Chapter 37 #2
It cannot be easy to be away from your childhood home at a time like this.
I wish I could provide you with the solace that your sister would have, but we both know that she was a singular soul.
For now, I can only give you this. I hope her memory brings you the comfort that it has for me as we strive to make Ullal the place that she believed it could become.
Your brother,
Nikith
My hand trembled as I reached for the package.
In it was Ektha’s cream shawl—the one that Nikith had gifted to her on the day of her engagement.
I’d seen it when the letter first arrived and had been about to take it out of the package when I’d caught the scent of her favored sandalwood incense.
It had brought back memories of Ektha, so I’d pushed it away with tear-rimmed eyes.
But now I was ready. I pulled it from its wrapping and ran my fingers reverently over its silver embroidery. Sticks of incense fell out as I unfolded it, and I put them aside. It didn’t stop the scent from cocooning me as I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders.
It filled me with warmth. It wasn’t an embrace from her, but this was as near as I could get. So I held it close.
Eventually, I returned my attention to the papers filled with endless rows of numbers and figures.
Information about imports, exports, counts of the goods, profits for the entire nation—it was all there.
Tallying was complicated, to say the least. It consumed all my attention, and I lost track of time.
A bang at the door broke me free of my numerical trance.
“I have a message for the rani!” Vishwajeet’s voice rang out from the halls.
Nallini peeked out of the room she shared with Parushi, but I signaled for her to stay there. Whatever Vishwajeet wanted to say could wait until I met with the raja.
There was another bang, this one louder than the last. Before I could respond, Vishwajeet gave his orders. “Don’t just stand there! Open it.”
The door swung open, bouncing off the walls, and Vishwajeet swept in. He cocked his chin up so he could look down into the room. I was sitting directly in front of where he stood, and I stared in shock, papers still hanging in midair as he approached me.
“You have no right—” I began.
Vishwajeet stopped directly in front of me and leaned down.
He lowered a pointed finger in front of my face, bending my papers as he came within a thumb’s width of my nose.
“Let me make something very clear: I have every right. I am the arm of the raja, like my father before me, and you will listen to the message he has sent you.”
His eyes were so close to mine that it was impossible to focus on them. I could see the pores on his nose, and his breath smelled like fennel and the remains of his breakfast. It was a relief in many ways when he stepped back.
The two soldiers that came in with Vishwajeet stood at the door, and they were looking away pointedly. I doubted they would respond to any orders that didn’t come from Vishwajeet himself, so asking them to remove him would do no good.
Nor would sitting and sulking like a spoiled child.
I put my papers down and smoothed them, erasing the fold he’d created.
I wasn’t about to rush on his account. Then I scooted back on the sofa, ignoring the soft, peacock blue cushions behind me and keeping my back straight as a board.
My uncle had taught me that posture has its own power, and a change in it was a language unto itself.
Vishwajeet took a seat in the heavy wood chair across from me, making a show of leaning back and getting comfortable in my space. He put his hands firmly on top of the carved elephants that decorated the chair’s arms.
“Good. I have your attention.” Without his usual simpering, sycophantic smile, it was easier to see the coldness in Vishwajeet’s eyes; like coals doused in water, without a trace of flame left within.
“You may have gotten away with your antics in your little kingdom, but they will not be tolerated here. You are the rani of Banghervari, and it is time for you to take that role more seriously. Your job is to carry yourself with grace, beauty, and decorum as you provide this kingdom with an heir. Preferably silently.”
“Does the raja know you’re here?” I placed a hand on my stomach and looked up at Vishwajeet coolly. I made sure my next sentence was spoken without any emotion. “This situation is quite distressing, and the raja doesn’t like it when anything upsets me.”
“He knows.” Vishwajeet’s eyes snapped with satisfaction.
“We’ve spoken at length, and by the time we finished, he agreed that there was no need for you two to meet.
He has decided to make a deal with the Porcugi.
Banghervari and Ullal will pay the tithes, and the Porcugi will protect us at sea. It is done.”
