Chapter 25
The day of my wedding, I arose early and told my attendants that I didn’t need to start getting ready yet since the ceremony would happen around sunset.
They balked at the idea but acquiesced when Chaaya agreed with me.
I slipped into a simple lavender langa davani, knowing this was the last time I would be able to wear the half sari instead of the full sari expected of married women. Then, I made my way down to the beach.
I stayed close to the fort’s outer wall and away from the shoreline to avoid attracting attention.
Thankfully, people were too busy to notice me as they prepared for the five ships gliding into port, slipping through the pink-and-orange waters kissed by the rising sun.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Those ships had left, laden with goods, soon after my engagement to Aru.
Now, all of them had returned safely after trading Ullal’s latest harvests—quite successfully, if their messages were to be believed.
The tide of our battle against the Porcugi was surely turning.
When the Porcugi first began their attacks, a fleet of ships like that would return with at least a ship or two gone, but now we were seeing far more success.
We’d produced countless longbows, and the soldiers we sent with our trade ships fired without hesitation at the first sign of the enemy.
At first, we’d been discouraged because adjusting the aim of the longbow was difficult given the speed of the Porcugi—it worked perfectly well against lumbering elephants, but the Porcugi were far nimbler.
A few archers did manage to strike, and even kill, some of the attacking monsters, but I hadn’t expected such small losses to have much impact.
To my surprise, the attacks soon slowed almost to a halt.
Our infirmary finally began to empty, and Tara spent fewer nights feverishly grinding herbs and concoctions for her patients.
These incoming ships were messengers of hope. Not only did they bring back the wealth from their trades, but they were also evidence that our economy could prosper again. Evidence that my people sorely needed.
“A welcome sight.” Thevan’s voice made me jump.
“I didn’t realize you were there.” I stepped to the side in a silent welcome for him to stand next to me.
It was the first time we’d had a moment together since my engagement was finalized.
Yes, we saw each other during my council meetings, but they were much busier with the return of Nikith and Parushi.
Thevan had offered me several opportunities to come see the soldiers’ progress with the longbow, but I hadn’t had time—there was much to do between overseeing my wedding arrangements and preparing to rule my nation from afar.
Or at least that’s what I told myself.
Thevan stepped to my side and stood in the light of the sunrise.
It caught the lines and edges in his face that had emerged since the passing of his brother and father.
Thevan had never been one to show his feelings, and now even more of his secrets were hidden in the shadows scattered across his face.
I wondered if the same was true of mine.
I made myself stop staring at him and gestured to the incoming ships. “I dared not hope too much until they returned home safely.”
“The Porcugi are losing their hold on us.” He stood a little taller as he spoke. “We’ve kept them at bay on land and at sea, and they don’t have their little spy feeding them information anymore.”
Parushi and Thevan had found Ulagan the day after our conversation with Chetan.
Eventually he’d admitted his guilt, although he insisted he’d been told that the tincture would just weaken the raja.
It didn’t matter. Parushi and Thevan had made sure he was punished, and they’d buried his body without any rites.
The idea of one death causing another sometimes made me wonder how many deaths would result from my actions, but I pushed such thoughts out of my head as I replied to Thevan.
“You should be proud,” I said. “As I am. Of you and your soldiers. You have protected Ullal and its future.”
“I swear, everything I do, I do for Ullal. For you, my rani.” Thevan’s voice was softer.
I pretended I didn’t hear the emphasis on his second to last word. We stood in silence for a few moments, watching the ships come into the port and listening to the joyful yells that greeted them.
Thevan took a deep breath and turned to me. His face was fully in the light, and he hardly blinked at all. “Is this what you want? To marry him?”
The question sliced through me, cutting my breath short.
It took me a moment to respond. “This marriage is what I want for Ullal. My people give me so much and ask only that I protect them. This is how I can do that.”
“You don’t need him to protect Ullal.” Thevan gestured to the port.
