Chapter 31
The moment we arrived back at the palace, Vishwajeet greeted us with a deep bow. “Welcome back, Raja Lakshmappa and Rani Abbakka. I have refreshments ready for you in the courtyard.”
“I am famished,” Aru declared, and he practically skipped as he made his way there, despite the many kodubale he’d eaten on our way back.
I followed behind with less enthusiasm. The taste of coconut and ajwain still sat on my tongue after our snacks, but Aru had made up his mind, and Vishwajeet was positively strutting as we made our way to the courtyard.
The palace in Banghervari was set atop a hill, and its grounds sloped down in the back.
It gave the rear courtyard an impressive view of the kingdom: the rolling hills and valleys patched with fields and villages, and the shadowed mountains reaching for the sky behind them.
It was quite a contrast from the ocean views at home.
The wind came and went, and there was no constant crashing of the waves on the sandy shore.
Even the air was different; it smelled of earth instead of salt.
I wanted to love it.
Today, Vishwajeet had created a picturesque setting for us.
A circular table adorned with pink and red flowers sat in the center of the courtyard.
Its two chairs were draped in orange garlands, and piping-hot stuffed dosas were already served in front of them.
The aroma of fenugreek, cumin, and mustard promptly made me forget the snacks we’d eaten on our way back.
Annoying or not, Vishwajeet had timed the preparation of the dosas incredibly well. I sat in my chair and marveled at the steam swirling upward from the thin pancakes that were rolled around a mystery filling. “Thank you. This looks amazing.”
Vishwajeet was focused entirely on Aru, and his shoulders jumped as I spoke. He turned to me and tried to wipe the surprise off his face. “I wanted to do something special. Dosas are Raja Lakshmappa’s favorite.”
Aru, who was about to take a seat, stopped midway and straightened again. “Do you like dosas, my rani? We can have them take these away and make something else if you prefer.”
Never before had Vishwajeet looked more like a lemur than he did as he stared at Aru.
“I prefer uttapams,” I said.
In an instant, Vishwajeet’s surprise was gone, and flecks of fury spotted his face as he prepared a protest.
I ignored him and kept my eyes on Aru. We needed to be united. “But I’ve always enjoyed dosas. And I’m inclined to like them far more now that I can eat them with you.”
Vishwajeet closed his mouth slowly.
Instead of sitting, though, Aru walked over to me. “Why sit so far apart when we’re meant to be eating the dosas together?”
With a shake of his head, Vishwajeet recovered and clapped twice.
Two servants rushed to the table and carried Aru’s chair and plate to where he now stood.
Vishwajeet bowed deeply to Aru, as if he had done the work himself, and then brushed the marigold garlands into place after Aru had taken his seat.
“Have a bite.” I broke off a section of the thin pancake and pinched the potato filling between it.
Aru waited with his mouth open and shamelessly ran his tongue across my fingertips as I fed him. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he chewed. “The best bite of dosa I have ever tasted.”
“Thank you,” Vishwajeet said from behind Aru. “I’m glad the raja is pleased.”
Aru tried to cover his chuckle with his hand, and I buried my face in a cup of majjige.
“I hope you might also enjoy the other surprise I have for you,” Vishwajeet said. “I’ve arranged for your favorite Kuchipudi dancers to perform for you today. They will be ready as soon as you finish eating.”
He was stalling. Vishwajeet was plying Aru with all his favorites in an attempt to distract him from the discussion he didn’t want to have. He was treating his raja like a child.
And it was working. Aru’s face lit up. “What luck! Abbakka, you will love them—they move with such eloquence they put even the greatest poets to shame.”
“I have heard that the rani loves the arts,” Vishwajeet said ever so smoothly. “I hope my efforts will be pleasing to her too.”
I chewed deliberately, buying time before I responded.
Naming Vishwajeet’s distraction as such would only result in an argument.
But going to the dance would mean we had to watch the performance and thank the dancers with a feast and gifts.
Either way, Vishwajeet would avoid talking about trade. Annoyingly clever of him, really.
I decided to take a different approach, but I made sure I had Aru’s attention first. I dropped my left shoulder, and the heavily decorated loose end of my sari slipped off it.
It tumbled down my arm, revealing more of the neckline of my blouse.
Aru’s eyes raked over my collarbone as I brushed my fingers across it before lifting the fallen end of the sari and throwing it over my shoulder again.
His eyes lingered on my shoulder long after it was covered.
“What a coincidence,” I said to Vishwajeet.
“Both you and my husband have reminded me of my love for music today. I’d hoped to play my tambura tonight after the discussion with you and Parushi, but there won’t be any time if I attend the performance.
Perhaps you, Parushi, and I can speak about our trade, and I will convey the conversation to the raja when the show has finished. ”
“No.” Aru squeezed my hand. “It is generous of you to try to shoulder this burden alone, but we must do it together.”
He cocked his eyebrow at me and fed me a bite of dosa. “All of it.”
The food had long cooled by now, but my mouth still felt hot as I chewed.
Aru turned to a very deflated Vishwajeet. “Go get your figures, and have Parushi do the same.”
“But . . . the dosa,” Vishwajeet gestured behind him as a pair of servants brought out fresh plates for us with hot dosas.
“You and Parushi can have some too. Quick, go get her.” Aru turned to me and ran his thumb across my collarbone. “I have important plans for later today.”
When Vishwajeet returned, he had found his resolve again.
Deep lines carved through his face, and his back was rigid as he sat with his papers clutched tight in his hands.
Parushi had her rolled scrolls in a pile to her side.
Unlike Vishwajeet, she had no qualms about eating the dosa we offered her.
Parushi ate voraciously, ignoring Vishwajeet’s indignant glares.
