I own NOTHING! Libba Bray, authoress extraordinaire, does. This oneshot is written as a companion to Forbidden but Forever. It can stand on its own, but it might be helpful if you read (and review) Forbidden but Forever first. Review! Review! This oneshot is set to the song "Angels and Girlfriends".
Kartik's POV(at twelve years old)
I first saw her as she wandered the streets of Bombay, apparently lost. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Little girls get hurt wandering around like that. She may just learn the hard way one day. But then I grinned and thought to myself, "One day, she will do what I say. I'll be her guardian, after all."
My face glowed with excitement as I thought of the task that would eventually be mine. I would show them. I would show all those boys who thought that "Sissy Kartik" was a weakling. One day, I would make them see that I was worthy of the Rakshana. But at the present, I concentrated on the task at hand.
"Bring her to me," Amar had said. Amar, my brother and my closest friend. There was nothing he said that I didn't trust, nothing he asked that I wouldn't do. And I would do this for him.
Her mother was Amar's priestess. He had recently been assigned to her. The trouble was, she didn't know it yet. Amar had to tell her. The plan was to lure the girl to Amar, knowing that the mother would eventually follow. Quite genius. Amar was like that, always so clever.
We had been in London at the time, Amar and I. When the word came about the priestess, we stowed away on a cargo ship and sailed to Bombay, the city of my birth. I had been excited. It had been ages since I had seen the place. I could hardly wait. I told myself that the main reason I wanted to go to India was to see the elephants and trained monkeys. Yet, in my heart, I knew that the real reason was to find my mother. Amar knew it, but he never said anything. He never added to my humiliation. And I loved him for it.
My mind had begun to stray to my mother's face, but I mentally slapped myself and focused all of my energy on luring the girl. What was her name again? Jenna? Geman? Gemma? Yes, Gemma. That was it.
She was standing by a fruit vendor. Her striking green eyes shone in fear as she scanned the crowd. "Mother?" I heard her cry out, looking perilously close to tears.
Suddenly, I was overcome with pity for her. I knew how it felt to be lost in a crowd, looking for a parent. Shortly after leaving my family, I had looked for my mother everywhere. And I had cried and cried when she was nowhere to be found. But at least I had Amar. He would never leave me.
I hopped down from my hiding place in a windowsill near the street corner. Then, I made my way over to her as inconspicuously as I could. Unfortunately, this Gemma girl was quick. She saw me watching her and quickly moved into the oncoming crowd of pedestrians. I followed her.
She stopped to observe the snake charmer and his cobra. I marveled that she showed not the slightest sign of fear. Most girls would have run away to their mothers shrieking. But she did not. She only stood watching the cobra weave through the air from its basket. I had been watching her for several minutes when, as if she could fell my eyes on her, she whipped around and stared me straight in the eye. The action startled me. I had no idea that English girls were so bold.
Then, haughty as you please, she walked up to me and demanded, "Why are you following me? It's very irritating, you know." Her voice was commanding and fierce. I was to guard her?
"I, uh," I faltered. She looked at me smugly, as if she had won. "I, uh…You looked lost. I was worried about you. Little girls shouldn't wander the streets alone." I quipped, hoping that a tone of concern would soften her up. It didn't.
Instead, it made her more irate. "Is that so?" she lifted her chin arrogantly. "Well, I shall inform you that I am NOT lost. In fact, I am waiting for my uncle to finish his business meeting." She completed her statement hesitantly, which made me certain that she was lying. If there was one thing that one learned in the Rakshana, it was how to detect liars.
"What business is your uncle in?" I asked, unable to keep the smirk off my face. I congratulated myself for such a clever comeback.
She stumbled, and for a moment; I thought that I had her.
"He owns a ship by the bay. He's come to see his captain about loading on some new cargo. Silks and spices, I think. My uncle is very rich." She spoke with confidence now. Impressive. But now the ball was back in my court.
"Which ship?" It was not a very smart question, seeing as she could claim nearly any of the ships in the harbor and I would not be the wiser.
To my favor, she picked the most famous ship in the port, the Queen Victoria, a ship I knew her uncle didn't own.
"Yes," I replied haughtily. "Your uncle owns the Queen Victoria, and I'm a prince's son. Nice try. But I happen to know for a fact that you are lost." I smiled, knowing that my knowing something she didn't would infuriate her.
"Well it's true! My uncle does own the ship!" she persisted.
I rolled my eyes.
"Do you want to know what I think?" she retorted angrily. This was not going well.
"Not really," I returned, "but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway."
She did. "I think you're a nasty little thief who's trying to take my money or kidnap me and sell me to a brothel! And would you like to know what else I think?" She did not give me a chance to answer, but continued on with her bratty little tirade. "I think you are absolutely awful for following me about, sneaking up behind me and staring at me. It's disgusting." She finished with a harrumph, turned on her heel, little nose high in the air, and walked down the street in high dudgeon.
I stood still for a moment before my brain registered that I could not let her get away. I sped after her yelling, "Gemma! Gemma wait!"
She stopped dead and turned to face me. Too late. I'd realized my mistake. I gulped.
"How do you know my name?" her voice was quiet, but formidable nonetheless.
Once again, I was at a loss for words. I simply stared at her while my mind worked furiously in an effort to come up with an excuse she'd believe. Suddenly it hit me, the oldest trick in the book. Flattery. The heat rushed up to my face, for I had never attempted to approach a girl in this way before. But, I knew what had to be done in the name of duty.
"I was sitting by the river fifteen minutes ago and I heard your mother call out to you. I thought Gemma was such a lovely name, just like a jewel. It fits you perfectly because your eyes are like emeralds." I stopped there, not wanting to make it seem overdone, yet also because my face had begun to burn.