“Our army has pushed back the Porcugi—without any of his help. We are on the brink of victory. It’s why I showed you the longbow and why I kept asking you to come see the success of our training.
I needed you to know—I need you to know—that everything you need to protect Ullal is already here. ”
My heart pounded, beating in my chest like a dollu, and I was convinced everyone could hear its thunderous sound. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting—
Thevan’s voice was scratchy and raw as he stared through my eyes and into my heart. “You can trust me to keep Ullal safe.”
“You know I trust you.” I desperately searched for the right words. “But even you admitted the other day that you’re not sure why the attacks have dropped so suddenly. Yes, the longbows have helped us win some battles but not decisively enough to merit their retreat. What if they come back again?”
“We’d figure it out. We always have. When has there been anything we can’t do?”
“Nikith says—”
“Nikith has spent his entire life on a cushion and doesn’t know what it means to fight,” Thevan growled. “You are different. We are different.”
I looked away. Thevan was right: Like any rajkumar, Nikith had been trained in combat, but even he admitted he’d never had a taste—or inclination—for it. He preferred his books and his treaties above all else.
Thevan saw my hesitation and seized on it. “You can do whatever you want. Spirits, you could even marry for love.”
My breath caught, and I stared at him.
Thevan lowered his voice and tentatively reached for my hand. His face became an open book, and his emotions were written clearly across it. “If you wanted to.”
My heart fell to my feet as my mouth went dry.
It was as if the beaches had emptied their sands onto my tongue.
I licked my lips, and he tightened his grasp on my fingers.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it might be like to finally have someone at my side again, someone who knew me and understood me as few people could.
What it might be like to stand against the Porcugi with Thevan as my husband and general, leading our troops as we fought to bring Ullal to unprecedented greatness.
We would protect our home and drive the Porcugi back to the seas.
But as I looked out over the waves, I saw Aru’s sea-colored eyes staring back at me.
I tried to blink them away, but I couldn’t help thinking of his earnestness every time he’d seen me.
Nikith had assured me that Aru promised he’d help stop the Porcugi’s attacks on Ullal.
If Aru had made that promise with the same sincerity, with the same intensity, that I’d seen in his last visit, then he would surely bring even more resources and strength to Ullal than Thevan could ever hope to.
Thevan was a soldier. His duty would always be to me.
I was a rani. My duty would always be to Ullal.
When I found my voice, I spoke quietly and let the breeze carry my words to his ears. “I cannot love anyone more than I love Ullal.”
Just like that, Thevan’s face closed off again, and he stepped away from me.
“You must have known—” I began, but Thevan shook his head, and I fell silent.
He looked out over the ocean, and the wind from the sea brushed his hair off his face so I could see the sheen that covered his eyes. He swallowed and turned back to me as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. When he opened his hand, I inhaled sharply.
It was the bracelet Samanth had given me.
I traced the purple, red, and gold threads reverently as I took it from Thevan’s hand, brushing my fingers on the burnt ends. The threads had unraveled, and sand was woven into them, but it was beautiful. “I thought it was gone forever. It came off during his last rites.”
Thevan stared at me, and I could feel the space growing between us as his eyes hardened. “I stayed on the beach until sunrise the next day. When I decided to leave, I saw it in the sand, and . . . anyway, he would have wanted you to have it. Consider it my wedding gift.”
“Thank you.” My voice was a whisper, but it was all I could do to speak the words. “I will treasure it.”
“It’s a small token, especially compared to the gifts you’ll get later today,” Thevan said bitterly. “And that’s what you need from your husband, right? A marriage that will bring you the money that you’re so convinced will save Ullal.”
His words cut through the armor I’d laid on every day since Ektha’s death. Thevan knew me better. Or at least he should. He knew I had to do this for Ullal and that the thought of leaving was tearing me apart. All this was just making it harder, and he had no right to do it.
