Page 47 of The Enduring Universe (The Rages Trilogy #3)

AHILYA

She came to herself suddenly.

She had been elsewhere, right? Something had happened to her, bright and inevitable and terrible. Ahilya looked into the mirror she was staring at, trying to remember what she’d seen, what she’d experienced. But it dissipated like a dream, and she blinked to the reality of her present.

She was in her home in Nakshar, the one she had grown up in. Tariya had married Bharavi and moved away to the architects’ quarters, and this place was Ahilya’s, now that their parents had left Nakshar. She stared at the rustling leaves of the walls, the soft sunlight streaming in through the windows. In her memory, she could hear the veiled disappointment from her parents that she and her sister had not been born with the power. Were they here, would they have been proud that both sisters were marrying architects? How strange to think that this house, with all its memories and grief and laughter, would be dissolved into the ashram when she left it today to go live with her new husband.

Ahilya smiled, thinking of the frantic days of the past, Iravan’s nervous proposal in the library alcove, and how his head had been bowed, his hand held out in humble offering. She could see her giddy acceptance, while she slipped her fingers into his, pulling him up, stuttering her yes. He had caught her unaware with the proposal. She had been light-headed since then, moving in a trance of happiness.

“Ahilya?”

his voice came, and she turned, still smiling.

“Are you ready?”

She saw herself through his gaze, beautiful beyond anything she’d ever been. She was dressed in a stunning, embroidered sari, the color of a rosy glinting dawn, the thread glinting gold and tracing animals in a jungle, as though pulled out of one of her archeological books. Ahilya had gotten this sari specially made, an indulgence she would never have thought to put the weavers of Nakshar through—but if one couldn’t be sentimental about one’s wedding, what was the point of anything? She giggled at Iravan’s hungry gaze, barely recognizing the sound coming from her lips.

Iravan had never looked more handsome. He wore white, a shin-length kurta and narrow pajamas, reminiscent of a Senior Architect though he was still only a Maze Architect. It was a reminder of the bonds of marriage and their importance for the ashrams and all architects. When an architect married—any architect—they were allowed to wear the white of Senior Architects. Ahilya’s heart leapt in delighted premonition. This uniform… He wore it well.

Iravan glanced down at the himself, and gave a rueful shrug.

“It feels unearned. But Airav-ve insisted.”

“He knows that you are bound to take a seat on the council next to him,”

she said.

“They can’t deny you that.”

Ahilya reached forward, and ran her fingers over the brown rudra-beads hanging from his wrists.

More hung around his neck, each of them earned, an indication of his responsibilities.

The both of them knew that she was right.

Airav had indicated it to Iravan in measured words, and Bharavi had confirmed it without ceremony.

With Junain’s passing, the council needed another member, and Iravan’s study of consciousness was by far the most promising of all the candidates in serving the ashram.

“If it happens—” he began.

“When it happens,”

she corrected.

“—I’ll want you by my side. The Senior Architect’s induction ceremony is only for architects, but I intend to change things. I won’t have you missing it.”

“I’ll be there,”

she said. “Always.”

She tipped her head back, trying to freeze this moment in her mind.

She wanted to remember him this way forever.

His too-long jet-black hair curled around his ears. The darkness of his skin, healthy and glowing. The tilted smile on his lips, part-lazy, part-excited.

Iravan reached for her and sighed.

“I would kiss you,”

he said.

“but I might ruin this lip paint.”

“Before today is over, we will have ruined each other in many ways,”

she replied, grinning.

He threw his head back and laughed at that.

“Is that a promise?”

His fingers tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and in the mirror she saw his desire had formed a jasmine on the nearby wall.

He plucked it to place it over her ear—a fitting ornament.

Then he was grasping her hand, and they strode side by side to the waiting attendees, coming together for their wedding day.

Faces of friends and well-wishers blinked at Ahilya.

She could not focus on anything except this wonderful, wonderful man holding her hand.

Bharavi grinned, Tariya wiped away her tears, and there were others too, architects Ahilya did not know the names of but who Iravan had invited.

And then they were facing each other by the small fire of purity.

Iravan was so very handsome that she could cry.

“No second thoughts?”

he murmured.

“Now would be the time.”

Instead of replying, she began her vow, their hands intertwined, and they said it together, promising to traverse a path together or not at all.

His hands skimmed her waist, pulling her closer as they ended on the same note, and she raised hers to his shoulders, feeling both their bodies meld as their lips touched.

Ahilya felt the breath rising in his chest, the warmth of his lips, the sensation of his skin.

All of it felt like home—and it was important, it was so important that she remember this, that she never forget.

He strengthened beneath her, sighing, and sunlight and laughter took her over, and everything else faded into shadows.

Ahilya closed her eyes, and—