Page 123 of Tiger's Voyage

“Vishshva!” Ren spat.

Then he began yelling at Kishan in Hindi, speaking so fast I couldn’t pick out anything. I don’t know what he said, but Kishan bristled and clenched his jaw. I heard a rumble of warning from Kishan’s chest.

Through clenched teeth Kishan quietly said, “Kelsey? It’s time to go. Run.”

Whatever was going on with Ren was getting worse. Kishan said some things back to him that were obviously not helping. In fact, they appeared to be spurring Ren on, making him even angrier than he already was.

Kishan reached back and squeezed my hand. “Go. I’ll hold him off.”

I had just turned to leave when I heard a terrible groan of pain and the sound of someone dropping heavily to the deck. I whipped around and saw Kishan standing over a prostrate Ren.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. He clutched his head and fell.”

Ren was on his knees, bent over so his head touched the deck. His hands were pressed into his hair, and he twisted and pulled the strands as he moaned in agony. Suddenly he flung back his head and threw out his chest. Fists clenched at his sides, he screamed out in pain—the kind of mortal cry that reverberates through anyone who hears it. It was a cry of utter agony. In it, I could hear the echoes of Lokesh’s laughter as he hurt him, the physical suffering of months of torture, the emotional turmoil of having nothing left to live for.

I had to go to him. He needed me. His anguish seeped into my body until it became a living entity. I had to vanquish it. I couldn’t let him suffer like this, couldn’t allow him to feel this pain. I knew somehow that I could destroy this blackness, this darkness that overshadowed his mind, his soul.

That’s when I felt it. Under the hurt, under the layers of torment, there was something solid, something strong, something unbreakable. It was back. The bridge between Ren and me had been rebuilt. It was hidden under waves of pain. It was flooded over, but it was there, and it was rock-hard and firm. I took several steps toward him, but Kishan held me back.

Ren slumped forward again and braced himself on shaky arms, panting. My heart beat heavily as if in rhythm with his. I could feel my limbs trembling, echoing his shaky movements. The three of us stayed locked in that position for several minutes. Kishan finally took a step forward and held out his hand. Ren took several deep breaths and then clasped his brother’s hand. He stood and lifted his head, but he didn’t look at Kishan. He looked at me.

I froze in place. My skin tingled all over. My pulse hammered thickly through my veins.

Kishan spoke, “Are you … alright?”

Ren replied without taking his eyes off me. “I amnow.”

“What happened to you?” Kishan continued.

Ren sighed deeply and reluctantly looked at his brother. “The veil of concealment was lifted.”

“A veil? What veil?”

“The veil in my mind. The one Durga put there.”

“Durga?”

“Yes,” he replied softly. “I remember now.” His gaze shifted to me again. “I remember …everything.”

I gasped softly. The night air now hung thickly around us, warm and sultry when it had previously been cool and crisp. A vibrating hum in my body warmed my muscles, smoothing, melting away the stress of a few moments before, and I became aware of only one thing: the man looking at me fervently with unspoken words in his brilliant blue eyes. I don’t know how long we were locked together like that. I didn’t think anything could break that visual connection, but then Kishan stepped in front of me and faced his brother. I blinked several times before his words made sense.

“Stay here,” he said to Ren. “We’re just going downstairs to get Kadam, and then we’ll be back. Are you listening to me? Ren?”

Ren spoke without taking his eyes off me. “Yes. I will stay here and wait.”

Kishan grunted. “Good. Come on, Kells.” He took my hand and started leading me away. I followed him placidly, letting him guide my footsteps as my mind dwelt on what had happened.

Just after we rounded the corner, I heard Ren’s soft voice, no more than a whisper on the night breeze entreat, “Don’t go,iadala. Stay with me.”

I hitched a breath and turned to look, but I couldn’t see him anymore. Kishan squeezed my hand and pulled me along after him. When we arrived at Mr. Kadam’s door, Kishan knocked softly. The door opened a crack, and then all the way, allowing us to enter.

Mr. Kadam wore a gentleman’s dressing robe, the type of sleepwear that men a hundred years ago would have worn before retiring for the evening. Kishan quickly explained the situation. They both wanted me to stay put while they spoke with Ren. They were adamant, and I was in too much shock to protest. I sat in Mr. Kadam’s chair, lifting a heavy book onto my lap.

I opened the book, but I couldn’t read. My brain was unplugged. My body was entirely focused on feeling; and right now, the only thing I could feel was the strong connection in the center of my body. The hole, the missing link, the broken off gaping piece of me, gone since Shangri-la, was back, and I could feel the other end. I was connected to Ren again. I had been alone. Naked. Exposed to the harsh world. And now … I wasn’t.

Even as I sat here decks away from him, I could feel the warmth of his presence as if a soft blanket had been wrapped around my soul, around my heart. It held me and protected me. It sheltered me, and I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. I’d been like a colander, a bowl that could hold onto the major stuff but the precious liquid drops of emotional connection were constantly draining out of me.