Chapter 35
A few weeks later, blaring horns awoke me from my midday nap. I sat up like a shot as they sounded again, this time from all over the palace and its grounds.
“An attack!” Parushi called out from the sitting room. “The Porcugi!”
“Help me,” I said to Chaaya as I pushed down my bubbling nausea and began to unwrap my sari.
It was far simpler than the ones I wore while touring Banghervari, but it was still impractical for riding, let alone battle.
I unfurled the cloth from the top of my petticoat, which now had to sit above the small bump that had begun to protrude.
Chaaya came to my side and helped unwrap my sari obediently, leaving me in my blouse and petticoat by the time she was done. She looked confused but said nothing as she began to fold the long strip of cloth.
Nallini came in. “What are you doing?”
The healer monk had settled into our routine here, bringing me various teas and concoctions to help with my nausea while Chaaya watched and nodded her approval.
Even Parushi gave her some begrudging respect when she realized how much less she was having to deal with the smell of vomit.
But as much as Nallini understood our routine, she knew nothing of my training.
She wouldn’t know that the call to battle was also for me.
Parushi slammed my bedchamber’s door open. “The Porcugi came up the river and are attacking. I will join the defense.”
She turned to leave but stopped abruptly and turned back to me as if she suddenly realized I was missing the yards and yards of cloth that usually cocooned me. “What are you doing?”
“I asked the same question,” Nallini said.
The sari was folded into a neat rectangle now, and Chaaya hurried out of the room to put it away—almost as if she didn’t want to stay for the conversation.
“I couldn’t wear that,” I said. “I would never be able to ride Maraan properly in it.”
“You mean to say . . .” Nallini’s voice faded, and she looked at Parushi.
“You can’t fight.” Parushi crossed her arms and stood between me and the door.
“Of course I can! I must. What’s the point in me having all of this training if I don’t use it when we need it most?” I raised my voice and called out, “Chaaya, bring me one of my kaashtha saris!”
“No, Chaaya!” Parushi began to yell before I even finished. “That won’t be necessary.”
She turned back to me. “You can’t go riding into battle when you’re vomiting”—she wrinkled her nose at the thought—“every time you smell anything even slightly unpleasant. And your foot still hasn’t healed because you insist on continuing to walk instead of resting properly.
Not to mention the fact that you’re carrying the heir, for Spirits’ sake! ”
“Well, I can’t exactly put the heir down,” I snapped.
I ignored her point about my nausea because she was right; Chaaya was constantly fretting that I was getting too thin because I could hardly keep any food down.
But I wasn’t about to admit that. “And my foot is fine. Now leave and let Chaaya dress me unless you want to see me ride out in my petticoat.”
Nallini had found her voice again. “Forgive me, Rani, but Parushi is right.”
I stared at her. Parushi pointed at Nallini with both of her hands, as if to say See! Even she thinks so.
“Congratulations,” Nallini said dryly. “You’ve finally forced us to agree.”
“You can’t ride into battle in your condition,” Parushi said. “If a Porcugi hurts you, it’s not just you who’s getting hurt. It’s the baby too.”
“Even if it’s not a Porcugi,” Nallini said.
“Even if you just hurt yourself while riding, sometimes that can cause enough harm. Women have come to the temple after falls from their horses. They would beg us to help their baby as they bled, but by then the Spirits had already claimed the little one as their own.”
The horns blared again.
Parushi looked desperate to join, but she refused to leave. “You must stay. Just think: If something happens to you, what will happen to Ullal?”
“Think what Vishwajeet will do,” Nallini said quietly.
Their words may as well have been a punch to my stomach. I thumped down on my bed. “Vishwajeet . . . he would claim Ullal for Banghervari. There’s no other known heir to Ullal, so he will claim it is the raja’s right.”
My emphasis on the word “known” did not go unnoticed by Parushi.
She stiffened as she stood straight and spoke again.
“Raja Lakshmappa would have the clearest and most legitimate claim to Ullal. Your agreement before you were married won’t matter anymore—he would claim Ullal, remarry, and give both Banghervari and Ullal to his eldest son. ”
“A raja would inherit Ullal.” I rubbed my temples. “It wouldn’t even be Ullal anymore.”