“You know I do this for Ullal.” I shoved any regrets about what might have been far away from my heart. “Even if it weren’t true, I am the rani. The decision is mine to make, not yours to question.”
“Then we best head back to the fort, Rani.” He growled the last word. “Your attendants are looking for you.”
He bowed formally—excessively—and strode back to the fort without a second glance. I caught up, and we walked in silence, leaving our conversation at the beach. Only the sands had borne witness to it, and they would soon be washed away with the tides.
As we crossed the grounds, a somewhat harried guard ran toward us. He bowed deeply when he reached us, speaking between his panting breaths. “Rani, forgive me. You’re needed in the gardens.”
“The gardens?” I repeated, not sure I’d heard right.
The guard straightened. “Yes. A man named Vishwajeet arrived with six attendants, and he insisted that I find you straightaway. He said he would wait for you in the first garden by the gate.”
“Your future husband takes great liberties.” Thevan’s eyes glinted. “Sending his adviser at this hour on your wedding day.”
“I’m sure Raja Lakshmappa has a good reason,” I snapped back.
Thevan opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it.
He signaled to the guard to accompany me, and when I moved toward the gardens, Thevan didn’t follow.
Instead, he turned and made his way to the training yards with only a grunt to see me off.
I pretended I didn’t notice. Or care that this was the last time I would see him before I left for Banghervari.
I was a rani, and I needed to serve my nation. He should have understood that.
The guard and I went to a small walled garden near the entrance.
Vishwajeet stood on the steps to a central dais, surrounded by perfectly symmetrical flowerbeds on either side.
He was facing away from me, but he appeared completely relaxed.
I couldn’t say as much for the six people who lined the path to him in pairs, each carrying a mounded platter covered in jade green silk.
They stood uncomplaining, but their tense faces revealed their struggle to keep the trays straight.
My guard strode into the garden ahead of me, and the slapping of his steps on the stone path caught Vishwajeet’s attention.
Aru’s man hurriedly turned around, but he paid no attention to the guard.
Instead, he leaned to the side to try to catch a glimpse of me, like a crane leaning around a clump of cattails.
“Rani Abbakka.” Vishwajeet bowed deeply, but he sneered at my simple langa davani.
I nodded in acknowledgment as I passed him on the stairs and stepped onto the dais.
Vishwajeet managed to reset his expression. “My raja bids you well and thanks you for the generous accommodations you arranged for us. Please forgive me for arriving so early in the day, but my raja was eager to send these gifts.”
Vishwajeet gestured behind him, and—in impressive unison—the tray bearers removed the green cloths to reveal large piles of sweets.
“How very generous.” I couldn’t hide my confusion. “But I think the raja may have overestimated my sweet tooth.”
“I had no idea the rani had such wit.” Vishwajeet appeared entirely unamused. “These are for your people, of course. My raja feels that their joy is bound to please the Spirits, and he is eager to ensure that your marriage begins auspiciously.”
“How thoughtful of him.” Strange that Aru would insist I be present to receive a gift for others, but perhaps he just wanted me to see his magnanimity.
Or his wealth. “Please convey my thanks. I will make sure that the sweets are distributed. I, too, am eager to see our union begin with the Spirits’ blessings. ”
Vishwajeet bowed deeply, and I stepped down from the dais and onto the path that pointed back to the fort, grateful for the chance to leave. The air in the gardens had never felt so stifling.
“One more thing, please, Rani,” Vishwajeet drawled from the steps behind me.
I turned back, and he held out an intricately carved box. Now he stood above me, so the box was at the level of my nose.
“The raja also sends this as a gift to his future rani on your wedding day.” The wooden box’s carvings of vines and roses were so detailed that the box alone would have been gift enough, but Vishwajeet lifted the lid to reveal a tuft of red fabric inside.
There, on a bed of silk, lay a gift worth more than all the goods the five ships coming into port had just traded: A gajra made of pearls.