled Rajiv's rickety home. One gust, and she would blow to pieces.

She tried to remain logical. There were no imprints in the earth. No signs of blood or claw scratches in the trunks. Fireflies still pulsed around her, not frightened away by a mythical creature.

Yet, despite all signs to the contrary, Alia was convinced her companions were dead.

And then she saw them trudging through the trees, and joy blossomed in her heart, shoving out all doubts and regrets about poisoning Arjun.

"Vikram! Nandini!" she yelled, capturing their attention. They looked up at her, and Alia quickly scanned for any injuries. But save for the Kshat's bloody lip, and Nandini's splotchy face, they were both fine.

The past few hours had been taxing and emotional, and so she left her fears by the wayside. She hurtled towards them, looping her arms around Nandini's shoulders, ignoring the way the scholar stiffened. "Thank Gods you're all right."

If either of them were surprised by her sudden display of affection, they made no mention of it. She felt Vikram rub a comforting hand on her back, taking care not to upset her bandaging. The reminder of Arjun's kindness, and her cruel repayment, jolted her back to reality, and she pulled away from the embrace.