WORK BEGINS

Chitralekha poured water over Harshal's head.

Blood ran down his face. Into his eyes. He didn't blink.

"Why is there blood stuck to your hair, mister?" Her voice was sharp. "Do you ever wash?"

Harshal sat on a stone. Half naked. Bruises dark on his ribs. His back raw where Copy-Blade had burned through. He wasn't listening.

Chitralekha grabbed his chin. Turned his face toward her.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Harshal's eyes met hers. Flat. Tired.

"Just wash me. I don't care."

She stared at him for a second. Then let go. Poured more water. Harder.

"If you could have washed yourself and teleported, you wouldn't need me."

Harshal didn't move. Water dripped down his chest. Red turned pink. Pink turned clear.

He looked at her. "You made me sit here half naked. What else do you want?"

Chitralekha stopped. The pitcher in her hand. Water still dripping.

"I want you to answer me, sir."

The door opened.

Usha peeked in. Her head through the crack. Eyes wide.

"Is he washed?"

Chitralekha didn't turn. "Get out."

Usha pushed the door wider. "I want to see him. I have heard he is cute."

Chitralekha turned now. Eyes sharp.

"You are married, Usha. Get out."

Usha's voice came pleading. "Please. Let me in. I just want to see him."

Chitralekha's voice rose. "I will call Aniruddha."

Usha stepped back. Hands up. "Okay, okay. I will go."

The door closed slowly. Soft click.

Chitralekha exhaled. Turned back to Harshal.

"Okay. Done. Get on the bed."

Harshal's eyes narrowed. "What?"

She gestured at his bruises. His cuts. His raw back.

"For the bruises. I can't draw you like this."

Harshal didn't move. His voice came flat.

"I am not going anywhere. If you want, you will treat me here."

Chitralekha's eyes didn't blink. Her voice dropped. Cold.

"If you do not follow my orders, Brahma's fragment, you will not go anywhere."

Harshal lay on the bed.

A royal bed. Silk sheets. Wooden frame carved with gods he didn't recognize. His back hurt. His ribs hurt. Everything hurt.

He looked around. "Why are we in your palace?"

Chitralekha didn't look up. She was checking his ribs. Pressing where the bruises were darkest.

"I am going to draw you here. And you will listen."

Her fingers moved to his chest. Found a cut. Pressed.

Then she stopped.

His lung. Right side. The skin underneath was turning blue. Dark blue. Wrong.

She touched it. "Mjolnir?"

Harshal nodded.

She pressed again. Felt the tissue underneath. Her face was calm. Clinical.

"Minor swelling on your lung tissues. It will heal."

Her fingers moved up. Across his collarbone. Across his shoulder.

Then she stopped again.

A scar. Small. Golden. Faint light under the skin.

She touched it. Her voice dropped.

"A golden scar." She looked at him. "Gungnir?"

Harshal didn't answer.

She didn't need one.

Chitralekha stepped back. Looked at his chest. His ribs. The blue swelling. The golden scar.

"It is going to take at least two months to heal."

Harshal sat up. "What? Two months? I don't have that much time. I have to leave."

He almost got up.

She pushed him back down. One hand on his chest. Firm. Not gentle.

"You are not going anywhere."

Her eyes went back to his wounds. The golden scar. The blue bruise over his lung. Then to his hands.

"How did you survive this? A scar from Gungnir. Mjolnir's wound on your chest." She turned his wrist. Looked at the marks there. "And what are these?"

Harshal pulled his hand back. His voice came flat.

"Why do you care? Your work is to take me to the World Tree, draw me, and in return I give you one month of my time."

He looked at her.

"And what are you? You are not my wife. I am not obliged to answer these questions."

Chitralekha stared at him for a long moment.

Then she picked up the pitcher again. Poured water over his chest. Wiped the blood away.

"Two months," she said. "You will stay. You will heal. And you will answer."

Chitralekha pulled him up. His ribs ached. His back burned. He didn't fight.

Her maiden stood at the door. Eyes wide. Staring at his chest. His arms. The muscles he'd earned from weeks of flying and fighting.

Harshal looked at her. Then at his own chest. Then back at her.

"Hey. My face is here. But you can continue to look."

The maiden's eyes shot up to his face. A blush crept up her neck.

"How are you this cute even after being a fragment of Brahma?"

Across the universe, Brahma sat in meditation.

His four heads faced four directions. His eyes were closed. His breath was the rhythm of creation.

Then he sneezed.

One head jerked. His nose wrinkled. He opened his eyes, rubbed his nose, and went back to meditation.

Back in the palace, Chitralekha pulled Harshal down the hall. Toward the drawing room.

Two soldiers stood at the door. Armor polished. Spears in hand. They stared at him.

Harshal stared back.

He punched the first one. Dropped him.

The second one reached for his spear. Harshal punched him too. Both on the ground.

Chitralekha grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"

She pulled him past the soldiers. Harshal looked back.

"Where are the maidens? I have heard they are pretty. And less annoying."

Chitralekha didn't answer. Pushed him into the room. Made him sit on a couch.

She stood behind him. Stroked his hair. Brushed off the water still stuck there.

"We are just going to draw a draft, okay? The final piece will take time."