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Authors: Sarah A. Hoyt
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sisters—these years. I don’t know what the tiger wanted with her, and I can’t imagine what the dragon wants with her, but we must save her.”
“How do you know”—the king said, standing—“that he wants anything with her? Or that the tiger did? Even if he laid a compulsion, she clearly didn’t come to it. He asked for the ruby in the dowry, didn’t he? Depend upon it, it was the ruby he wanted, and nothing more. And doubtless the dragon means to hold her hostage for the ruby as well.”
Lalita shook her head slowly. “Sire, it can’t be. Because I heard her father tell the tiger he would give him the ruby if only he’d leave his daughter alone.”
The king rubbed his chin pensively. “That is . . . interesting,” he said. “And a dragon took her, you said?”
Lalita bowed her head by way of affirmative.
“Did he take the ruby also?” The king tilted forward on his throne, as though trying to read Lalita’s expression.
She shook her head, and the king licked his lips in quite an unconscious reaction. “And the house is in disarray, is it?”
“They were on the balcony when I left, trying to find where the dragon might have taken Miss Warington.”
“Would the ruby . . . be attainable now?”
Lalita hadn’t thought of the ruby. Her mind had been full of her mistress—of her being stolen by the dragon and of what might be befalling her now. She had not spared a thought for the ruby. It had always been with Mr. Warington, but under heavy protections. Though he didn’t know it was the mystical Soul of Fire, he knew it was powerful and magical. And there was an ancestral legend about horrible things that would befall the family should they lose the ruby. And since Lalita and Sofie’s return, Lalita noticed it was still protected. Enough that no one would be able to touch it. Lalita was sure Mr. Warington had started using dark magic to keep the ruby secure from the tiger—and in the process was keeping it secure from everyone else. But the tiger had somehow hooked the Englishman through the dark magic, somehow snagged his magical power in his own dark, roiling magic. And now he was forcing his hand.
“I think it would still be protected,” she said, and swallowed. “Unless I’m mistaken, the tiger will get the ruby.”
The king narrowed his eyes, as if deep in thought, and slowly puffed out his cheeks, then let them deflate again, suddenly. “Very well. I shall send sentinels to watch for the ruby. To see if it leaves the house with the tiger, and if so, where he takes it.”
“But . . . my mistress!” The words came out as a wail, which Lalita hadn’t meant them to. “My mistress was taken by the dragon. Something horrible could be happening to her.”
“That’s not very likely, is it? Even if the tiger thinks he needs both her and the ruby, surely nothing can be done with her only?”
“The dragon could be holding her hostage,” Lalita protested. “Or . . . or hurting her.”
“Oh.” The king looked at Lalita a long time. “And this would distress you? Even though she’s an Englishwoman whose parents came here attempting to make a fortune off of our land and our people?”
“Sofie didn’t try to make a fortune off of anything,” Lalita said. “And besides, her great-grandmother was Indian.” Personally, Lalita couldn’t understand why it mattered what Sofie was. Oh, she wanted freedom for her people and for them to have the right to govern themselves. It galled and distressed her that Englishmen thought her people too infantile, too savage to govern themselves. She wanted the Imperial authority out of India—the East India Company, too. But until this moment it had never occurred to her that her own king wanted everyone of English blood out. There were decent people and there were people who weren’t decent. Sofie Warington was silly and often strange, but she was a good person. She might not show it in public, but in private she treated Lalita as one of her
“How do you know”—the king said, standing—“that he wants anything with her? Or that the tiger did? Even if he laid a compulsion, she clearly didn’t come to it. He asked for the ruby in the dowry, didn’t he? Depend upon it, it was the ruby he wanted, and nothing more. And doubtless the dragon means to hold her hostage for the ruby as well.”
Lalita shook her head slowly. “Sire, it can’t be. Because I heard her father tell the tiger he would give him the ruby if only he’d leave his daughter alone.”
The king rubbed his chin pensively. “That is . . . interesting,” he said. “And a dragon took her, you said?”
Lalita bowed her head by way of affirmative.
“Did he take the ruby also?” The king tilted forward on his throne, as though trying to read Lalita’s expression.
She shook her head, and the king licked his lips in quite an unconscious reaction. “And the house is in disarray, is it?”
“They were on the balcony when I left, trying to find where the dragon might have taken Miss Warington.”
“Would the ruby . . . be attainable now?”
Lalita hadn’t thought of the ruby. Her mind had been full of her mistress—of her being stolen by the dragon and of what might be befalling her now. She had not spared a thought for the ruby. It had always been with Mr. Warington, but under heavy protections. Though he didn’t know it was the mystical Soul of Fire, he knew it was powerful and magical. And there was an ancestral legend about horrible things that would befall the family should they lose the ruby. And since Lalita and Sofie’s return, Lalita noticed it was still protected. Enough that no one would be able to touch it. Lalita was sure Mr. Warington had started using dark magic to keep the ruby secure from the tiger—and in the process was keeping it secure from everyone else. But the tiger had somehow hooked the Englishman through the dark magic, somehow snagged his magical power in his own dark, roiling magic. And now he was forcing his hand.
“I think it would still be protected,” she said, and swallowed. “Unless I’m mistaken, the tiger will get the ruby.”
The king narrowed his eyes, as if deep in thought, and slowly puffed out his cheeks, then let them deflate again, suddenly. “Very well. I shall send sentinels to watch for the ruby. To see if it leaves the house with the tiger, and if so, where he takes it.”
“But . . . my mistress!” The words came out as a wail, which Lalita hadn’t meant them to. “My mistress was taken by the dragon. Something horrible could be happening to her.”
“That’s not very likely, is it? Even if the tiger thinks he needs both her and the ruby, surely nothing can be done with her only?”
“The dragon could be holding her hostage,” Lalita protested. “Or . . . or hurting her.”
“Oh.” The king looked at Lalita a long time. “And this would distress you? Even though she’s an Englishwoman whose parents came here attempting to make a fortune off of our land and our people?”
“Sofie didn’t try to make a fortune off of anything,” Lalita said. “And besides, her great-grandmother was Indian.” Personally, Lalita couldn’t understand why it mattered what Sofie was. Oh, she wanted freedom for her people and for them to have the right to govern themselves. It galled and distressed her that Englishmen thought her people too infantile, too savage to govern themselves. She wanted the Imperial authority out of India—the East India Company, too. But until this moment it had never occurred to her that her own king wanted everyone of English blood out. There were decent people and there were people who weren’t decent. Sofie Warington was silly and often strange, but she was a good person. She might not show it in public, but in private she treated Lalita as one of her
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