Chaaya came back into the room and stood behind Parushi and Nallini. The three of them waited for me to speak again, and Parushi did her best to stop her hands from reaching for the sword she hadn’t strapped on yet when the horns blared out again.
I stood. “I will not fight. But I am counting on you, Parushi, to uphold the honor of Ullal.”
Parushi’s relieved expression was quickly replaced with a look of frenzied energy. “Consider it done.”
No sooner had she finished her sentence than she turned on her heel and left, stopping only to grab her weapons and armor before sprinting out the doors.
Chaaya hurried to my side. She hadn’t even brought the kaashtha sari I’d demanded, but she had managed to find one of my saris from home.
The black cloth with green embroidery smelled like Ullal, and I inhaled deeply as she wound it around me.
I could almost taste the salt of the ocean and hear the crashing waves on our shores.
Ullal, first and forever. It was why I was here. It was why I needed to fight off the monstrous Porcugi.
And also why I couldn’t.
I placed my hand on my little bump, cradling it. “The next rani of Ullal,” I whispered.
“You should sit down,” Nallini said.
“Easier said than done.” I continued to pace around my chambers.
The waiting was interminable. I had never stopped to wonder what it might have been like for Uncle Trimulya as he waited for word about me and Ektha when the Porcugi attacked.
Had he paced through his chambers as I did?
Had he fought the relentless urge to desert his position of safety and rally the troops himself?
To their credit, Chaaya and Nallini had tried their best to keep me busy after Parushi had left—Chaaya with an endless parade of food and drink and Nallini with a barrage of information about the powers of various herbs—but I had little patience for either of them.
Nallini gestured at my still-wrapped foot. “Your wound was quite deep and is newly healed. This will not help you.”
I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of wincing even though my foot was pounding.
“Please, I have a seat ready for you.” Chaaya gestured to a chair with a cup of hot ginger tea waiting next to it. “I added extra jaggery and cardamom for you, Raniji.”
Chaaya hadn’t forgotten how to get my attention. I sat down and sipped the tea. As much as I wanted to dismiss it as ineffective, it did help me—and my stomach—calm down. My fingertips relaxed, and I settled into the back of the chair as I cradled the warm cup.
“I just want to know how it’s going,” I said with a sigh.
“Your husband may know,” Nallini said.
“Yes, I am sure he would, but I can’t go anywhere near the battlefield, so asking him is out of the question.” I waved her off as I tried to think of who else I could ask. “Vishwajeet will probably know, and I doubt he’s fighting, but if there’s a way to avoid talking to him . . .”
“The raja never fights.” Nallini truly had a talent for saying the most explosive words with the calmest voice. “He always stays in the palace.”
“My husband is in the palace while his people are fighting?” My eyebrows were probably touching my hairline, but there was nothing to be done about that. “He’s not even at the back of the battle where his generals can report to him?”
“Vishwajeet insists.” Nallini’s voice was flat. “Without a direct heir, he must stay safe.”
“I see.” Two of us could have flat voices. “Then I will find him.”
I rose up and brushed my black sari so it fell smoothly, but Nallini put a hand out. “Perhaps you want to reconsider your attire?”
“In Ullal, we may dress plainly, but we have the courage to face our enemies.” I was seething. The pomp and splendor of this court amounted to nothing but a distraction from the fact that its leader had been raised to be spineless. No amount of gold could replace those bones.
“Maybe so,” Nallini said, “but if you want your husband to listen to you, he can’t see you as anything less than stunning. You need to make him . . . long for you.”
Her pause didn’t go unnoticed. Although Aru and I still took our daily walks together in the gardens, it had been some time since we’d shared any intimacy.
His fears about somehow hurting our baby stopped him from acting upon the lust that still filled his eyes.
The healers had intimated that Aru’s worries were unfounded, but nothing would persuade him.
More than ever, Aru had made me an idol; something to admire, protect at all costs, and lavish with gifts.
Much as I hated to admit it, Nallini was right.
Chaaya and I went to my bedchamber, where she helped me change as quickly as she could.
She chose a cobalt sari bedecked in silver embroidery and turquoise gems that shimmered in the light.
Typical Banghervari. Stunning to look at, impossible to wear comfortably.
But I didn’t argue. Her hands flew as she helped me dress, but just as she finished, the doors to the outer chamber burst open.
