Their hostess took out a set of small cups, filling them from a jar by her feet.
“Thank you,” Neil said as he accepted one.He took a sip and immediately coughed.
The vessels were full of some sort of alcohol.Ellie had been able to tell that with a sniff.It burned at her nose like Adam’s occasional pours of whiskey.
The smoky, floral scent tickled strangely at the back of her mind.
Constance smirked at Neil and then tossed back a stiff slug of the liquor with no apparent impact.
Nirjara made an encouraging gesture at Ellie, nodding at her cup.Not wanting to offend her host, Ellie lifted it to her mouth.
Flowers danced over her tongue with a tantalizing burn… and the world around her snapped away, replaced by somewhere else.
A circle of women laughed under the full moon, dressed in embroidered robes accented with jade and gold.A white stone pyramid rose in the distance, painted silver by the night through the dancing leaves of the ceiba trees.
A priestess clapped for attention with an indulgent smile.
The clay cup at her lips.The burn against her throat—honey and fire, petals and sunlight.
“Stone Flower Water,” Ellie blurted out loud, clutching the cup between her hands.
She wasn’t under the moon.She sat on the porch in the heart of the Adrija village.
Constance cast her a curious look.Neil didn’t seem to have noticed, engrossed in trying a more tentative sip of the liquor.
Adam set a gentle hand on her shoulder, glancing down at her with a flicker of understanding.The touch was an anchor linking her more solidly to the hot Indian afternoon—and not a place a thousand miles away and centuries in the past.
Ellie was afraid to take another sip.She glanced at Vanika’s kuttakaru grandmother to try to discern how that might be received and was surprised to find the woman watching her with a look that felt oddlyknowing.
Nirjara turned away to raise a hand in greeting to someone coming down the road.
While their hostess’s attention was diverted, Adam plucked Ellie’s cup from her hand, swapping it with his own—which he had already drained.
Ellie flashed him a grateful smile.
In answer to Nirjara’s wave, a young man hopped onto the porch.He did not look very happy to be there.
The fellow was objectively dashing, with wavy black hair and the build of a natural athlete under his loose cotton shirt and casual trousers.He appeared to be a few years shy of Ellie’s own age but carried himself with a straight-backed air of natural authority.
Constance frankly assessed the newcomer.
“Guests from the maharaja, is it?”the young man summarized tersely.“I’m Subhas Konja.Mind if I ask why you’ve come?”
Nirjara scolded him.“We’ima, Na’tya.”
“Hao, Attuburhi,” Subhas replied with a note of exasperation.He sat down on one of the stools.“My grandmother has requested that I hear you out,” he reported obediently—if not particularly enthusiastically.
“Your English is excellent,” Constance commented.“Are there many people here who speak it?”
“No,” Subhas returned shortly.“I’m at Ravenshaw, the university in Cuttack.”
Nirjara tsked lightly, her eyes sparking with humor.
Subhas suppressed a sigh.“I am there studying law on a scholarship program funded by His Highness the Maharaja of Nandapur, for which I am eternally and deeply obliged to him,” he rattled off with a clear note of sarcasm.
Constance’s brow arched.
“What?”Subhas pushed back, challenging.“Am I supposed to celebrate that the means of determining who has the opportunity to better themselves lies with an unelected hereditary ruler who grows fat on the tax revenues of the working people?”
