Tiger's Promise Read Free Page B

passing city.
    The whole town was lit up, and as the horses turned the corner, the palace came into
     view. It was built on a hilltop, giving it a panoramic view of the surrounding city.
     Beyond the buildings were forests, a wide lake, and hills that offered protection
     from our king’s enemies. The magnificent citadel was built entirely of marble and
     granite, and with its various towers, cupolas, and balconies, there were plenty of
     places to explore. Unfortunately I would never have that opportunity.
    We sped toward the first of three arched gateways, each named for the carved marble
     guardians that stood on either side at the base of each arch. The first was the Vanar
     Pol with two large monkey statues. Then came the Bagh Pol, or The Gate of the Twin
     Tigers. I shivered when I saw the terrifying set of tiger guardians with teeth and
     claws bared.
    Last was the Hathi Pol, or the Elephant Gate, with a life-sized elephant standing
     at each end, trunks raised and large tusks jutting forward. Though there were no signs
     of it, I knew that the wide lot on the other size of the Elephant Gate was used for
     elephant fights—a new and horrific practice my father had instigated. He claimed that
     the fighting was used to assess which elephants were the strongest, the most powerful,
     and the winners were used in his war campaigns.
    I knew that he encouraged the contests not to filter out the weak, though that was
     certainly something he would do, but to stir the blood of the men. The fights were
     staged, and the beasts were given opium to make them more vicious than normal. The
     elephant battles attracted the most bloodthirsty of men, vicious warriors with no
     compassion who sought to profit from war and the pain of others. In short, it was
     a way to recruit the types of men he wanted to surround himself with.
    But for the party, the battles and blood had been scrubbed away. The palace gleamed
     with thousands of lamps and the colorful dresses of hundreds of women, who, wearing
     tinkling jewelry, graced the walkways as if they were vibrant flowers bobbing among
     the scenery.
    Inside, the sparkling light reflected off the wall paintings, colored glass, marble,
     and mirrors. Fantastic murals depicted the great victories of past kings. Each room,
     each hallway, each open terrace was a masterpiece of architecture, and every corner
     was filled with the riches of the kingdom—precious vases collected from exotic locations,
     art that had been completed by masters under commission, and sculptures so beautiful
     I wanted to run my fingertips over the carved details.
    Despite the opulence of the palace interior, there was one thing above all else I
     wanted to see—the famed raised garden of the uppermost court. I knew my father wouldn’t
     wish to visit such a place. There were no courtiers, no diplomats, no political strategies
     going on there, but I thought, perhaps, if I could just catch a glimpse of the legendary
     garden, then I would commit the sight of it to memory and reflect upon it through
     my long and lonely years.
    Unfortunately, I lingered a bit too long by a marble statue of the goddess Durga,
     and my father jerked my arm painfully and squeezed my wrist until the blood throbbed
     hotly in my hand. We moved silently ahead until we came across a couple my father
     wished to speak with.
    He finally let go of my wrist, and I twisted my hand back and forth with as little
     movement as possible until the feeling returned to my fingers. My reprieve was short-lived,
     though, and we soon entered the king’s reception room—a wide area bedecked with so
     many lanterns and so much greenery that I felt like I was in a forested grove beneath
     hundreds of stars.
    My father led me from person to person, and I couldn’t help but notice that nearly
     every man who approached appeared to be assessing me. One was even bold enough to
     reach for my veil. Immediately his fingers fell away and he began to choke.