I bolted to the sitting room to see who had dared to disturb the sanctity of my space.
Parushi stood there, just inside the doors, clutching her abdomen as her tunic blossomed with red. Her sword clattered from her grip and onto the floor.
Nallini was at her side in an instant. “Any other injuries?” she asked.
“No.” Sweat ran down Parushi’s forehead, and her blinks were too long. “But something’s not right. It burns.”
“What—” I didn’t finish my question because footsteps clamored outside. I slammed the doors shut.
“Nobody else,” Parushi grunted through her teeth. “Only her.”
She locked eyes with Nallini, who nodded.
“Get her into your room.” I glanced toward the door. “They must be searching for her. Chaaya, get Nallini whatever she needs. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve made sure we won’t be disturbed.”
Before she went, Chaaya clasped a silver necklace studded with sapphires around my neck and helped me stack some turquoise bangles in front of my sister’s. She stepped back and looked at me, nodding with pride before she bowed deeply. “You are your mother’s daughter. The rani of Ullal.”
And I would not let them forget that.
Chaaya hurried after Nallini and Parushi as the footsteps outside stopped at the doors to my chambers. There was some murmuring, and then someone rapped sharply. I slid Parushi’s sword toward the wall so it was out of sight and let them wait a moment before opening one of the double doors.
Vishwajeet barely avoided hitting me in the face as he went to knock again. “What took so—oh, Rani Abbakka! Why are you answering the door?”
The three guards who flanked him seemed just as surprised.
“Because I heard a knock.”
Vishwajeet’s snarl vanished as he bowed and tried to fix his tone. “Please forgive the intrusion, Rani, but I came with concerns that Parushi might be hurt.”
I remained silent. I wasn’t going to give him anything. He would have to earn every single step forward in this conversation.
Vishwajeet spoke again when he realized I wouldn’t. “I received reports she was injured, and I wanted to check on her. I will take her to the infirmary so her wounds can be tended to.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I stepped back and prepared to close the door. “Parushi did lend her sword to Banghervari’s cause and was wounded, but her injury is minor. Nothing to concern yourself about.”
Vishwajeet stepped forward so his toes crossed the threshold. I wouldn’t be able to close the door without crushing them.
It was very tempting.
He tried, and failed, to hide his satisfaction as he flourished his hand toward a few spots of blood smeared on the floor.
I hadn’t noticed them before, but I hid my surprise and stared at him in silence.
His determination to have Parushi go to the infirmary only strengthened my resolve to keep her here.
“Yes?” I finally asked, as if I were genuinely curious about why I should be surprised there was blood on my floors.
“It would seem that her injury may be more severe than it appeared,” he gloated.
“Oh, you need not worry about that.” I lifted the hem of my sari and showed him my bandaged foot. “I have a cut that’s healing. Chaaya will clean that up.”
For a moment, Vishwajeet’s fists clenched, but he relaxed them, finger by finger, and refused to move from the doorway. The smile I had plastered on my face became a bit more natural as I heard the undercurrent of strain in his voice.
“I’m afraid the rani might be in denial about the severity of her close friend’s injury.” Vishwajeet put a hand on his chest. “I must insist that Parushi come to the infirmary.”
I straightened my shoulders and stood tall, arching my chin so I could look down at Vishwajeet. “You must what?”
It was a question, but I spoke each word as a sentence.
Vishwajeet cleared his throat. “I must . . . ask the rani to consider sending Parushi to the infirmary.”
“Thank you for your concern.” My words were as sweet as syrup. “I know you’re grateful for Parushi’s service, and I appreciate your distress. But Nallini is here, and we are thankful for her expertise in healing. She will take care of Parushi.”
Not even a fish could open its mouth quite so round as Vishwajeet did.
“Thank the Spirits you brought her to me,” I continued. “I’m sure she is more than capable of taking care of Parushi’s little cut, and we can leave the space in the infirmary open for those who need it more. I will let you know if that changes.”
I closed the door, giving Vishwajeet just enough time to get out of the way.
Vishwajeet’s footsteps slapped down the hall as he left, and the others shuffled behind him.
I started to head to Parushi’s quarters but stopped and looked back at the doors.
Guided more by instinct than rationality, I took Parushi’s fallen sword and stuck the blade through the handles, and then I followed the speckled trail of blood to her room.