Chapter 14
Someone had pulled me out from under the hedge.
They told me later I was screaming, but I wasn’t sure.
I just found myself on the ground, staring at my red-stained hands, as they hastily covered Ektha with Parushi’s sash and carried her away.
As they walked, one of her arms slipped out from under the cloth, and her bangles jangled together as her hand fell.
A red rivulet tracked down from her arm to her wrist and then to her fingertip, where it dripped with each step.
One of her thick gold bangles slipped to the ground.
I ran and picked it up, instantly putting it on and gripping it with all my strength as they carried her to the fort.
The fort. I needed to tell my uncle. Somehow.
My feet carried me to his door and left me standing in the corridor, still squeezing Ektha’s bangle as I begged the Spirits for the strength I would need in this moment.
I looked down at my hands. Someone had washed them—I didn’t know who, and I didn’t know when—but they still felt stained.
Like anyone who saw me would know.
The doors loomed in front of me as I struggled to find the right words.
Did they even exist? But maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything.
Maybe my uncle would see my eyes, and I wouldn’t even have to speak.
Maybe, with one glance, he would know that I’d failed.
He’d know that I’d failed Ektha and him and all of Ullal.
Maybe then I could lock myself away in the seclusion of my room so I could change into the white of mourning and scream at the Spirits as I wondered how I would have the courage to face the dawn.
But I couldn’t run away and hide. My uncle would need me.
He had lost . . .
I had lost . . .
There were no words. Ektha was more than words. She was everything, and now she was gone.
But my uncle needed to know. So, I stood up straight, steeled myself against my tears, and nodded at the guards standing by the doors. I measured my breaths by my steps as I walked into the room.
Uncle Trimulya, Thevan, and Nikith huddled over a table cluttered with maps, letters, and untouched cups of majjige.
Tara was in the corner, watching my uncle like a hawk but apparently satisfied with his health.
Thevan looked dazed, hardly present except in physical form.
I wondered what he’d seen on the beach today.
Thevan was a seasoned warrior and no stranger to battle, so something truly awful must have happened for such heavy shadows to lurk beneath his eyes.
I began to reach toward him but froze as Nikith came to Thevan’s side with a scroll held out in front of him.
Nikith. Had he heard? Did he know about the death of his beloved? Even though the union between Nikith and Ektha had been made with Ullal in mind, love had blossomed in their arranged marriage. My brother-in-law looked up from the scroll and smiled hopefully when he noticed me in the doorway.
My throat burned as a sour taste filled my mouth.
He didn’t know.
“Ah, Abbakka!” my uncle said. “We were just talking . . .”
His voice faded as he saw my face. Nikith’s fingers clenched, crinkling the scroll and warping its inked lines.
“Ektha is dead.” I sounded like a tambura left to sit in the rain, flat and strained.
“I see.” My uncle dropped the paper he was holding. It floated down to the table, dragging its way through the air, as he asked, “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head.
“But you . . .” Nikith blinked rapidly, as if he expected a new reality each time he opened his eyes. “You were supposed to bring her here.”
“I tried.” The words scratched my throat, but I forced them out. “I was too late.”
My uncle exhaled shakily, and then his mouth became a thin line. His next words were firm. “Raja Lakshmappa will be arriving soon with his cohort and soldiers. You need to get ready to meet him.”
I stared at him. I had just announced the loss of my sister, and he still expected me to move on? Just like that? My only true friend—Ullal’s greatest hope—was gone. Because I’d failed her.
“Ektha is dead!” I slammed my hands onto the table in front of us. “My sister is gone, and you want me to play hostess?”
Nikith fell into the chair behind him and dragged his hands down his face.
“Abbakka!” My uncle’s voice cracked through the room, and he stood tall as he became the Tiger of Ullal. “There is work to do!”
His words echoed long after he closed his mouth, but I forced my trembling fingers into fists. I stared down the unfeeling monster standing in front of me with all the strength I had left.
“At least she still has her spirit,” he said, half to himself, before returning his gaze to mine. “You will go and get ready to greet the raja. He deserves a hero’s welcome after his rescue of Ullal today. And he wants to see you.”
My uncle gestured at Nikith, but my brother-in-law’s bloodshot eyes were wild and unfocused.
“Nikith!” my uncle snapped. “The raja. Abbakka.”
“Oh, yes.” Nikith’s shoulders remained hunched even as he cleared his throat and gestured halfheartedly at the scroll in his hand. “The raja is most keen on seeing the rajkumari and spending time with her. He sent word that he couldn’t wait to meet the young woman in the miniatures.”