A fire exploded inside of me. Its flames sneaked up my neck and toward my cheeks. The air between us crackled with our unspoken shouts, but I refused to succumb to his goading. I refused to play into his ideas about women in their emotions. I refused to lose Ullal.
“As the arm of the raja, you may certainly speak for him, and he may speak for Banghervari.” I leaned forward and tapped on the papers in front of me. “But I speak for Ullal. It was in our marriage agreement. And I say that Ullal will pay no tithes.”
“He is the raja.” Vishwajeet played with the green tassel on his pillow, flipping it back and forth.
“He is second to none, and no piece of paper is stronger than the union of your marriage. The raja, in his divine wisdom, has decided the best course for our nations, and we will all follow his will.”
I sat up straight as I made a note to reach out to Nikith later. My brother-in-law would need to find a way to enforce the agreements he’d negotiated. But for now, arguing about the rights of the raja would get me nowhere. It was time to appeal to Vishwajeet’s more self-serving interests.
“How can you say this is the best course?” I asked him. “We can’t live our whole lives indebted to the Porcugi. They’ll keep taking more, leaving less and less for us and our people. They’re not asking for payment; they’re demanding a bribe.”
“Did you not see enough pain after the battle? Enough suffering? How many of our people need to die before their lives are worth the price? We should be thankful we have something to offer them—it’s the only thing that might spare us.”
“If we give away our crops, they’ll never be done with us,” I countered. “What will stop the Porcugi from asking for more and more until we have nothing left?”
Vishwajeet crossed his arms and stayed silent. His face was impossible to read.
“What if we find a way to fight them better?” I pressed. “You could test Nallini’s paste before trying it on soldiers, and in Ullal we’ve begun to use longbows. They’re a bit unwieldy, but what if we could find a way to—”
“Enough!” Vishwajeet’s echo rang out through the room, making the soldiers by the door jump and stare before they remembered that they were supposed to be looking away.
“We could spend all day speaking of what-ifs. What if the Porcugi had never come? What if the raja hadn’t fallen in love with you?
What if there’d been no traitorous servant?
Life is filled with what-ifs, but they’re not reality.
The raja sees the truth of what is happening and has made his choice. ”
I lowered my voice so the soldiers at the door wouldn’t hear. “You mean you made his choice.”
Vishwajeet leaned in with a conspiratorial grin, as if we were sharing a secret. “Of course. The raja has sought and trusted my guidance since his childhood. Nothing can change that. Not even you.”
I inhaled sharply. Maybe I couldn’t change it yet, but I wasn’t in the habit of saying never.
Vishwajeet tutted, reading my thoughts. “You may have succeeded in delaying my plans, but I was always going to have the last word with the raja. If you’re wise, you’ll accept that. I’m not a man you want as your enemy.”
“I’m not looking for more enemies.” I drew Ektha’s shawl tight around me. “But only a fool would think I could stand by when something needs to be done. And you are no fool.”
“Indeed I am not.” He affixed me with narrowed eyes. “And neither are you.”
Vishwajeet stood abruptly and walked past me, toward my window, where a large aloe vera grew in a pot. The tips of the plant had recently become brown and wilted. I craned my neck to watch Vishwajeet examine the thick leaves.
“The mother plant is sick,” he said. His words rang through the room even though he was staring at the aloe plant.
“But there are some new plants sprouting at the base. I will have someone come and check on it regularly. We can’t allow the disease to spread to the young.
It may be necessary to separate the plants from each other. ”
Vishwajeet ripped off a wilting leaf and dropped it on the ground. He turned back and affixed me with an unblinking stare as he crushed it beneath his foot. Its gel oozed out beneath his sandal. “By whatever means necessary.”
My fingertips tingled, and I suppressed a shudder. I doubted this was the first time he’d given such a warning. Or that it would be the last.
Vishwajeet tracked aloe gel along the shining white floor as he closed the distance between us. “A Porcugi emissary will be paying a visit soon. I believe you know him—Kamran Khalil. When he comes, we’ll announce our partnership, and you will sign on Ullal’s behalf.”
