“Ah, I remember him,” muttered Kamala.
“He’s my half-brother.”
“Nasty, nasty.”
“I know.”
“Would you like me to eat him?”
“Definitely not,” I said, a little too quickly. I patted Kamala’s neck. “But I appreciate your offer. It was almost nice.”
“It is nice to be nice,” said Kamala with a sage nod. “And it is also nice to eat people,” she added as an afterthought.
The crowd of people pushed forward. The iron gates were beginning to open.
“A king would never deny a holy person that has come to his doorstep,” said Kamala.
My skin was damp with terror as I allowed the crowd to buffet me to the front. A man pulled me from the swarm, his eyes so bright they looked like gems.
“You must beg the Raja’s audience. He has sent so many of our sons into that war. He has claimed so many of our daughters and not returned them. And now he has forsaken our war hero.”
Another woman ran forward, pressing my hands to her cheeks. “Sadhvi, please. Please help. The Ujijain emperor will not let any of them go. He is calling them all prisoners of war and the Raja Skanda will not ask for their release.”
The Ujijain emperor … could that mean Vikram? I remembered his mother walking through the Otherworld. She had died the same day, still carrying a bundle of wilted flowers. It meant that Amar had chosen to pull out the red thread. It meant that many of my people would die, but that the kingdom would be saved. Peace would come.
I couldn’t look the villagers in the eye. Another person tugged on my arm. I looked down to see a boy with a gap-toothed grin. “Tell him to send Gauri-Ma. She will win him back.”
I stopped walking. “What name did you say?”
“Gauri-Ma,” said the boy again, this time staring at me as though I were a fool.
The man who had first approached me nodded fervently. “Everyone knows her. The princess with the dimpled smile and the deadly aim.”
“She is there now,” said the woman by my elbow, still clutching my hand. “The courtiers are talking about forcing her to break her vow of chastity. The Raja will make her marry. He will make her leave Bharata and her wedding will be her exile.”
“He is furious,” whispered the boy. He mimicked his hands as if he had a swollen belly. Skanda.
Joy and fury warred inside me. Gauri was alive. But now they wanted me to send my own sister to the forefront of a war against a kingdom that would claim so many of Bharata’s people. The crowd pushed us forward, smiling around mouths full of blessings as they damned my sister.
“Is this what fame is like?” whinnied Kamala into my ear. “How delightful.”
“This isn’t fame,” I whispered back to her. “This is fear.”
As we walked forward, I wondered if Skanda had kept our father’s sanctum the same. Maybe that’s why he held court outside. Maybe he never wanted to see helmets piled up, their spaces in the iron opened up for smiles and screams or blood-choked cries. Or maybe, it was too full of helmets to make room for people and plans. Maybe it was just a mausoleum now.
The people formed a dense semicircle around me and Kamala. We stood at the end of the Raja’s welcoming “hall.” It was a makeshift platform. Up close, the lotus blossoms that I thought had strung its sides were nothing more than artfully folded ribbons of silk. Had we run out of flowers too?
Skanda braced his elbows on his knees. The smile he flashed was too narrow.
“You are the first ascetic to pass through the realm of Bharata in quite some time,” he said.
A layered greeting. Skanda had at least some shadow of our father’s style. But there was also a glint in his eye. He did not believe I was a sadhvi and I didn’t blame him. I moved awkwardly in my hermetic garb, constantly tugging at the turmeric-yellow robes and pushing the crusted ash and salt off my skin. Maybe a real sadhvi wouldn’t do such a thing.
“To what do we owe this honor?”
Every pair of eyes turned to me. I pushed my body a little closer to Kamala, fumbling for the right words.
“I—” I paused, racking my brains and thinking of the boy’s words. “I’m here to see … Gauri.”
Skanda’s eyes narrowed.
“The Princess Gauri.”
Oh God, I hope I am right. I hope that’s who the boy meant. I hope he didn’t take me for a fool.
“Why?”
“I have traveled across … places … places of great woe. Of great”—I turned, looking at the crowd of people pressing up one against the other, and thought about everything they’d said and everything they wanted—“of great sorrow. I am here to warn you that no place is safe. And that an army is necessary to protect its people.”
“We have enough of our army remaining.”
Before I could say another word, a furious growl ripped across the platform. I jerked my head up just in time to see Gauri storming across the stage and pushing aside the weak efforts of Skanda’s guards to block her.
“Remaining,” she repeated in a furious voice.
I could hardly speak. Joy blossomed in my heart. Here she was. Gauri was safe. More than that, I realized, as I followed the expressions on the citizens of Bharata’s faces: She was adored. Gauri was strongly built, and she wore her hair like I once had, scraped back in a tight braid.
Even as she glowered, dimples flashed in her cheeks. But the most striking thing of all was what she wore. She had forsaken the garb of the harem women and wore the armor of a soldier. But her outfit was different; it was inlaid with emerald, so that when she moved, the light skittered across the metal like light dancing on a pond. She looked like a beautiful naga woman, a snake goddess wreathed in light, moving serpentine and sly.
“You cannot be serious, brother, even the sadhvi has pointed out the error of your ways. Our city could come under attack at any point. We should be ready. You should send me to reclaim the lost troops from the Ujijain Empire.”
