Jaani Quotes

You once said your soul could never forget mine,” I said, sliding the mended bracelet around his wrist. “Do you remember now?” He inhaled sharply, like something had rent through him. Around his wrist, the bracelet glowed like a caught star. “Jaani,” he breathed, staring at me.

Instinctively, my eyes clasped on Amar’s. He was shocked, his face pale. He grabbed me; his hands entangled in my hair even as my fingers were wrapped around the hilt that destroyed him. “I love you, jaani. My soul could never forget you. It would retrace every step until it found you.” He looked at me, his dark eyes dulling, as if all the love that had once lit them to black mirrors was slowly disappearing. “Save me.

I twined the bracelet together, letting it hover mere inches from his skin. I had no expectation, no method, no strategy. I was blind and clinging to a bruised piece of hope. But it was all I had. “You once said your soul could never forget mine,” I said, sliding the mended bracelet around his wrist. “Do you remember now?” He inhaled sharply, like something had rent through him. Around his wrist, the bracelet glowed like a caught star. “Jaani,” he breathed, staring at me.

I watched, paralyzed, as Nritti sank the blade into his heart. Amar shuddered, his body tense. The muscles of his neck stood out in sharp relief. His eyes rolled back, the whites of his sockets glistening before they focused on me. “Jaani,” he said, a shaky smile curling his lips. Amar tapped his lips twice, one hand fluttering to his heart. And then he went still. I blinked back tears, and a scream wrenched from my throat. Grief cut me, separating me like a soul from its body. I was nothing more than a being of fury and heartbreak.

You have gone too far,” said Amar. Nritti grinned. “You have not even begun to witness the destruction I can wreak.” “We won’t give you that chance,” I said. Amar moved to my side. He didn’t crouch behind or run in front. He stood by my side as an equal. He laced his fingers in mine, his expression handsomely severe. “What should we do, jaani?” “Restore the light,” I said. Amar grinned. He wrung his hands like he was balancing an invisible sphere, his face drawn in focus. In the space between his fingers, a small pinprick of light began to whirl faster and faster.

The bed sank as Amar sat beside me. Warm fingertips trailed across my cheek, brushing the hair from my forehead and sending sparks of light up my spine. His lips grazed my temples. “Soon, jaani.” I waited until his footsteps echoed outside before squinting around the room. Without him, it seemed colder. I retraced his touch lightly, careful to avoid smudging the imprint of his lips against my skin. He had called me jaani--“my life.” I stared at the closed door. Where his skin touched mine felt burnished, hallowed by the words he left hanging in the air. Jaani jaani jaani. I wanted him to say it again. I wanted him to say it closer to my ear, my neck…my lips. But the surge of warmth faded as the memory of my dream prickled behind my eyes. Magic was not the only coaxing, dangerous thing around me.

You have to trust me, my love. There has only been you. I know who you are. You are my queen. You always have been.” I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel his gaze on me. So pained and tender that I fought the need to run to him, to comfort him. But I couldn’t push out the image of the woman in the glass garden. I couldn’t forget Gauri’s necklace encrusted with blood. I couldn’t forget how he had hinted at some latent power within me, and yet I couldn’t move a single thread on the tapestry. I couldn’t forget his lies. “Go near that tree and I will lose you forever,” he said fiercely. “Your memories won’t keep. Your powers will be gone.” Amar staggered toward me, and this time, I couldn’t help but look at him. His eyes held mine in a firm, unyielding gaze. “Jaani, I put too much of myself and my own memories into the tree.

Instinctively, my eyes clasped on Amar’s. He was shocked, his face pale. He grabbed me; his hands entangled in my hair even as my fingers were wrapped around the hilt that destroyed him. “I love you, jaani. My soul could never forget you. It would retrace every step until it found you.” He looked at me, his dark eyes dulling, as if all the love that had once lit them to black mirrors was slowly disappearing. “Save me.” The glow of the candles cast pools of light onto the ground, illuminating his profile. I knew, now, why Nritti begged me not to look at him. His gaze unlocked something in me. It was both visceral and ephemeral, like heavy light. The eyes of death revealed every recess of the soul and every locked-away memory of my past and present life converged into one gaze… I was weightless, my vison unfocused and hazy until the memory of the woman in the glass garden engulfed me. Slowly, the woman turned and a wave of shock shot through me--I was staring at myself.

