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When she refused, he ordered his guards to take her by force.
    “Upon entry into her husband’s chambers, his true nature was revealed to her, but his hold over the king meant that she was powerless to end his abuse.
    “For thirty days and nights the rakshasa took his fill, and he would have continued longer if not for the servant’s intervention. They sent word to the neighboring kingdom. Aid arrived in the form of the Pious King and his Tantric baba; a man of magical power, who dissolved the spell cast over the king, thus chasing away the demon.
    “The princess was free, but it soon became apparent that the rakshasa’s seed had taken hold and would not be shaken. As the princess grew heavy with child, the people that had once loved and adored her now shunned even her shadow. Despondent and depressed, the princess left the palace and walked into the dark forest, never to be seen again.
    “Some say that she reunited with her demon husband, giving herself to the life of a rakshasa; some say she was devoured by the wild beasts; and others claim she bore a beast so powerful, so horrific, that no rakshasa dare challenge her lest her child tear them limb from limb.”
    The bard bowed his head indicating the end of the tale. There was utter silence.
    “What happened to the king?” someone in the audience asked.
    The bard smiled. “The king, devastated by the loss of his heavenly child and blaming himself for her torment, lost his mind.”
    “And the Pious King?”
    “Went back to being pious, I expect.”
    “Rakshasas can’t do illusions; they’re animals, beasts,” another villager said.
    “Are they?” The bard smiled slyly.
    The munsiff stood, his large belly jiggling. “Thank you, bard. I don’t think any of us have heard that particular tale before; how refreshing to hear something new.”
    There were murmurs of consent, and then someone began to clap, and the whole market square erupted in applause.
    The bard stood, taking a bow and a twirl.
    Priya joined in the clapping, her heart still pounding, her head still reeling from the horrific yet compelling tale. She turned to Pratip with a smile, but he was gone.
    The crowd was shifting, people getting ready to leave. She gnawed on her bottom lip. Guru had promised to walk her home. The temple was a five-minute walk away, while her home was at least twenty. She picked up the cushions and started to make her way through the crowd.
    A warm hand gently cupped her elbow. “May I walk you home?”
    She looked up into Ravi’s clean, chiseled face. “Oh, no, that’s okay. Guru has already promised to do so.”
    Ravi looked about. “Guru isn’t here.”
    “I’m going to fetch him now.”
    A strange expression of ambivalence crossed Ravi’s features. He sighed. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to let me walk you home?”
    Priya couldn’t deny the logic in that, but her heart longed to see Guru, and he had promised. “It’s fine, honestly.” She smiled and turned away.
    “Priya . . . I wouldn’t do that. I mean . . . just, don’t.”
    Priya bit back her annoyance. “Why not?”
    Ravi exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze, lashes fanning against his cheek. “Never mind. If you change your mind, I’ll be at the smithy.” He turned and sauntered away.
    Priya continued toward the temple, shaking her head in exasperation. Why did he have to be so . . . odd?
    She reached the Temple and made her way around back toward the long, low hut Guru’s family called home. The windows were dark. The place felt empty. Priya stood outside the front door not knowing what to do. Where could he be?
    A low moan cut through the air.
    Guru?
    She moved around the house toward the herb garden. The moan came again, louder this time.
    Guru, it was most definitely Guru, and he was hurt.
    Priya ran into the herb garden, searching the darkness for the man she loved, and froze. Her brain struggled to piece together what she was seeing.
    Guru, naked and Pratip . . . naked. Both