In the last chapter it was explained that there was a festival for the Hindi Goddess Kali. Erik left Corinna a bit flustered.

Ch 14

The sun had already set by the time Erikshaved, dressedand knocked on Corinna and Ursula's door. Ursula was still not feeling well. The room was kept dark for her comfort. Erikglanced over Corinna's shoulder and insisted on checking up on Ursula before they left. She squawked and put up a fight but did nothing more than exhaust herself. She pulled the sheets up to her nose and glared at him.

"Pig," she said in Hindi to Corinna.

"He's trying to help," Corinna replied. She smiled to herself as she watched Erik walk over to Ursula's bed. He had taken his duty of looking after both of them to heart.

Erik pointed to his head. "Here?" he asked. He then pointed to his stomach. "Or here?"

Ursula pointed at her head. She moaned something and Erik turned to Corinna with a questioning look on his face.

"She said it's just a headache and you shouldn't worry," Corinna explained.

"You should stay in," Ursula added in Hindi. "He'll ruin you."

"I'm fine."

"What will you tell your father?"

Corinna shifted her weight. "That he was a gentleman for checking on you and for agreeing to take me out to the Kali Festival."

"Will you tell him you spent the evening unattended? With a married man?"

"Father trusts me."

Erik looked from Corinna to Ursula and back again. "What did she say?"

"She said we shouldn't stay out late," Corinna lied.

Erik stared at her a moment but didn't protest. "She's right. The DeChantels will undoubtedly be tiring tomorrow."

He offered his arm and together they left Ursula to scowl and rest alone. Corinna glanced back once before the door closed and saw Ursula had turned her back on the disgraceful man who had entered her room.

From the little Erik had picked up on Hindu culture he wondered why there wasn't a Nagini Festival to celebrate the protectors of water. Given that Chandernagore was on the crescent-shaped river bend seemed more appropriate than Kali, whom he had only seen depicted as standing on her husband Shavi's chest and thigh.

"So, who is Kali?" Erik asked over the drums thumping in the night.

The air was thick with humidity. The change into more traditional Indian attire felt surprisingly more comfortable to Erik. Being in a loose-fitting shirt and pants felt better than a long-sleeved shirt, waistcoat, and overcoat. It was a relief to be rid of a cravat and so many layers of clothing.

"Kali is the Black Goddess," Corinna said. She stepped closer and leaned against his arm. "The Goddess Noir," she said with a giggle.

"I don't know that one."

"Durga? Do you know Durga?"

Erik thought a moment. "I've heard the name. Sanskrit, right? Although I don't know the meaning. She's a warrior, correct?"

Corinna's eyes widened. She was surprised at Erik's interest and knowledgeof her culture. Since the day he had arrived he had looked ready to return to Europe.

"Her name means 'she who is incomprehensible or difficult to reach'. Kali is one of the many forms of Durga. It is said Kali came from the brow of Durga while she slay a demon. She is the force of power."

"Power?" he asked, cocking a brow.

"Tonight, we celebrate the black Goddess."

"She sounds menacing," he teased.

They walked along the Hughli River where ferries made their way up to the docks on both sides of the river. Votives in glass jars adorned the walkways where Erik and Corinna traveled toward a large tent. The firelight appeared brighter as the night grew darker.

Ebony statues perched on pedestals greeted them as they walked into a throng of visitors. There were torches on either side of the four-armed deities that shed golden glows onto the fierce black faces of the carvings.

Erik found it peculiar that a predominantly French settlement would hold a festival for a Hindi Goddess, but he was nonetheless intrigued. The city was slowly losing its French influences and returning back to the people of India. Everything seemed in contrast from the little bakeries and cobbler shops to the open markets so typical for places like Calcutta.

Walking toward the river was one of the first times he felt drawn to the culture around him.

"Is that human hair?" Erik asked aghast as he neared a four-armed carved statue.

"I'm not sure," Corinna replied.

Erik continued to study the image of a woman holding a sword in one hand a severed head in the other. She held both itemsin her left hands while the right hands were kept empty. Though intricately carved and beautiful, the effigy made Erik increasingly uncomfortable.

"What is she the Goddess of?" Erik asked at last.

"Well, there are many ways to describe Kali. She is the Divine Mother, the Goddess of life and destruction," Corinna answered. "Through chaos there is renewal."

Erik said nothing. He could clearly see destruction throughher garland made of skulls and wild hair. She had three eyes, which his gaze returnedto again and again.

"Is shea Goddess or some sort of demon?" he asked. For the first time in many months he would have liked to havebeen neara Catholic church. It had been far too long since he had asked for forgiveness. The thought saddened him deeply. His parents had been right. He had become nothing.

Corinna stepped closer. "She is the Mother Goddess; forceful yet compassionate. Come, you'll see more inside."

He was about to protest when a wave of sound thundered over the riverfront. The drums were getting louder. Erik looked up, drawn to the sound of percussions and horns. He could hear chanting melding with the beat of the drums and the clap of hands.

Music. Primal, beautiful music wrapped around Erik's mind and coaxed him to move forward.

Entranced by the sound and the sight of men and women dancing, Erikstarted toward the tent withCorinna struggling to keep the pace. He had never heard anything like the musiccoming from the large burgundy pavilion.

