Chapter 16
The winds blew from the forests to the seas today.
I inhaled deeply as we stood on the terrace, embracing the scent of crushed leaves and wet wood, and I pushed aside any thoughts of the beach and the carnage that probably still dyed its sands.
Raja Lakshmappa stood beside me, and while he spared a glance at the view, he returned his attention to me very quickly.
Silence hung between us as I tried to think of what might interest him.
My heavy necklace weighed on my thumping heart, and I forced myself to think about what Ektha might have wanted me to say.
I gestured to the fields that decorated the ascending hills in their hues of saffron, green, and red.
“The farmers of Ullal are its spine. The flavors in those hills sustain our nation, not only in the food we eat but also in the trade it brings.”
The raja took a big bite of the turmeric-colored fish curry and chewed, keeping his eyes on me. “I’d heard much of the treasures of Ullal’s soil, but no words could adequately describe its splendor.”
He looked far too pleased with himself as I blushed.
I refused to be the only person off balance in our conversation. “How is your horse?”
Lakshmappa snorted and choked as he tried to suppress his laugh. Two of the servers standing behind us rushed forward, offering him water and majjige. He gratefully accepted the cup of seasoned buttermilk and gulped it as he regained his composure.
“Are you all right?” I asked with affected innocence.
The raja chuckled. “Quite all right. Thank you for your gracious concern.”
It was my turn to suppress a laugh.
He continued. “My horse was quite excited after our entrance, so I had one of my men take him for a ride along the beach.”
Before I could help myself, I looked toward the ocean. So much was lost because of the attackers that hid within those waves. So many gone forever. The echoes of their deaths would ring throughout the kingdom, now and in our future.
I gripped Ektha’s bangle as my chin trembled, and I couldn’t stop it no matter how tightly I clenched my teeth. The tears I’d suppressed all day fought for their release, but I pushed them down with every breath.
“Rajkumari?” The raja’s voice was as gentle as a quiet embrace stolen between glances. “Are you well?”
“Yes, I . . .” I paused and cleared my scratchy throat. The confession escaped before I could trap it again. “I should be wearing white today.”
The raja followed my gaze to the sea. “You care so much for your soldiers?”
I chose my words carefully, desperately clinging to the threads of secrecy that remained. He couldn’t know about Ektha yet. “It is impossible to measure the loss of the souls that rose to the Spirits today. I would rather mourn alongside the people of Ullal.”
Lakshmappa stared at me as if I were a puzzle he couldn’t quite fit together. “Every time I see you, I meet you anew,” he said. “And each time I am left in awe.”
“Oh really?” I pushed my grief down into the space I had hollowed over years of practice. “You did not even recognize me the first time we met.”
“In fairness, on that day, you did not look much like the portraits I had seen.”
Of course this peacock of a man had only paid attention to my appearance. He’d been too distracted by my messy hair and mud-spackled sari to see me for who I was.
“You were beautiful,” he continued. I tried to hide my surprise.
“Your eyes shone like a light in all that rain. Whenever you stopped speaking, I racked my brain for a question just so I could hear your voice again. And then when I heard you play the tambura and sing . . . I knew I never wanted us to share silence ever again.”
Spirits, the man had a talent for making the world feel off balance.
I became a puppet on a string, pulled toward him with his every word.
His voice’s warmth made me want to lean closer, but I caught myself and sat straight again.
The weight of my heavy necklace helped calm my breath, which threatened to try to keep up with my swirling thoughts.
“So which girl do you prefer?” I asked. “The girl on horseback or the one playing the tambura in her simple lehenga choli? Or the one sitting before you in all the finery of her nation?”
The corner of Lakshmappa’s lip seemed nervous about lifting, but eventually he could not help himself. “I would be forever grateful if I didn’t have to choose.”
And the world was upside down again. My curls tumbled over my face as I looked down at my lap, unable to meet his eyes. Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn’t find any words to force upon my tongue.
The raja cleared his throat as he looked back at the view of Ullal.
“With my parents gone, sometimes it’s hard not to feel alone.