“My city,” corrected Skanda, this time standing up so fast, he toppled a platter of sweets that was waiting beside him. “My empire. I have indulged you for too long. I allowed you to train beside the other soldiers. I allowed you to show your feats of archery to the citizens of Bharata. I allowed you to leave the harem and walk through the cities, acting as my ambassador. And now you dare to spar with me in front of an audience?”
One man beside me clenched his jaw, and I sensed that a fight would break out in her defense if Skanda made one wrong move. Skanda must have noticed because he suddenly sat down, his face assuming a blanket of calm.
“Now that the sadhvi woman is here, perhaps we could let her decide.”
No one would argue with that. Even Gauri bowed her head deferentially. I shifted my feet and attempted some measure of mysticism and authority.
“Does your stomach ail you?” whispered Kamala.
My attempt clearly failed.
“I would be honored to settle the dispute,” I said loudly.
Gauri was looking at me quizzically, her eyes roving over my face and hands … settling at my neck. Did she recognize the necklace that was once hers? If she did, she gave no sign. I bowed at the hip, deftly spinning the sapphire pendant away from my throat and onto the back of my neck. I loved Gauri, but if she didn’t trust me, she might out me as a thief by accident.
“Then it is settled. You will be my guest,” said Skanda.
“What about me?” muttered Kamala in my ear.
“And my horse?”
“And the horse,” said Skanda, with such false graciousness, I almost considered letting Kamala eat him.
22
EONS AND BLINKS
There’s nothing quite as strange as having an old and familiar haunt explained back to you in an alien language, with unfamiliar words and false skins stretched over each place like a new blanket. Skanda and his retinue of yes-men escorted Kamala and me through the grounds, asking us to bless things. I tried to act spiritual, but I wouldn’
t consider it a rousing success. When Skanda asked me to make an offering that would bring him happiness, I threw an offering on Varuni. The goddess of wine. And when Skanda asked me to prophesy about the future of his reign and his legacy, Kamala urinated on his foot.
Skanda led us through the gardens, his gaze fixed on a pretty attendant who was constantly—although reluctantly—handing him a goblet brimming with some liquid dark as blood.
The gardens were a ghost of their former glory. My father had spent years tending these orchards, walking through them with his hands clasped behind his back. Years ago, there had been mirror-lined fountains to catch the sun. The orchard had been so illuminated that each new blossom wore a golden nimbus. There had been fish in inky ponds, shimmering iridescent beneath the water’s surface, lively moons in miniature. There had been thousands of trees heavy with jewel-bright fruit. I knew. I had climbed those trees, plucking fragrant guavas and devouring their rose and saltwater flesh right there.
All of that had changed. Bharata had changed. The air was leeched of all warmth, but that didn’t make it any less dry and dusty in my throat. The trees had been reduced to mere spindles. Someone had strung pennants in them, but they hung limply in the windless air. My throat tightened as I stared at the place that had once been so familiar. If Bharata hadn’t believed in ghosts when I lived beneath its walls, then it certainly believed in them now. This place, this city looked carven and gaunt. When we stood in the garden, Skanda dismissed everyone. Even Gauri, despite how stubborn she was about never letting us out of her sight, caught his mood and left.
“This is where my father once instructed me,” said Skanda, pointing to a familiar row of now desiccated neem, sweet-almond and fig trees.
Scolded, more like. I resisted the urge to laugh. “It is rare that a ruler would spend time in the company of his offspring. No doubt you are quite blessed, Your Majesty. What lessons did he impart?”
“He once told me to remember that the illusion of power is just as great as actual power,” he said slowly.
I stiffened. He knew I was no sadhvi.
“You understand my predicament,” said Skanda in a wheedling voice.
Kamala cast me a sidelong gaze and whinnied, pawing at the ground. She didn’t need to say any words of warning. The moment Skanda spoke, my eyes sharpened.
“Tell me what I should understand,” I said.
Skanda let out a long breath. “Times are very different for the realm than what they might have been once upon a time. My father died valiantly in battle. After that, people lost faith. There has been a war raging on the outskirts of Bharata long before I became the ruler of this realm. At one point, we had the upper hand. My father invited the war leaders here for a wedding.”
My hands clenched. “What happened?”
Skanda shrugged. “We don’t know. One minute the girl was there, the next minute she wasn’t. It made the leaders furious.”
“What happened to her?”
Skanda snorted. “Who knows? Who cares? She escaped all this.”
“No one remembered her?”
“I believe she had some horrible horoscope, one way or the other. I cannot remember. But horoscopes have gone out of fashion. No one cares about those things anymore. The stars have lied so much to us.”
I didn’t know whether his words were more comforting or dismal. The Bharata I knew had fixated on the abstract language of comets and star patterns. Listening to Skanda felt like examining an old scar. I saw the wound Bharata had left in me, but it was a relic of something time and magic had sewn together. If Bharata could have changed over so many years into some entirely different beast, then maybe I had too.
“The people have not seen a sadhu come through our palace walls in years,” said Skanda. “And I know for a fact that you are no sadhvi.”
