Chapter 27
I was married in an ocean of petals and gold.
People applauded and draped us in gifted finery as they literally paid homage to our union.
The ceremony was held in the gardens at the entrance of the fort, far away from the beaches where Thevan and many of his soldiers stood guard, facing away from our wedding as they protected us against the threat from the seas. I refused to look in his direction.
Instead, I focused all my attention on my soon-to-be husband.
Aru was practically luminous in his golden kurta, and his smile never faltered.
If anything, he only glowed more when he looked at me, and he hardly took his eyes away.
He seemed to be more infatuated than ever, even with my ridiculous terms. When he noticed me peeking at him from beneath my lowered lashes, he winked, making me blush. That just made him smile even wider.
His unabashed adoration made me catch my breath. I had agreed to this union for the sake of Ullal, but Aru? It seemed like Aru had said yes because he was marrying me.
As Aru and I walked around the fire, I tried to ignore the memory of the heat of Ektha’s pyre.
And Uncle Trimulya’s. And Samanth’s. Warmth crept up my cheeks as I kept my eyes on the ground and followed the ring around the flames, careful to stay close enough to keep it quick but far enough to avoid burning our ornate wedding garments.
Afterward, when I took a seat on Aru’s left instead of his right, I felt the balance shift as I took my place on the side closer to his heart.
When we finally exchanged our flower garlands, the world stopped.
Silence blanketed all of us, and everyone held their collective breath, not even daring to break the quiet with an exhale.
I placed the red and white flowers around Aru’s neck, and a flash of green light raced across the skies from the nearby mountains.
Matanta’s green.
The crowd gasped, but Aru just stared at me dreamily. “You are, indeed, Spirits blessed.”
He had already seen me with the adaiman, but there was no way he could have known about Matanta. And I certainly wasn’t about to tell him now.
“They were probably drawn in by all the sweets you sent over,” I murmured back.
I’d avoided meeting his gaze all day, maintaining the modesty befitting a bride, but I risked a glance at him now. Spirits, his smile was perfect. So honest and joyful and completely uninhibited. I bowed my head down again and tried to hide my blushing cheeks.
He took two of his fingers and placed them under my chin, raising my face until my eyes met his.
The crowd had resumed its cheering, but at that moment it was just the two of us.
Him and me, together on the mandap with its fire burning ever higher and filling us with its heat.
The warmth swirled around me, and I couldn’t breathe as I stared into the ocean that was his eyes.
I slipped deeper and deeper, but I had no urge to come up for air.
I was lost. And I had no desire to be found.
“You need never hide your face from me.” His words danced into my ears and down my back, making me tingle. “From now on, the scale of my day’s success will be measured by the number of times I can make you smile.”
Aru meant every word. Our faces were less than a finger’s length apart, and there was no room for him to hide anything in his expression.
He just stared at me earnestly, waiting for me to believe him, to accept him.
I desperately tried to slow the beating of my drumming heart and reminded myself that I was not marrying this man for love.
I was marrying him for the good of Ullal, and I needed to stay focused on that.
But my self-rebuking thoughts quieted to a muffled whisper.
His voice was the only sound I wanted to hear—it was my guiding star in these stormy seas.
The roar of the people cheering for our union brought me back to the surface. I inhaled deeply as my lashes fluttered with heavy blinks. My cheeks were sore from smiling so widely. Spirits, this man had far too tight a hold on me.
“You cannot change me so quickly,” I said. “I will not be so easily won.”
“You think this was easy?” He sounded more amused than annoyed. “Apparently I need to find a way to express myself better.”
Aru’s smile showed only a flash of mischief before I found myself tilting back as my feet flew up into the air in front of me.
He had—quite literally—swept me off my feet, and he carried me off the mandap.
My mehndi-decorated toes peeked out from beneath my red hem, and I kicked gently in protest. But I couldn’t even pretend to mind for long.
I dissolved into laughter as he carried me back to the fort, where our feast was waiting.
He lifted me with ease, even though I was weighed down by my red sari’s heavy embroidery, several gold necklaces, endless rows of bangles, and my bridal nath, with its chain that extended all the way to my hairpiece.
Not to mention all the rubies that made me sparkle wherever the gold didn’t shine.
I was draped in the wealth of Ullal, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He lifted me up as if I weighed nothing.
As if I didn’t carry my nation’s hopes. As if I weren’t its shield and sword and scales of justice.
As if the memories of my mother, uncle, and sister weren’t constantly reminding me that I couldn’t let myself fail.
He carried me—all of me—with ease. Either Aru didn’t realize the weight of everything he bore so readily, or he didn’t care.
It made no difference. I nuzzled into him and embraced his warmth, listening to his heart beating steadily with his steps. And, in that moment, I realized I did not mind being carried.