Deven charges off without a second glance. I lunge after him, but pain shoots through my knee. Backing up, I rest against the wall and push my palm over my heart. Maybe I can wring out whatever nonsense has come over me. I care for Ashwin, but I love Deven.
My body trembles from indecision. Even after recognizing the distinction of my feelings, hunger rises in me to return to the prince’s pacifying arms . . .
Gods, I’m incorrigible.
I lower myself to the cool floor and rest my leg. The Voider’s icy breath rages within me, freezing me to my spot. The corridors all look identical. I chased Deven so far, I cannot recall the path back to my chamber. Not that it matters. I have little strength to do anything except huddle into myself and try to regain some warmth.
A nudge rouses me awake. “Were you here all night?” Indah asks, standing over me.
Morning’s first rays lighten the corridor. I push up from the floor, astonished I slept here. I understand why neither Deven nor Ashwin searched for me, but I am surprised Natesa or Yatin did not come looking. They must have assumed I was with Deven. “What time is it?”
“Dawn.” Indah joins me on the floor, our backs leaning against the wall. “The navy is finishing preparations for the voyage. We’ll leave for Iresh soon.”
“Did Ashwin and the datu come to an agreement last night?” I was so upset when Ashwin found me, I forgot to ask.
“I don’t know about the prince, but Bulan is pleased. Ashwin offered up lumber, grain, and livestock in exchange for our help. Our food stores have been low for some time, and we don’t have enough land to cultivate the agriculture necessary for our population.” Indah presses a hand to her stomach.
“You still aren’t feeling well?”
“I’m a bit run down from traveling, but I’m fine,” she says. “I’m glad I found you. I didn’t get a chance to ask you last night: Do you and Ashwin intend to marry?”
“You know we don’t. Why?”
Her lips mash together. “At supper, when Ashwin said you weren’t officially set to wed . . . he wasn’t telling the truth.”
Indah can sense the blood flowing through another’s body, specifically when someone’s pulse speeds up, such as when they are lying. Her prowess for sensing people’s dishonesty is a valued asset, but it can be disconcerting when someone I know is her target.
“Are you certain?” I ask. Ashwin would not go against his promise to relinquish his first rights to me.
“I don’t know what it means,” Indah says, quick to qualify her inkling. “I only know what I sensed.”
“But I’m not his intended.”
“Does he know that?”
“Yes . . .” After Indah’s persistent silence, I add, “I—I think so.”
My actions may have confused more than just me. In all fairness to Ashwin, I have acted erratically lately. I must dissolve this strange bond between us. Yet even as I resolve to speak with him, like a rabbit scurrying into a cozy burrow to escape winter, I want to bundle myself in his arms.