Our chairs had been arranged so Parushi and Vishwajeet were equidistant from each other and from me and Aru, with Parushi on my side of the triangle and Vishwajeet on Aru’s. Invisible borders had been drawn with a forceful hand.
Aru finished his last bite and spoke. “My rani and I would like to discuss the state of trade in Banghervari and Ullal as well as the status of our relationship with the Porcugi.”
Parushi was content to continue chewing, but Vishwajeet practically jumped at the chance to speak.
“Banghervari remains an unequaled force in trade. Although some of our valley crops were destroyed by recent flooding, our hilltop crops were largely unharmed. In any other year, our trade would have been far less than last year, but with the Porcugi securing our shipments, we are able to trade at the same level.”
“How much does that protection cost you?” I asked.
“Sixteen percent. For now.” Vishwajeet crossed his arms.
“It seemed prudent at the time,” Aru said from beside me, “to offer them a little bit in exchange for their security.”
“I see.” I tried to hide my disgust. “Now that your trade is guarded by the Porcugi, you’re trading just as much as before the floods. Correct?”
“Yes.” Vishwajeet’s back was straight in defiance. “No loss whatsoever.”
“Is that before or after you’ve deducted the sixteen percent you’ve given to the Porcugi?”
Vishwajeet was utterly unprepared for the ferocity of my gaze.
“Before,” he mumbled.
“I didn’t hear you.” I had.
“Before,” he repeated, throwing his shoulders back again.
“Meaning your current trade income is approximately eighty-four percent of last year’s?”
All of Vishwajeet’s facial features were pulled to the middle of his face, and his cheeks began to color. He could grimace all he wanted; I would not back down. His word had gone unquestioned in Banghervari for long enough.
“It’s not that simple,” Vishwajeet spat.
“There is more nuance to trade than I can teach you in a single meeting. Besides, I am sure the rani and raja have more important things to do than worry about such details. Perhaps I should discuss this matter with Parushi, and then we can report to you later.”
If Vishwajeet thought he would have a more sympathetic audience with Parushi, he was sorely mistaken. But I wasn’t going to let him find out. “The raja and I are more than happy to discuss this with you, and I can assure you of my comprehension of economics.”
“Of course.” Vishwajeet’s words were deferential, but he gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles.
“In Ullal,” Parushi jumped in, “we do not pay the tithes, and our trade has increased since last year thanks to a bountiful harvest.”
“You don’t pay tithes because Banghervari pays them for you,” Vishwajeet snapped. “And it’s ridiculous to presume that we will continue to do so. You must pay your fair share.”
I exchanged a furious glance with Parushi.
Banghervari had been paying off my sister’s murderers in our name.
Nikith hadn’t pulled off a miracle when he negotiated my engagement—Aru, or more likely Vishwajeet, had found a way to work around my terms. They must have made a deal with the Porcugi on behalf of Ullal, which would explain why the attacks stopped so quickly after our engagement was finalized.
And why we were now receiving word that Ullal had been told to pay.
Aru had the decency to blush. “As one of the terms of our engagement, I promised I’d help stop the Porcugi attacks. This seemed the most prudent and expedient way.”
“The Porcugi murdered my family and friends.” I forced myself to speak calmly, even though I wanted to scream. “And all this time you’ve been paying them on my behalf?”
“I didn’t think of it like that.” Aru reached for my hand. “All I knew was that the Spirits wanted us to be together, and giving the Porcugi a bit of money seemed like the best way to make it happen.”
He spoke of money as if it was nothing. To him, it probably was.
But to me, it was about so much more than that. The money Aru gave the Porcugi helped to sustain and strengthen those monsters. It signaled that we’d rather cow to oppressors than fight with all our might.
I leaned toward Vishwajeet, deliberately articulating each word. “Ullal will pay no tithes.”
Aru squeezed my hand three times. I ignored him.
“I’m sure the thought of the cost overwhelms you, but you needn’t worry—you wouldn’t be expected to pay the full burden for Banghervari and Ullal.
” Vishwajeet’s cloying tone didn’t stop me from hearing the implication that Banghervari had already done this for Ullal. “Only ten percent of your trade.”
“Ten percent?” Parushi crossed her arms and cocked her head. “You said sixteen just a moment ago.”
I did the math in my head. “It’s sixteen percent when they pay theirs and ours. Banghervari is far larger, and they have more exports, so ten percent of Ullal’s trade is only six percent of theirs. They’re paying their ten percent plus six for us.”
Vishwajeet chose his words more carefully now and spoke with begrudging respect. “That’s true. Ullal has been spared the wrath of the Porcugi because of the sacrifices we’ve made in Banghervari. But the time has come for Ullal to pay its fair share.”
I pushed my chair away from the table. It toppled behind me and cracked against the stones of the courtyard as I stood. Everyone stared at me, and I let the silence hang on the table, shrouding it in my authority before I spoke.
“Ullal will pay no tithes,” I repeated. Low, quiet. Like the distant rumble of thunder that promised a storm if the winds dared to blow it toward our home.
“And neither will Banghervari.” Aru stood next to me. “We will cease all payment to the Porcugi now that we have better considered our alliances and the best path forward.”
“B-but—” Vishwajeet stammered.
“Vishwajeet!” Aru roared his warning. “The Spirits have spoken, and the way is clear. We will not pay tithes any longer. Summon my generals for a meeting tomorrow. Our work has just begun.”
At that moment, the sun emerged from behind a cloud, bathing Aru in light. It glinted off his heavy gold chain and lit his face, laying bare the fury behind his words. He was determined and unwavering, and he had kept his promise to me.
He turned to me and offered his hand. I took it, squeezing it three times. He returned the gesture as we walked back to the palace, but not even his smile could take away the determination in his gaze.
For the first time, I was proud to call him my husband.