She didn’t mention Mahishasura, and I didn’t ask. After all, what could either of us say? The Good Witch couldn’t help us. Mysore Palace was still impassable. And Mahishasura was too strong to fight.

How were we supposed to win?

22

Exhausted, I staggered in and out of a shower, put my poor unicorn pajamas into another cycle in the wash (minus my pencil this time), and collapsed into a dreamless sleep. When Suki woke me, the sun was blazing hot and I had been asleep in the full glare of it for so long that my shoulder was sunburned. Awesome.

I tried not to think of how much I hated that it had been Suki who had come to wake me instead of Pip.

“Simha made lunch,” Suki said, and winced dramatically. “I think it would be rude not to eat it, but I am not convinced that lions are good cooks.”

That got my attention. “What did he make?”

“Um. Rabbit.”

“Rabbit,” I repeated.

“Yep. He went out this morning, hunted a rabbit, stuck it in the oven, and put it on the table. There’s more.” Suki took a deep breath. “He didn’t use any spices.”

“He wants us to eat bland rabbit?”

“He told us we could flavor it with tea like he does,” said Suki.

This was too much for me. “I think I’ll stay up here, thanks.”

She giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth like she was shocked she had done such a thing. I followed her downstairs, reluctantly.

There was an atmosphere of doom in the kitchen, with everyone eyeing the crispy rabbit on the table with deep suspicion. Simha hovered close by, clearly excited to see us eat the fruits of his labors. When his back was turned, Jojo’s hand crept toward the salt, but Samara smacked it away so he wouldn’t hurt Simha’s feelings. At which point there was really nothing to do except eat the rabbit.

For a few minutes, as grimaces were covertly swapped around the table and cries of “Yummy!” were forced out through pained smiles, it felt like Pip was still here, there were no Asuras, and nothing had ever gone wrong. Even Lej made his way gamely through his portion of the rabbit, and, in the end, the look of pride on Simha’s face when he saw our empty plates made it all worth it.

My hand closed over the pencil stub in my pocket. I wanted so badly to draw them all just like this. Taking one step, and another, and another, in spite of how much they had been hurt.

After lunch, much to everyone’s horror, Simha informed us that what we needed after losing Pip was, and I quote, some nurturing. Having apparently decided that that nurturing should fall to him, he embarked on cleaning the house, a process that involved licking dust off the surfaces and surfing down the halls on soapy dishcloths. Then he made a menu of meals he planned to cook over the next week, and Suki, who snuck up behind him to read his very awkward writing, raced back to report that she had spotted alarming phrases like salt is unhealthy and absolutely no sugar.