Chapter 32
I made sure to show Aru my appreciation for his stance against the Porcugi as much as I could, in every way I could think of.
Truth be told, though, he only really cared about one.
Which worked out rather well, given the promise I’d made in my false prophecy.
As weeks passed by, I anxiously asked Chaaya about the fastest way to know I was pregnant.
She chuckled as she massaged my scalp and worked coconut oil into my curls. “If you are anything like your mother, you will know before you skip your bleeding.”
“But how?” I persisted.
“I will not tell you, Raniji.” She massaged my temples, knowing, without even looking, that I was clenching my jaw. “If I do, you’ll manufacture the sign yourself. When the time comes, you will know.”
No matter how much I demanded and pleaded, Chaaya held her ground.
To her credit, she listened patiently whenever I grumbled about the futility of being the rani if people wouldn’t obey my requests.
She’d just smile in that quiet way of hers and give me something to eat—I wasn’t sure if it was a peace offering or because chewing would keep me quiet.
Either way, it was a smart strategy. By the time I finished eating, I usually had to run off to meet with Aru or discuss news from home with Parushi or attend one of the many performances that Vishwajeet had scheduled.
I’d hoped to be able to participate in the council meetings, but it seemed Vishwajeet was still intent on keeping me away from Aru’s advisers.
I always showed up at the time I was invited, but inevitably there would be some change in schedule.
Vishwajeet never failed to apologize profusely, and he made a great show of berating whichever poor servant he decided to blame for not delivering a message he’d never sent.
Talking to him was useless, so I’d tried to get the information from Kamaraya.
Aru’s nephew had smiled apologetically and said, “If I told you, he’d just change the time. ”
Then he’d leaned in and whispered, “Forgive me, Rani, but sometimes it’s easier to go around a wall than to force our way through.”
Kamaraya’s advice had irritated me at the time, but later I realized he was probably right. I suspected that even if I managed to get Aru to tell me when and where the council was gathering, the meeting would be shifted, and Aru would forgive Vishwajeet because of his trust in him.
So I changed tactics. I told Aru that I wanted to ensure our union strengthened both of our nations, and I asked that the two of us have separate private meetings to review the advice from our councils and make sure our paths were aligned.
Aru had readily agreed but must have told Vishwajeet, because the next day the adviser smugly informed me that he would be joining our meetings as well, saying it was unfair to burden the raja with having to remember everything his advisers had said.
In a way, I was thankful for his hubris.
Thanks to his advance warning, I’d known I should invite Parushi as well, and so began the tradition of the four of us gathering together to discuss the policies of Banghervari and Ullal.
At first our discussions were short, but they became longer as Vishwajeet became increasingly frustrated that Aru wouldn’t change his mind about paying the tithe.
Inevitably, Aru’s adviser would pace up and down the large white-walled room where we met, pontificating about the difficulties of war with the Porcugi.
He would bemoan the tension among the soldiers and decry the difficulties our ships faced at sea as he begged us to reconsider our stance.
“Have we had any more losses?” I asked.
Banghervari merchant vessels had been attacked twice: eight days ago and twelve days before that.
Both times, the Porcugi had been repelled with minimal losses.
We’d begun sending our trade ships out in larger groups, and there was a contingent of soldiers aboard every one of them.
The ships could better defend themselves, and even though we’d lost one ship during the first attack, most of the crew safely boarded another boat before theirs went down.
“No, thank the Spirits.” Vishwajeet came and sat at the table with Aru, Parushi, and me.
“But it is only a matter of time. And everyone knows it. It hangs over their heads like storm clouds that refuse to let loose their rain. It’s one thing to live with the threat for a day or two; it’s quite another to grapple with the idea that it may never end. ”
“It will end,” I said. “We will drive the Porcugi back to the sea.”
“The Spirits have foretold it.” Aru’s faith in my “vision” didn’t waver.
Hopefully, that would last for as long as it took to conceive an heir.
“Yes, and then all of Banghervari and Ullal can prosper.” I thanked Aru with a shared glance. I liked to pretend nobody could see our little gestures of affection, but Parushi’s constant eye rolls proved otherwise.
“And is Ullal prospering?” Vishwajeet asked. It sounded less like a question and more like a celebration. “Parushi has not yet given her report.”
I kept my eyes on Aru, but I didn’t see him. I didn’t even think about him.
My mind was turning over Vishwajeet’s words.
He had never asked about Ullal before, and his interest today was oddly timed at best. Just this morning, I received a message from Nikith and Thevan saying that three of our ships had been lost in a bloody battle at sea.
It was our first loss in a long time, and the people at home were reeling.
But Vishwajeet wouldn’t have known that unless he had an informant—someone reading my mail.
“Ullal prospers,” Parushi said firmly. “People are grateful for the opportunity to avenge their friends and loved ones.”
“Really?” Vishwajeet said. “Surely there must be some attacks on your ships.”
“We have no fear of fighting.” Parushi jutted out her chin. “As I said, Ullal prospers.”
