Chapter 29
Life settled into a new pattern in Banghervari.
For the first time ever, I found myself sleeping well past dawn, making mornings shorter in Banghervari than they had been in Ullal—no surprise since the nights were longer.
I even stayed nestled in bed for a few moments after I opened my eyes, savoring the brushes and touches of the sheets, which echoed Aru’s caresses and kisses on every part of me.
After I finally arose and got ready, I would usually meet with Aru so we could tour Banghervari together.
Vishwajeet had insisted—and Aru agreed—that it was important for our people to see me and know me.
So every day, we’d ride on palanquins to a new part of his kingdom, where we’d wave as people threw flowers, creating a carpet our feet would never touch.
I’d tried to protest that this was no way for them to get to know me, but Aru had laughed and seemed too pleased by the adoration of his people to mind much.
This morning, though, I awoke early. My maids were caught by surprise, and they hurried about, tittering as they passed each other while they tried to arrange for breakfast and find me a suitable sari to wear. They didn’t know that I’d asked Chaaya to get me up at daybreak.
I had just emerged from my bedchamber into my private sitting room when Parushi walked in, holding a sheaf of messages. She saw the number of maids—those dressing me, bringing my food, and making my bed—and her hand tightened around the papers.
“Rani.” She bowed deeply. We’d decided that we would follow the strictest protocols whenever anyone from Banghervari was nearby.
People were watching us. Somehow both the raja and Vishwajeet knew of the bangle I wore to honor my mother and sister, even though I’d never spoken of it to them.
We still hadn’t identified the spies. Or whom they reported to.
It didn’t stop me from suspecting Vishwajeet.
I signaled for Parushi to rise. “I trust that you will be accompanying me when I go out with the raja today.”
“Yes.” Parushi was standing as if a sword were at her back. “But I wonder if you might be interested in taking a ride on Maraan first. The raja has not yet risen, so there will be plenty of time, and Maraan looked restless in the stables this morning.”
I knew Parushi made sure to ride Maraan regularly precisely to avoid this situation.
She’d even taken Chaaya on a ride yesterday, but I said none of this.
“I trust that you will find someone else to take care of that. For now, I need you to accompany me.” The maids leaned forward.
“I have a surprise for my raja, but I don’t want to impose on the guards.
We’ll have to hurry, though. He has a tour planned for later, and I don’t want to be late. ”
“As you wish.” Parushi bowed deferentially. The bow itself was perfectly fine, but knowing how much all this fuss and bother grated on her made it look oddly amusing.
Parushi and I ignored the awkward silence and left, and I waved off the guard that tried to accompany us.
“So where are we going?” she whispered as soon as we were in an empty hall.
“I’ve found out where the record room is,” I whispered back.
“Kamaraya let it slip yesterday. We need to sift through their records to see if they have anything about the Porcugi. Aru’s parents might have seized the records of the nations they defeated, so there’s a chance we’ll have more luck here than we did in Ullal. ”
Parushi nodded but said nothing as we passed by a cluster of guards. I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing so much green everywhere. And white. I missed the blue of Ullal’s uniforms and the red of our walls.
We turned a corner, and she leaned back to me. “The sooner we learn more, the better. I just received a letter from Thevan. He’s asking if you’ve approved paying a tithe to the Porcugi.”
I stopped and stared at Parushi. “Never!”
“Well, apparently there’s a letter with the Banghervari seal instructing them to pay a tithe on every shipment.” She held out the note from Thevan.
“That letter was signed by Vishwajeet, not Aru.” I rubbed my temple as we continued to walk.
“Touring Banghervari has taken so much time that Aru told me he’d entrusted the council with managing things.
I should have realized he’d basically given Vishwajeet free rein.
I wonder if Aru was even consulted—it’s possible he has no idea that any of this is happening. ”
“Maybe.” Parushi sounded doubtful at best. “But maybe not. You need to find out. And then what will you do?”
“Put an end to it.” I squeezed Ektha’s bangle tight. She would have known what to do and how to maneuver in this palace where even people’s words were gilded. “I don’t know how, but I’ll die before Ullal pays a tithe to the monsters that murdered my sister.”
“Thevan will be relieved to hear it.” Parushi looked far less troubled too. “He seemed anxious to know you hadn’t changed so much in your short time here.”