I snorted. Of course, he hadn’t been happy to see me riding a horse or in a simple lehenga choli. He wanted to see me wearing a lavish sari, adorned with our nation’s jewels. “Well, he’ll be in for quite the shock when he sees me in white instead.”
“You won’t wear white.” My uncle sounded too calm, as if he remarked on the weather, even though every part of him bristled.
“We need this alliance, now more than ever. We will say that Ektha is in the infirmary, and you will dress in all your jewels and finery. Later we can announce her death, but for now he must see you as his future rani.”
My pulse screamed through my ears, and it was all I could hear by the time my uncle finished.
“My sister is dead, and you won’t even let me mourn her?
You expect me to pander to this fool of a raja and pretend everything is fine?
As if every breath isn’t a struggle without her?
As if my hands aren’t forever stained by the color of her blood? ”
“That is exactly what I expect.” My uncle’s black eyes snapped with every word. “Today, you saw how much we need Banghervari’s help. We need to do everything we can to secure this alliance. You are the next rani of Ullal. You owe this to your people. You cannot fail them.”
My lips trembled as a wave of ice washed over me. The next rani of Ullal.
Thevan appeared by my side. He didn’t say anything at first. He just offered a cup of majjige as his tired eyes worriedly searched my face. I took the drink from him and gratefully sipped the buttermilk flavored with ginger and lime, using the time to regain control of my breath.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I hoped he knew I meant for more than the majjige. Thevan tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth would not stay up.
“Surely Raja Lakshmappa would understand if we asked him to delay his visit.” Thevan’s voice was rough, ragged as the torn seaweed that washed ashore after a storm. “His soldiers saw the cost of the battle firsthand. The Banghervari general was next to my father when he fell . . .”
His voice trailed off as he looked at me. Tears sprung to my eyes as the loss of Jagath drummed in my heart.
Thevan took a deep breath. “I’m sure they would understand a delay.”
“Come here, Abbakka.” My uncle ignored Thevan’s speech.
I covered my face and tried to stop my tears, but I couldn’t force my feet to move.
“Come here!” my uncle repeated.
“Give her a moment!” Thevan growled from my side. “She’s just lost her sister and now you want her to throw herself at that preening popinjay—”
“Silence!” The Tiger of Ullal had lost his patience.
My uncle pointed to Thevan and then to Nikith’s side. The soldier followed the unspoken command as he took his place next to my brother-in-law, who still looked gray.
“Lakshmappa is a raja.” My uncle didn’t need to speak his implication: Lakshmappa commanded a country; my uncle commanded Thevan. “You will remember his position. This will be the last time my respect for your father will save you from punishment.”
Thevan’s face went white, and he sealed his mouth shut as he looked away.
“Come here.” My uncle’s attention was back on me. “You are the next rani of Ullal. You cannot cower when your people need courage.”
I glared at him as I pushed down my tears and clenched my jaw so my teeth wouldn’t chatter.
If my uncle saw my shakiness, he ignored it.
“Raja Lakshmappa is coming. You will get dressed, you will meet him, and you will charm him. If there is any logical reason you oppose the match, then you can tell me. But, right now, this union may be the only thing that can save Ullal from the monsters that took your sister from us.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wanted me to beguile a raja when my sister lay dead? Finally, one word escaped my lips. “How?”
“You are a rajkumari of Ullal.” His words were gentler now, like a crackling fire that bit the cold away before it warmed your fingertips.
“You have been training for leadership from the moment of your birth. You know—you have always known—that Ullal needs a leader who can think with her head, not her heart.”
He blinked and turned away, distracted for a moment. “The heart cannot be trusted.”
I stared at him. I’d never considered the life he might have led if my mother hadn’t died. Never thought about the plans he’d had to leave behind so he could sit on the throne until Ektha was grown.
And now it was my turn to make a sacrifice.
With a sigh, he looked back at me. He touched the central gem on his turban and said, “I wish this were not your burden to bear. But it is. For Ullal.”
I nodded.
Nikith’s chin trembled as he bowed to my uncle. “Perhaps while the rest of the fort is preoccupied with the raja’s arrival, I can go to the port and better account for our losses.”
My uncle reached down and blessed him. “Go. Take Thevan. Inform me of your findings tomorrow morning.”
The two men left the room, and I couldn’t help but resent them.
I pointed at the door, and my words tasted like bitter melon as they crossed my lips. “They can leave? They can mourn and take the space they need even though they have work too? They should be greeting Raja Lakshmappa, and you know it!”
My uncle’s reply left me feeling more hollow than silence. “Neither of them is the next rani of Ullal.”