“What is the point of these meetings if you offer no specifics?” Vishwajeet slammed his index finger onto a map on the table. “You are determined to make a mockery of the union of Banghervari and Ullal.”
Aru put his hand on his forehead and slumped back into his chair.
He always seemed to withdraw at the first sign of conflict, and I still wasn’t quite sure how to manage it.
Growing up, I’d been constantly challenged by my uncle, Parushi, Thevan, and countless others, so I was used to having to defend my position.
But it seemed my husband needed some practice.
Parushi wasn’t about to let Vishwajeet have the last word. “Says the man who wants us to pay a murderous lover to join us in our beds. You should be ashamed! Our kingdoms deserve better than cowardice.”
“Enough!” I said. Even if I agreed with Parushi, I had to put an end to this or their argument would only escalate, and we’d never come to an agreement. “These accusations get us nowhere.”
Neither Parushi nor Vishwajeet even pretended to look repentant. They had tried to fake civility when these meetings first started, but those days were long gone. Now I was grateful for their silence.
“Let’s get something to eat before we continue,” I suggested.
“An excellent idea.” Aru finally spoke up. “I’m famished.”
Vishwajeet stepped out of the door, and a servant hurried to his side. She sprinted back to the kitchens after hearing his instructions.
Like him or not, Vishwajeet knew how to manage the palace. Staff came running at his command, and his word was law if any of them placed a toe out of line. It was part of why I didn’t trust my maids. I was sure at least some of them reported to him, and it was impossible to know how much they said.
After only a few moments, a cluster of servants appeared, carrying plates of idli and bowls of sambar.
Normally I loved dunking the fluffy steamed cakes into the delicious soup that was both spicy and sour, but today something was off.
My stomach heaved as they placed the steaming-hot food in front of me.
The idli smelled too sour and strong, as if the fermented batter had gone bad.
Aru had already taken one and was bringing it up to his mouth, but I pushed his hand away, and he ended up biting into the air. He blinked at me in surprise.
“Smell the idli,” I said. “The batter’s gone off.”
Aru sniffed the steam coming off his plate and then mine. “It’s fine to me . . .”
Parushi brought her plate up to her nose, inhaled deeply, and then shook her head.
“It’s off,” I insisted. “But if you want to risk the stomachache, I won’t stand in your way.”
“No need for that,” Vishwajeet said. He clapped his hands again and pointed at one of the servers that had brought in the food. The bearded man hurried to his side.
Vishwajeet picked up his plate and held it out. “Try this. Tell us if something is off.”
There wasn’t even time for me to protest or to wave the servant away. He dunked an idli into the sambar and took a large bite. He chewed it slowly. “Delicious.”
“Good,” Vishwajeet said. He thrust the plate into the man’s hands. “Take this away and bring me a new one.”
I stared at my plate. The idlis looked soft, and their fluffy texture had just the right amount of give between my fingers. But even after I dipped them in the sambar, I couldn’t stop myself from gagging when I lifted the bite to my mouth.
Aru leaped out of his chair. He chewed frantically and tried to swallow so he could speak, but he’d taken far too large a bite.
“Excuse me.” I rose abruptly and, before he could reach me, ran back to my room with Parushi following close behind.
She called out to someone and told them to summon Chaaya as I ran through the halls and up the stairs—the people milling through the palace were so surprised to see me that most started to bow long after I’d passed. At least I was still fast.
Not ladylike, though. I could practically hear Ektha’s voice admonishing me. Still, even though she’d never broached the subject of vomit, I was fairly certain she’d want me to keep the event to myself.
I kept my lips clamped shut and continued to run until I reached my chambers and slammed the doors behind me. After grabbing a nearby bowl, I finally allowed my stomach to release.
I heaved into the bowl until nothing was left. But that was not enough. My body demanded that I expel more as my stomach flipped and clenched. Chaaya appeared by my side and took the bowl from my hand as she held my hair away from my face.
My stomach finally stopped heaving, and I stood straighter, inhaling deeply through my nose. The acrid smell made me gag again, but I pushed it down, refusing to throw up anymore. Chaaya hurried away with the bowl, and Parushi inched forward. She offered me a wet cloth with an outstretched arm.
“Thank you.” I took the cloth from Parushi and wiped off my face and mouth. There was no saving my hair. I’d need Chaaya to take care of that later, but I tried to get the bulk of it clean.
“I’ll take blood over vomit any day.” Parushi gagged and turned away. “What happened?”
“I told you the idli was off,” I said exasperatedly. “Nobody listened.”
“The idli was fine.” Parushi shrugged as I glared at her. “Not as good as at home, but certainly edible.”
“Any fool could smell that the batter had gone off.” My stomach flipped again just thinking about it.
“Call me a fool all you want,” Parushi said. “But the raja smelled yours and said it was fine, and that servant didn’t notice anything either.”
Understanding dawned on Chaaya’s face. “I doubt anyone would have known anything was wrong except the rani.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, collapsing to the floor and sitting cross-legged, which sent my sari into complete disarray.
Chaaya crouched down at my side and smiled widely. “You remember the sign you’ve been asking about? You are your mother’s daughter.”