Chapter 22 #2
Parushi piped up. “Perhaps those secrets should remain undisturbed. Why share them if there’s no benefit? Some secrets are better left in silence.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tara snapped. “If I’m right in my suspicions, you’re the only family she has left.”
“What?” I turned to Parushi and glared at her, demanding an explanation.
Parushi scowled from Tara to me and crossed her arms. Even though she maintained her defiant silence, I recognized something in her expression.
It was the same look she’d had when she screamed down the Porcugi after she’d run out of arrows.
She was cornered, with nowhere to go, but she wouldn’t surrender.
Had she forgotten I was her rani? For all the jokes she’d made about it at my expense, she’d conveniently ignored the power that went along with my title.
“I will command you to speak if I must.”
Parushi threw her hands up and lowered them with a flourish as she bent into an exaggerated bow. “As you wish, Rani Abbakka.”
Poison laced her voice.
“Stop acting like a spoiled child and explain, or I will,” Tara snapped.
Chaaya looked as if she would have been more comfortable if the vines on the walls were eating her alive. Nikith and Thevan watched the drama unfold, slack jawed. They may have been arguing only moments ago, but now they were united in their confusion.
“Fine.” Parushi’s words were clear and crisp, like the morning dew that cut through the sleepiness of last night’s sleep. “Your uncle was my father.”
She raised her hand to cut off Thevan’s questions and continued, “I couldn’t be acknowledged because he and my mother never married, obviously.
I’m told that he loved her and provided for her.
Quite well, apparently. Well enough to provide for both my family and Shalini’s.
She and her mother lived with us until Amma became sick.
Very sick. Shalini’s mother wanted me to stay so we’d still get the money.
Amma wanted better for me, so one day, while Shalini and her mother were at the market, Amma put me on a horse and sent me here with a letter that begged the raja to let me stay.
He did. But he made me promise to keep my identity a secret and say that I was sent to be a part of the army.
It was a promise I was happy to keep. I have no interest in being royalty. ”
I lowered myself to the ground, sitting with a thud.
Everyone else followed my lead, but I ignored them.
I needed to think. Children were sent to the palace for training all the time.
It happened for any number of reasons—parents couldn’t afford another mouth to feed, or they thought it would give their child a chance for a better life, or they hoped to bring honor to their family.
I’d never thought to ask why Parushi had come.
Why my cousin had come.
“You’re next in line for the throne,” I said. “You’re the other option.”
Parushi’s face turned red. “Absolutely not. I want none of your gilded chains.”
“We need to keep this a secret!” Nikith’s eyes were wide. The surprise had chased some of the shadows from his face.
Thevan nodded. Worry cut deep lines in his forehead, and he shifted his shoulders, putting himself between me and Parushi. “Nobody can know. It will only cause unrest.”
“Be serious,” I said. “We can’t keep this a secret. Shalini must have told someone, so it’s only a matter of time before the rumor spreads. If we tell people now, then we can control the way that they hear it. We can frame it in such a way that it reassures them.”
“It doesn’t matter how we say it.” Nikith chose his words with care.
“If anyone disagrees with you or your policies, they’ll see Parushi as .
. . an option. Someone they can have on the throne instead of you.
It’s one thing to unseat a rani and throw the nation into a violent civil war without a clear successor; it’s quite another to assassinate a ruler to make room for the next in line. ”
My mouth went dry. That’s why Shalini had tried to kill me; she thought Parushi would inherit the throne. She must have believed she’d have better luck convincing Parushi to pay the tithes. How many others would feel the same way?
“Anyone that thinks such a thing is a fool.” Parushi pointed to me. “She’s lived and breathed this sacrifice-for-Ullal nonsense since she was born. I’ve watched her live a life of luxury in return for having no say in her choices. I have no interest in a life like that.”
“But what if something did happen to me?” I pressed. “Would you let Ullal fall into a war of succession that could destroy our nation? Or would you take your position as rani?”
Parushi took a step back, abashed. Her lips trembled as she clenched her jaw. “That’s not fair” was all she could manage to whisper.
“Nobody here thinks you want to become rani.” Tara put a hand on Parushi’s shoulder. “But you have known this truth your whole life. Give the rani some space. I think, perhaps, you could use it too.”
Parushi looked from Tara to me and opened her mouth but couldn’t find the right words. Her shoulders slumped, and she allowed Tara to usher her out of the stepwell.
Nobody said anything as they left. I stood near the stepwell’s lapping water, struggling to assemble any semblance of a coherent thought.
Parushi had been my training partner my whole life.
I’d trusted her more than almost anyone, but she’d kept this secret from me all along.
Even Thevan looked completely disoriented, and he stared at the stepwell’s door long after it closed.
Finally, Nikith broke the silence. “You should send her away. Somewhere she can’t cause more trouble.”
“She is a soldier and therefore under my command,” Thevan said. “The rani may have favored you with a position as her adviser, but you have no authority over the army. This is not your concern.”
Nikith squared up against the much larger man. “The rani’s safety is always my concern.”
“No less mine,” Thevan growled as he leaned over Nikith. “For far longer than you’ve even known her.”
“Quiet, both of you,” I commanded. “I need to think.”
This was Parushi’s home, and she’d never shown any interest in ruling.
If anything, she’d avoided that life as much as possible.
But there was no denying that others might use her birthright for their own purposes, and we needed to be sure she wasn’t a part of it.
“Parushi stays with us. For now. But make sure she’s always watched. ”
Thevan nodded. It wasn’t a great solution, but it was all I had. An uncomfortable silence hung between us.