Speaking of Thevan brought me back to the day we’d stood together on the beach. I could see the longing in his eyes as he stared into mine, hear the hope he’d dared give voice to, and feel the sting of his anger when we’d parted.
“Thevan is not my concern.” I was unnecessarily harsh, but there was no taking the words back. I continued with a far more even tone. “Aru is. And I doubt that he’ll be relieved to hear what I have to say. I’ll just need to find a way to make him accept it.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Parushi said.
“I have to. It’s the only reason I’m here.”
We’d finally made it to the records room, and I raised an imperious eyebrow at the guard by the door, hoping he wouldn’t have the audacity to question a rani. Thankfully, he did not. After only a moment’s hesitation, he opened the doors and announced me.
The record keeper’s desk wasn’t too far from the door, and she jumped up at the sound of my name.
She was short and slender, and her burnt orange sari was unembellished but made of fine muslin.
It took her a moment to believe that I was really standing in front of her.
She bowed deeply. “Forgive me, Rani. I did not expect the honor of your presence today.”
“I’m grateful you are here.” I wasn’t about to tell her I hadn’t wanted her to have any warning. “I am looking for records about the Porcugi.”
“The Porcugi?” She blinked at me. “The raja and Vishwajeet can certainly tell you . . .”
She fell silent as I shook my head.
“No, I’m looking for records from the last time they”—I paused to find the right word—“visited our shores.”
“Oh, of course.” She nodded to herself, and I was thankful I’d kept my secret.
I was certain Vishwajeet would have found a way to prevent me from seeing the records if he knew what I was after, just as he had prevented me from attending any more council meetings by scheduling them while Aru and I were on our tours.
Aru hadn’t shared my frustration about that—he’d rejoiced at the chance to get a summary from Vishwajeet and avoid listening to his advisers’ “endless droning,” as he put it.
“As you can see, our records have become a large collection over time.” The record keeper swelled with pride as she led us through the rows upon rows of stacked, bound palm leaves.
She stopped and gestured at a cluster. “We’ve done our best to organize all the records—ours and those of lands that have opted to join Banghervari—by time.
You should be able to find something here. ”
I thanked her profusely without mentioning that the lands that had “opted” to join Banghervari had often done so after long and bloody wars. Ullal had largely been spared from Banghervari’s ambition thanks to the reputation of our military force, but we had always been made aware of it.
After she left, Parushi and I wasted no time. We started working from opposite ends of the area she’d pointed to, each of us flipping through records as fast as we could.
“This makes no sense,” Parushi said as she read. “This says the Porcugi were tired and sluggish in their movements, which made them easy targets.”
“Same here.” I pointed to the palm leaf I was reading through.
“It says their fighting was disorganized and they were easily scattered. Their emissary, Kamran—he’d said that the first group of Porcugi were explorers.
They wouldn’t have known battle strategy, but that doesn’t explain why they would have been exhausted and slow. ”
“Maybe we found a way to sneak the Porcugi thati kallu.” Parushi pretended to sip from an imaginary glass and get wobbly.
I rolled my eyes and went back to reading, but most of the records were essentially the same: They marked the arrival of the Porcugi, noted their size and fearsome appearance, but concluded by saying that an alliance of neighboring nations was able to overcome them.
“I’m trying to find something that quantifies the losses, but I don’t see anything,” Parushi mumbled.
“Me neither, but what I don’t understand more is why they don’t seem as intimidated by the Porcugi. When you and I were face to face with that one”—I shuddered—“it was terrifying.”
“And it was anything but sluggish,” Parushi agreed.
I tried to think back to what else Kamran had said when he came to Ullal. He’d mentioned they now had a raja and general that understood their strength and wanted to use it to their advantage. “What if this isn’t the first place the Porcugi attacked recently?”
“What do you mean?”
“Kamran mentioned their ambitious raja. What if he set his sights somewhere else before coming here? And that spot is closer than their home? If they’ve established some sort of base between their home and ours, then the journey here won’t be so arduous, and they wouldn’t be as exhausted when they arrive.
Maybe that’s why they can fight better than before. ”
Parushi put down her palm leaves and stared at me. “For your sake, I hope that’s not true.”
“What do you mean?”