Erik struggled to the front row of spectators and stood stock still, mesmerized by the swirl of bright scarves and saris, andthe sound of little bells and cymbals that blended into the harsh rhythm of animal skin drums and the haunting sound of conch shells.

Erik had no idea how long they watched or when one song ended and another began. All hecould dowas stop and stare, mentally recording the sights and sounds.

His obsession with music had fadedover theyears as design became his primary occupation. The little Sultana had notcared much for music or art. She kept no songbirds and hired no musicians. The palace had been a wasteland of arts and entertainment. Even the gardens had been of no interest to the Sultana. Only sharpened thorns and poisonous flora had convinced her of hiring groundskeepers to care for the plants.

Erik swallowed hard and blinked several times. He didn't want to think of the Sultana or Persia. This was a celebration, a night of drink and dance. Everything around him elicited a shiver of excitement, of ecstasy.

His eyes fixed on the women dancing. Several East Indians were attempting to teach two round-faced European women the moves to the dance while they're husbands looked on. The novices giggled and stumbled through the flicks of wrists and weavings of arms. The footwork was impossible for them to grasp and soon they gave up and fluttered back into the crowd to wait on the arms of their impressed spouses.

Erik was surprised he hadn't seen Joseph and Lilian DeChantel. Joseph would have been enjoying brandy while Lilian would have most likely been sharing in the festivities.

When Erik finally turned to Corinna to ask if she knew the dance, he found her staring at him rather than the dancers. The distance in Corinna's eyes had him concerned.

"You're having a good time?" Corinna asked with a hint of surprise in her voice. She seemed startled when he turned to face her.

"Yes. Are you?" Erik asked. He had lost the anxiety in his expression once the music had led him to the tent. The sound had become a release to him, a relief of something he had long forgotten he loved.

Corinna pressed her lips closed to keep from yawning.

"Yes, of course."

Erik studied her for a moment and saw how she strained to keep her eyes opened. "As entertaining as this is, I should probably take you back to your room."

Corinna made no protest. "I'm sorry. It's rude of me to ruin your night."

"No, it's getting late," Erik replied. He glanced at his pocket watch and saw that it wasn't even nine o'clock. "Come, before Ursula thinks I've lost you."

She smiled and took his arm.

Throughout the night a question had twisted through Corinna's mind. She had walked in on Joseph and Erik's conversation earlier than either man had realized. Each time she looked at Erik—which had been more often than necessary—she wondered what had happened to his back. There were scars, whip marks by the look of them, marring his skin. It gave her gooseflesh just thinking about the reddened, raised wounds that ruined a living Adonis.

He had been flogged recently by the looks of it. What had happened to this man? She wondered.

It seemed far too intimate to look at him half-dressed, and the scars only added to her discomfort. Erik had turned before she hadstudied the markings, but what she did remember was branded in her mind.

"You're being unusually pensive tonight," Erik commented.

The music faded as they crossed from the street along the Hughli River to the inn where they were staying for the week

Corinna shrugged. "I must be more exhausted than I first thought."

Erik grunted. The air was finally cooling off and the breeze coming off the waterfelt good against their skin. Everything about the night had finally lightened his mood.

"I thought I would enjoy your silence but it's worse than your constant chatter."

Corinna smiled. The question was dancing on her tongue, begging to flutter like a pixie into the night. She didn't want to stop at only a question. She wanted more. Corinna swallowed hard and tried to push those thoughts from her mind.

It was improper. Dangerous. Salacious. Her hands began to tremble, palms sweating as she thought of pulling the shirt over his head and running her hand down his spine, over the scars, over the long muscles. She wanted to touch him…

All night she had stared at him. He hadn't noticed her study the right side of his face, the curve of his jaw, the length of his neck leading down to his shoulders. She had studied the intensity in his eyes, the passion of his gaze as he succumbed to music.

Her father would have been horrified that she took interest in a European man. He had purposely taken her out of England to keep her from the British men who often followed exotic girls down the streets. Her father had become increasingly worried about her alone in London.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Corinna struggled to find her voice. Erik would either be amused or horrified by her bawdy thoughts.

"Yes," she answered hoarsely.

Erik chuckled. "Maybe I should carry you the rest of the way," he jested. He turned and playfully offered her a ride on his back.

"I'd hurt you," she said quickly.

"I'm stronger than that," he laughed again as he turned to face her. "How would you—?" Erik stared at her for a moment and saw the apprehension in her eyes before he turned away again. His jaw tightened and his pace quickened as his anger flared. "Why were you spying?" he asked gruffly.

"I wasn't spying," she said under her breath. She bowed her head and lagged behind like a scolded dog.

"What were you doing then?"

"Bringing you clothes," Corinna answered meekly.

Erik reached the front porch steps and skipped ever other one until he stood by the red double doors. He turned his back on her while he waited.

Corinna tiptoed silently up the stairs. She stood behind Erik and waited for him to open the door and walk inside.

"My business is my own," he seethed. "You are only a child, a silly, insolent child in need of a nanny. Why were you prying?"

Corinna's eyes brimmed with tears as he accused her. "I wasn't, Erik, I—"

He snorted. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning," he replied. He opened the door and nodded to the waiting darkness.

With her head hanging low Corinna dragged herself upstairs. She heard the door shut behind her.

He hadn't followed.

"I care for you," she said quietly.