Nikith cleared his throat. “It would seem that it’s time for us to revisit my earlier proposal.”
His tone was deliberately even and quiet.
He tugged a paper out from the sheaf he was carrying, and I recognized the Banghervari seal.
“Marriage. And on that front, I have good news. Raja Lakshmappa is still eager for a union. It would seem he was quite taken with you during his last visit. He still calls you ‘the Spirits-blessed Rani’ whenever he writes.”
Aru.
Aru was still waiting. I hadn’t even thought of him since the day he left a lifetime ago.
I’d been far too busy to reminisce about the man with sea-colored eyes and a voice that was too sweet for this world.
In truth, though, it had been only a couple of months since I’d seen him here, in this very stepwell, and the adaiman had swirled between us.
The adaiman.
An adaiman had left me a turmeric root after Aru had left.
I’d met Aru in a turmeric field.
He’d even gifted me a heaping platter of turmeric when he’d come to the fort.
The adaiman were leading me to Aru. How had I missed it? The day after I’d received the feather and turmeric root, I’d shoved them into a locked trunk and hadn’t given them a second thought as I made myself busy.
“If I married Raja Lakshmappa, it would solve some problems but create so many more.” I spoke my thoughts as I sorted through them.
“We’d have money, yes, and an heir would .
. . come, surely. But how would we rule the two nations?
I would not let him govern Ullal, and he must feel the same way about me having a say in Banghervari. ”
Nikith stepped closer to me. “There will be problems no matter what, but if you decide to marry the raja, we can settle some of the issues during the negotiations for your marriage. This is the advantage of a marriage amongst royal families: Each has something the other one wants. Ordinarily, one cannot command a raja.” His glance at Thevan made his implications about being able to command a soldier clear, and my general glowered in the shadows of the stepwell.
“But he might agree to use his rather considerable power to our advantage if a marriage hangs in the balance.”
Nikith tapped his rolled papers against his chest. “That’s where I come in. I will negotiate your terms, and you can marry the way that you want to. You could gain access to resources that would have otherwise been beyond your reach—without giving up Ullal.”
Thevan began to reply, but I held out my hand to silence him as I paced up and down the edge of the water.
White lotuses drifted with the gentle current.
Those that got caught among each other or tangled with other debris inevitably flipped and dipped into the water as they struggled, but those that flowed with the current and followed the natural course stayed afloat.
Ullal needed money. And an established line of succession.
And Aru adored me. The Spirits themselves had even blessed this union.
What was holding me back? Thevan? He was a soldier, and—much as I hated to admit it—Nikith was right: Thevan would follow my commands whether we were married or not.
Marrying him would not bring Ullal any tangible advantages.
My duty weighed heavy on my heart, stifling it.
“You will go to Banghervari,” I said to Nikith.
I refused to meet Thevan’s gaze and kept my eyes on my brother-in-law instead.
Nikith’s face lit up with a smile as he folded his hands in thanks to the Spirits. “Thank you, sister. I promise I will make sure that the negotiation favors you; Ektha would have demanded no less from me, and I will make her proud.”
His mention of my sister pulled at my heart, but I wouldn’t make this easy for him.
“Don’t be so quick with your gratitude. I will marry for the good of Ullal or not at all.
If Lakshmappa wants us to marry, he must agree to help us eliminate the threat of the Porcugi and also agree that the wedding will be in Ullal.
We can use the wealth it will bring to help pay off some of the more immediate costs of the war. ”
Nikith hardly looked troubled. “I’m sure he’ll agree. They already fought in one battle by our side, and while having the wedding in Ullal will be a loss for Banghervari, I imagine it is a price the raja is willing to pay.”
I smiled wryly. “I’m glad you think that will be easy, because my other two conditions will be harder won. But they are nonnegotiable.”
Nikith’s face fell.
“First, I will remain the rani and ruler of Ullal, and second, our first daughter will be Ullal’s next rani.”
For a moment, my words echoed through the stepwell. Then Thevan erupted into laughter. “These negotiations are doomed.”
“But . . . but in Banghervari, the men inherit the throne,” Nikith sputtered. “The raja will expect to join our nations—for you to rule together and then have your first son take the throne.”
I shook my head and stood tall. I was not discussing the issue with my council anymore; I had made my decision as rani.
“There is no such thing as ‘ruling together,’ because in the end, one of us must make the choice when we disagree. And it will be me. I will rule Ullal, followed by our eldest daughter. Otherwise, I will not marry him.”
“You’re making this impossible.” Shadows returned to Nikith’s face. “I thought you understood why Ullal needs this. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be.”
“I’m making it exactly as difficult as it must be,” I replied, unmoved. “If anyone can do it, brother, it is you. I am trusting you with this, just as my people have trusted me with caring for Ullal. These are my terms. I will not accept anything less.”
With that, I walked past Thevan and Nikith and went straight up the stairs, leaving no room for questions or arguments. Chaaya followed behind me, and I did everything I could to keep my face in a mask of calm as my thoughts stormed in my mind.
What if Aru didn’t accept? I’d have to find a way to continue to fund our war without his money.
I’d also need to figure out how to protect our ships so our economy wouldn’t collapse, and we’d need to hide the truth about Parushi.
Or embrace it. No, probably hide it. But the best way to amplify a rumor was to try to kill it. Perhaps we ought to let it fade out?
I had so many loose ends in my hands and no way to tie them if Aru didn’t agree to my terms. How would I make it all work?
As uncomfortable as these questions were, somehow they were far easier to answer than the thought that kept demanding my attention, no matter how hard I pushed it away.
What if he said yes?