My head jerked toward him. “Sire, I—”
“No need,” said Skanda. “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t care if you’re a fraud or not. The illusion is enough. I haven’t seen my people this excited in years. I’ll pay you whatever you want, just make sure you put on a good show. In particular, silence my sister. You already met her.”
“What exactly has she done wrong?” I tried to keep the protective edge out of my voice, but Skanda’s gaze turned flinty.
“She wants to volunteer herself on a useless reconnaissance mission to find out what happened to a handful of our soldiers.”
“Were they important?”
“They were elite members of the service. But new ones can be trained. Anything, and anyone, can be replaced,” he said, falling silent. “Even me.”
I regarded Skanda. He wasn’t as dumb as he seemed. He was, even though I hated to admit it, a little perceptive. If only he wasn’t so lazy. Perhaps he really would have made our father’s legacy something noteworthy. But I could sense his weakness. He was scared. He was selfish. And that was a dangerous combination.
“Why don’t you want the Princess of Bharata to go?”
“Illusion,” he said, gesturing with sweaty hands toward the failing orchard around us. “I need to hold on to the illusion of power. If that slips the moment Gauri leaves, then I am finished. They’ll probably throw me out.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I do not know. You’re the charlatan. Fake something. Some ceremony where you can counsel her otherwise, and then announce it to the realm. It has to be something that all the people can understand and empathize with.”
Kamala snorted, pushing her muzzle into my hand and leaving dark tracts of mud—and something else, which I didn’t want to discover—on my palms. Her anger was a palpable thing.
“You have my word, sire,” I said.
Kamala whinnied, nibbling on my arm, and I swatted her.
“Excellent,” said Skanda. “You can settle up with the royal treasurer at the end. What do you have in mind?”
Behind him, a slight shadow dipped in and out behind a banyan tree. I held back another smile. Gauri. No doubt she’d heard everything. There was no way I would follow Skanda’s plan, admirable though it might have been. His heart wasn’t in the right place. At least when my father made sneaky decisions, they were always for the good of the country. Never just to save face.
“With your permission, sire, I’d like to hold vigil outside the palace temples and allow those members of the royal court to speak with me at will. If you can convince the Princess Gauri to join in one of the sessions, perhaps have another member of the court … a harem wife whom Gauri is close with … to join and stand as witness to our session, I can craft the correct words to announce to the court.”
“Excellent.”
He tugged his hand through his hair and my heart clenched, a brief memory of Amar flashing in my mind. There were so many times in Naraka that I had watched him do something similar. So many times that he had twirled one dark curl around his long fingers. I needed to get back to him. I couldn’t let go of too much time.
“By your leave, Your Majesty, I would like to hold that session today.”
“Today?” repeated Skanda, stunned.
“I believe it would look more natural to your citizens. An immediate announcement revealing the change in the princess’s mind would show some transparency. That perhaps you had not bullied or bribed me into saying such words by holding me within the palace walls for more than a day.”
Skanda nodded approvingly. “You’re quite bright for a charlatan sadhvi. How long have you been in this business of deception?”
Oh, if only he knew.
“Years,” I said through a thin smile.
“Consider it done.”
Skanda pointed me to the palace temple, cast a nervous glance at Kamala and stalked off in the direction of one of his yes-man advisers.
“What is it?” I hissed at Kamala. “I thought you were going to talk right then and there and then we would’ve been thrown out.”
Kamala wouldn’t look at me. “It’s the Dharma Raja.”
I froze. “What about him?”
“I can sense him.” The blue veins that once stood out so prominently on her skin had begun to sink beneath pearlescent hair. Even the garnet gaze of her eyes had receded into something bright and black. Thoroughly animal.
“And?”
“He was here, but only for a moment.”
“Where did he go?”
“I couldn’t tell you that, not for all the salt-skin in the world.” Kamala sighed.
“Do you know where he was?”
“That’s the thing I was trying to tell you, maybe-queen!” exclaimed Kamala, pawing at the ground. “He was at the Chakara Forest. You were right.”
I was right. There was a soft glow of warmth in that knowledge, even if knowing that I had just missed him rent through me like a new wound. I had trusted my instinct and it had been right. I could have reveled in her words if they didn’t make me furious.
Kamala sighed. “But there is something else.”
“What?”
“He left something in his stead.”
“In the same place?”
“Yes.”
“What did he leave behind?”
“I don’t know. My own senses do not tell me such things. Though that would be a great help. I wouldn’t have to lie in wait, hiding behind bushes and hoping some unsuspecting stupid person would wander past me. They might even wear such signs on their heads proclaiming, ‘Eat me!’ and such a thing would be—”
“Is the thing moving?”
“Yes, yes, but only in the area. I think it is dormant. It is waiting, I suspect, for something.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh silly Rani, silly sadhvi, I have had so much experience with death. I know that it is waiting. It is waiting for the soft thud of freshly culled souls. It is waiting to paint its lips red with blood. It is waiting to crunch bones and wear them like clattering raiment and robes.”
“Does that mean the Dharma Raja will return to the spot?”
“Yes.”
“How long does death usually wait?”
The Star-Touched Queen Page 19