Amar reached out to cup the back of my neck. I shuddered. I had forgotten how cold his hands were, like the soul of winter had tangled itself in his fingers. He stared at me and his gaze had all the finality of death--it was ferocious and terrible, a ravel of locked horns. He was searching me. I knew exactly what he was looking for-- Himself. I twined the bracelet together, letting it hover mere inches from his skin. I had no expectation, no method, no strategy. I was blind and clinging to a bruised piece of hope. But it was all I had. “You once said your soul could never forget mine,” I said, sliding the mended bracelet around his wrist. “Do you remember now?” He inhaled sharply, like something had rent through him. Around his wrist, the bracelet glowed like a caught star. “Jaani,” he breathed, staring at me. He clutched his chest, an amazed smile turning his face incandescent. I grinned so widely that I thought the air would bend around us, pushing us together. His fingers entwined in my hair and he tilted my face up.

I am the Dharma Raja for a reason. I would not have my own impartiality questioned by favoring you. Surely, you knew this.” “What would you have done if I failed?” “You couldn’t fail,” said Amar. “That’s why I did not worry. You were meant to be the queen of these lands. We were meant to rule together. For all of eternity.” “I would rather die than rule by the side of a coward.” Shadows curled away from Amar’s body. “Coward?” he hissed. “Cowardice is running from the difficult choices made by the ones that love you most. If I have been a coward, so have you, jaani. But we may start anew. Let us not speak of this time any longer.” He tried, once more, to tilt my face into a kiss, but I moved away. “I saw you spread the rumors yourself in the Otherworld. I watched you take solace in another’s arms. And if surviving the agni pariksha means spending eternity with you, then I would rather live life as a mortal.” The room became damp and sticky with darkness. “What lies you hurl at me,” he murmured. “I don’t trust you.” He stepped back, wounded. “Has your judgment become so compromised? If you truly do not believe the truth in my words, then you have no place here.” We stared at one another, fury swelling between us. The silence expanded, solidifying our words like manacles. “Once, I thought you loved me,” I said in a broken voice. “I refuse to live in your shadow for the rest of eternity.” His eyes widened, obsidian eyes searching and disbelieving. “Then leave!” he said, gesturing to the door angrily.

Power is about balance, remember?” He stepped back, his face paling, black eyes narrowing to slits. “I did not ask for your wisdom, false sadhvi. You do not know me.” My heart was breaking. I thought I knew, finally, what it meant to be a ghost. It meant speaking your words around a mouth full of loss. It meant grasping into echoes and hoping, praying that the words still meant something. “I know your soul,” I said, my voice cracking. “Everything else is an ornament.” “You have a strange effect on me…why is that?” he asked softly. “Beside you, I am reminded of something I have forgotten.” My hands fell to my sides. There, beneath the rags of my robes, the fabric was raised and bumpy and I knew what lay beneath it--a broken circlet of hair. I fished it out of the pocket. My whole body was trembling, shaking against its restraints of bone. Amar reached out to cup the back of my neck. I shuddered. I had forgotten how cold his hands were, like the soul of winter had tangled itself in his fingers. He stared at me and his gaze had all the finality of death--it was ferocious and terrible, a ravel of locked horns. He was searching me. I knew exactly what he was looking for-- Himself. I twined the bracelet together, letting it hover mere inches from his skin. I had no expectation, no method, no strategy. I was blind and clinging to a bruised piece of hope. But it was all I had. “You once said your soul could never forget mine,” I said, sliding the mended bracelet around his wrist. “Do you remember now?” He inhaled sharply, like something had rent through him. Around his wrist, the bracelet glowed like a caught star. “Jaani,” he breathed, staring at me.