It doesn’t matter how many people request an audience with me or how many dignitaries come to visit—at the end of the day, I am the raja, and I must stand apart.
I know you still have your uncle and sister, but I think you may understand my position better than anyone I’ve ever met. ”
He turned back and searched my expression.
Lakshmappa had probably intended to invoke the memory of my parents, but instead he’d laid bare the loneliness of a life without my sister by my side.
My chest ached at the thought, and the corners of my eyes itched as tears fought to fill them, but I pushed the feeling down and gave the raja a small nod.
His face lit up with hope, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “Vishwajeet would have me stay silent. He thinks love is for fools and my marriage must be for the benefit of Banghervari.”
My tongue finally loosened itself from the floor of my mouth. “He and my uncle will get along splendidly.”
“But I disagree.” Lakshmappa leaned even closer. “Obviously I’ll honor my obligations to Banghervari when I marry, but if I can find someone to stand by my side—who will make every day better just because we’re together—then I would be a fool if I let her slip by.”
How could those sea-colored eyes have so much fire in them?
Even the cool breeze didn’t stop a bead of sweat from forming at my hairline.
I pretended to tuck a curl behind my ear as I brushed it off before it began to track down my face, but I accidentally knocked loose one of the crossandra flowers that decorated my hair.
Lakshmappa swooped down, picked it up, and offered me the orange blossom on the flat of his palm. “What do you think about what Vishwajeet said?”
I bit the inside of my lip, staring at the delicate flower balanced so close to my folded hands.
Would it be so awful to marry him? To secure the future of Ullal by uniting with someone who adored me so much?
Even if he wasn’t terribly sensible, surely I could help protect the future of our nations.
Once I became rani—first by marriage and then by birthright—I could ensure that Ullal and Banghervari not only overcame the Porcugi but perhaps prospered even more than ever. All by marrying a raja who admired me.
I placed one of my hands below Lakshmappa’s and used the other to gently curl his fingers around the blossom. “I do not think Vishwajeet and I are likely to agree about much.”
He placed his other hand above mine, covering it with his warm assurance as his smile embraced me in a way his arms could not. Not yet at least. “In that case, I ask that you call me Aru.”
“Aru,” I repeated softly. It felt like speaking a secret. As if he had shared a piece of himself that he usually kept hidden away. Many people were acquainted with Raja Lakshmappa, but only a few knew Aru.
“It has never sounded so lovely.” His words were a knife of silk, cutting straight into my pounding heart.
Slapping footsteps broke me out of my trance. I yanked my hands out from his, but Aru didn’t lose his grasp on the flower. He kept it in his cupped hand as we awaited the arrival of the saffron-robed healer and the four Ullal guards dashing across the terrace.
The healer skidded to a halt in front of me. He stared as he opened his mouth and then closed it. Twice.
“What is it?” I asked, knowing my uncle would only allow an interruption for something grave.
“Forgive me, Rajkumari.” A wave of realization washed over his face, and he fell to his knees, bowing his head with his hands folded. “I mean, Rani. Rani Abbakka.”
The guards that accompanied him followed his example, their weapons clattering against the stone as they knelt.
For a moment, nobody moved—not even to breathe, it seemed—but then everyone else on the terrace followed their example.
Except for Aru. He stared at me as the people in front of us fell to the ground like crops being cleaved for harvest.
He’d said “rani.” Not “rajkumari.”
Rani.
I shook my head to clear it, sending flowers flying from my hair in every direction. No, this wasn’t possible. There was no way that my uncle could be gone. Next to me, Aru was murmuring something unintelligible, but I didn’t even pretend to listen.
“Please, Rani,” one of the soldiers said as he stepped in front of me. “We need you to come with us to the infirmary. It would seem . . .”
His words faded as I looked beyond his face, up to the windows of the infirmary. The truth was there. Whatever madness this was, I could clear it up by going there.
I ducked around the guard and sprinted to the infirmary as fast as my legs would take me, leaving a trail of petals in my wake.