My humiliation was worth it though, for she began to smile. After a few moments she said, "Oh, is that all. Well, I was beginning to worry that you were stalking me or some such nonsense. I'm sorry if I was rude to you before."
My eyes were wide as I stared unbelievingly at her. She was demure as a kitten, exactly what I had pictured a British girl to be like.
We stood face to face for a few more awkward moments before she ventured to say, "You were right about what you said. I am lost."
I nodded my head, uncertain of what to do next. I decided to continue with my previous tactic. "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss." Young ladies prefer to be called Miss, or so I had heard. "If you like," I offered, "I could help you find your family." I held out my hand to her; my traitorous heart beating furiously within my chest.
She smiled at me briefly, revealing pristine white teeth. "Thank you. I'd like that." Slowly, she took my outstretched palm. I began to sweat immediately, though I prayed that she didn't notice.
I led her down the streets of Bombay, pretending to lead her to her family when, all the while, I knew that I was taking her to Amar. I felt traitorous as I remembered how I had used her vanity and trust to further my own ambitions. I vowed that I would never do so to anyone ever again.
Dusk was coming fast upon the city. It was my favorite time of day. No one bothered us. Looking back, that was odd. For a proper British girl was never seen walking down the streets with an Indian boy. It simply was not done. Fate must have smiled upon me that day.
I turned into the alley were Amar waited. At the sight of me holding hands with her, Amar raised an eyebrow quizzically. I flashed him the tiniest of triumphant smiles. "This is my brother, Miss. He knows many people in Bombay. If anyone can help you find your parents, he can."
Gemma's already large eyes grew larger still with fear. Perhaps she supposed that I had brought her to Amar so that he could hurt her. Amar saw her fear and quickly spoke up.
"Miss, I assure you that I mean no harm to you." He spoke with a perfect English accent which comforted her, I was sure. Also, he spoke in the gentlest of tones, such a reassuring sound. Sometimes I believed that, even if Amar held someone at the point of a dagger, his voice would make them believe that he meant them no harm. Amar was just that way.
Gemma's fears calmed a little and she allowed me to lead her to my brother. He bowed quickly to her then said in a rich vibrato, "Little miss, you have come just in time to see my new juggling act."
"But my parents!" she pleaded.
"All in good time, Miss. In fact, I can guarantee you that your mother will come to us by the end of the show." It was no mere prediction, either. Amar had placed a spell around the alley that prevented anyone except a priestess from entering the street. As one of the Order, the priestess would be drawn to it eventually. All we had to do was wait.
In a few minutes, Amar's charm and easy grace had won Gemma over. She laughed as he juggled fruit four at a time. Sometimes he was unable to catch one and it fell with a splat to the dusty earth. I laughed too, but most of the time I spent looking at the girl. I cannot say why I felt the need to stare at her, but I did it anyway, until I heard footsteps.
I turned around quickly. A woman walked towards us. She bore the crescent moon necklace and sported bright, enchanting green eyes. It could have been none other than Gemma's mother, my brother's priestess.
I looked quickly at Amar to see his reaction. As he looked at her, I saw an expression cross his face, one that I had never seen before. Was it awe, fear, adoration? Then it was gone.
Amar looked me in the eye and flicked them towards the doorway. I moved silently into the darkened overhang.
I watched as Amar's priestess crushed her daughter in a fierce embrace, admonishing her for wandering off. Jealousy began to boil in the pit of my stomach as I wished that my mother would find me and embrace me like that. She used to. I remember. But I chastised myself for such wishful thinking. What good would it do me?
I noticed that Amar and his priestess had begun to speak. I knew what I was to do. Quick as a flash, I hopped out of the doorway and walked towards Gemma. I began to do cartwheels. She laughed and praised my feats. I will not deny that I very much enjoyed the attention. As I turned myself upside down and around, I saw her face shining, glowing as the last minutes of sunlight were reflected in her reddish- golden hair. Such beautiful hair it was, too.
All too soon, her mother stood up and thanked Amar. My time with the girl was up. As she walked away, I pondered her. I sat quiet for a moment and thought to myself. I had done it all in the name of duty. I had lured her to Amar, entertained her, and seen her off. I had done it all in the name of duty, but had I not enjoyed it as well? Duty. Yes, that was what it was. Yet, as I sat looking off into the sunset's last dying glows, I could not help but remember the lost look on her face as she had wandered the crowd in search of her mother. I could not help but feel the weight of her small smooth hand in mine as we walked through Bombay together. And I could not help but sigh over the beauty of those enchantress eyes as they watched me watch her.
Amar noted my silent state. He smiled at me with an all-too-knowing smile that seemed to penetrate my innermost sanctuary of thought. Yet he let the matter pass. That was his way. I always wound up telling him everything eventually. He had only to wait. Slowly, we walked back to the small room we shared in the city's east side. I took Amar's hand and walked with confidence. I thought fondly on my meeting with Gemma. I thanked the stars for a brother like Amar. I looked passively at the people in the market place, hoping to see my mother. But most of all, I thought that the name Gemma really did suit the girl. Her eyes were exactly like emeralds.
How was it? I really wanted to show the parallels between Gemma and Kartik's relationship in the hypothetical past and their relationship when they are older. Let me know if it was well done. As was pointed out in a review, I realize that Kartik does sound a lot older tha twelve years old. But, realize that this is written from his pov when he is much older. He's sort of reminiscing about his twelve year old self with his seventeen year old emotions and reasoning ability. Also, was the relationship between Amar and Kartik well done? I wanted to show that Kartik had already begun to like Gemma, but he rationalized it because of his duty. He never told Gemma his name, so she isn't going to remember him later on. She never heard Amar's name either. And Kartik, as we know, grows up a hell of a lot in the next five years. She isn't going to recognize him. R and R please! I am a review-begging author and proud of it!