I remembered Kamran—the man who strutted in the finery gifted to him by his captors without realizing that not all cages had bars. More importantly, I remembered my uncle’s last promise to him: Ullal will pay no tithes.
I didn’t move as Vishwajeet turned and walked to the doors. Before he left, he bowed deeply, but it wasn’t his usual begrudging show of respect. Today he did it with a flourish—the panache that comes with victory.
“The plant is strong,” he said, gesturing back to the aloe. “I’m sure it can thrive with time, if it just learns to acclimate to the Banghervari climate. It may not be easy, but we’ll do whatever it takes.”
I stared at him in silent mutiny. My pulse reverberated from my chest to my toes, but I did everything I could to keep my mask of calm.
Vishwajeet stared, waiting for me to break. When I didn’t, he signaled to the guards. One of them stepped forward and offered something to Vishwajeet. He nodded and turned back to me. The syrupy sweetness of his smile made my stomach clench.
“I can only imagine that sitting for long periods of time is becoming more uncomfortable for you.” He offered me a large black pillow that shone like the ocean on a moonless night. It had a thick border of matching tassels all the way around it. “I commissioned this pillow as a gift.”
Confused by his consideration, I accepted it.
“I have never seen anything like it.” I ran my fingers over the pillow. The covering was surprisingly thick and heavy. Sturdy, yet silky. Even though I’d never encountered such a fabric, it felt oddly familiar. But my fingertips could not place the memory.
“Indeed.” For the first time all day, Vishwajeet’s eyes smiled with his mouth. “It is one of a kind. It’s made of horsehair.”
Horsehair. Black horsehair.
Maraan.
My hands flexed around the tassels involuntarily, but my fingers stopped as they brushed against hard, cold metal.
A lump caught in my throat, and it was impossible to swallow.
I recognized the flower pattern without looking, but I couldn’t help myself.
I stared at Ektha’s bangle with Mother’s payal bells still attached.
It was tied to the fringe of the pillow, but the shiny silver was obscured by the heavy horsehair and the dark, crusted bloodstains covering much of the metal.
Chaaya.
My mouth turned to ash.
Vishwajeet leaned in close. “No more what-ifs. The plant must adapt. The emissary is coming. And the tithes will be paid. It is done.”
He turned to the doors and strode out without a backward glance.
When the doors had been firmly closed, I collapsed onto the pillows behind me as I tried to make sense of the dizzying specter in front of me.
The door to Nallini and Parushi’s room slammed open, and Parushi charged in. “Did you hear what he said?”
I stared at the pillow mutely, holding it up for her to see. Nallini let out a gasp and fell to the floor, but Parushi was too incensed to stop.
“He knew about the servant who poisoned your uncle!”
I blinked at her in surprise. She was right. Vishwajeet had mentioned a “treasonous servant,” even though we had kept Ulagan’s betrayal a secret.
My hands shook on the pillow, which I wanted to both pull closer and throw across the room, but I couldn’t find the strength to do either.
Squeezing my eyes shut didn’t stop memories from flashing in front of them.
During Aru’s first visit, it was Vishwajeet who had screamed at Ulagan when he tried to serve Aru after Uncle Trimulya declined.
He had stopped Aru from eating from the poisoned platter and ensured it went back to my uncle instead.
My head felt oddly light on top of my heavy body, and the world spun. Vishwajeet had almost certainly orchestrated my uncle’s death. What else had he done?
Parushi had finally seen the pillow and bangle, and her face lost its color, but I said nothing as I remembered that the Porcugi’s first attack had happened after our emissaries had visited Banghervari.
Vishwajeet could have easily told them what route my uncle would take and where to expect us.
Why else would the Porcugi be attacking on land when there were no goods to be taken?
Vishwajeet had almost certainly planned the first attack. Perhaps even the attack when Banghervari saved us in Ullal.
He’d planned my uncle’s murder.
And Chaaya’s.
And Maraan’s.
All of it.
He had planned all of it without me seeing it until he’d decided to show his hand. We were exactly where he wanted us to be, and he wanted me to know it.
I had been a fool.