KALINDA
The Claiming chamber is locked from the corridor, so I enter an adjoined room around the corner and close the door behind me. The cold, gray inspection chamber that is used for the first stage of the Claiming ritual is empty.
Circling the hollow area lit by wall lamps, I feel gooseflesh spread up my arms. Here in this very spot, the other recipients and I stood nude before Healer Baka for evaluation of our physical health, a practice to determine whether we were fit to be shown to the benefactor.
An inner door leads to the next chamber. Near it, on a table, is a pot of henna. The sisters used the henna to draw the mark of Enki down our spines. The single wave represented that we were in submission to the most fearsome benefactor who had ever visited our temple.
I am tempted to throw the pot and shatter the memory of Tarek’s arrival, but I pick it up and cradle it close. I once carried the mark of the kindred, dyed in henna on the backs of my hands. The number one was a symbol to all that I was the rajah’s first wife. Tarek may have avowed that I will only be remembered in association with him, but I earned my rank and nobility despite him.
And it all began in the next room.
On a whispered prayer for courage, I open the door to the Claiming chamber. The lamplit cave of a room is smaller than I recall but just as chilly. A mosaic of blue, white, yellow, and red swirls across the tile walls. A muslin veil hangs from ceiling to floor. In front of the veil, the red line on the ground is the same, chipped and worn. I set my toes on the painted mark. I stood here blindfolded while Tarek slunk out from behind the veil and first imposed his touch on me.
All at once, I am blind again. I crumple to the floor and hug the henna pot close. Gods alive, how many girls were claimed here? How many shook in terror and shed tears? The gods had a hand in my Claiming, but how many others can say the same?
Sobs wrench out of me. I cry for Jaya, Natesa, myself, and every other ward whose future was stolen in this chamber. For how long I weep, I do not know. But my inner winter emanates into the tile floor, muddying where my misery ends and the poison begins. Finally, spent, I lie in the dimness, too heartsick and frozen to leave this tomb of innocence.
Footfalls echo through the open door, compelling me to push myself up.
Ashwin fills the doorway. He takes in my swollen eyes and red nose. “Pons told me you were here.” He enters the Claiming chamber and turns his attention to the room itself. He runs a fingertip across the colorful wall that is too cheerful for the terrible ritual held here. At the veil, he reaches for the cloth but withdraws before touching it. “I’m sorry I disagreed with you in front of the priestess. My deepest apologies for giving you the impression that I would retain the Claiming. But I wish you had discussed your motives with me before announcing your intentions. I would have approached the priestess with you, Kalinda. We could have told her we wish to do away with the Claiming as a united front.” His levelheaded explanation negates my anger, for Ashwin is not the true source of my umbrage.
“I didn’t think you’d understand.”
He stares at the chipped red line on the floor. “I’d like to try.”
I, too, want him to understand why he can never repeat his father’s actions. “Tarek claimed me here.” Devoid of tears, I am plain in my recounting. “I was blindfolded and naked. He . . . he touched me.” Ashwin’s gaze sharpens to daggers, and I amend. “My hair, mostly. The rite took only a minute, but it was the longest of my life.”
“A minute is too long to be humiliated and terrified.” Ashwin crosses the room and sits beside me, one knee against his chest. “The wards are safe. With the war, no benefactors will come to claim them.” He leans his shoulder into mine. His touch is daylight in this miserable place. “I’ll change whatever you wish about the temples. I depend on your judgment, especially now . . .” His voice collapses to a whisper. “I’m afraid my decision to unleash Udug will be our ruin.”
I grip his knee. “You had to do it.”
“I still brought this war upon us. Because of me, we may have no future. I need you . . .” He shakes his head and starts over. “I beg of you to trust me.”
“I didn’t mean to exclude you. I trust you. I do.”
Ashwin toys with the gold cuff on my wrist, his gold cuff. He curls his fingers around my arm, and his thumb grazes my pulse. His caress smolders into me, lessening the constant cold, and I sink into his body. His mouth steadily lowers to mine and he says, “You came into my life like a star, the answer to all my wishes.”
He rubs his lips lightly over my own. Heat sparks between us. I lift my chin, yearning for more. He clutches at my waist, and delicious warmth sears into me. My mind goes fuzzy, like I am stretching out in a pool of sunlight.