Chapter 38
“Are you sure you’re all right, dearest?” Aru touched my arm tentatively, as if I might break if he pushed too hard.
Telling him I was already broken probably wouldn’t help.
I just wanted him to leave me alone. He’d become so attentive in all the wrong ways, as if he thought that his gifts would somehow make me feel better about signing a contract I despised.
Every time he saw a hint of a frown on my face, he’d offer me a sweet I had no interest in eating or a jewel I had no interest in wearing.
I would accept his gifts with a smile, taking bites that turned into ash on my tongue or adding more ornaments to my already glittering attire, and he would pretend he had fixed whatever plagued me.
Sometimes I dreamed of telling Aru about Vishwajeet’s true nature—about his schemes with the Porcugi, his threats toward me, and his hand in the murders of my uncle, Chaaya, and Maraan.
But I never did. I knew what would happen if I spoke up.
Aru would summon Vishwajeet, Vishwajeet would deny it all, and I’d have nothing to prove his guilt.
A pillow was just a pillow, everyone knew I never took off my bangle, and Chaaya was supposed to be with her nephew.
I had no real evidence. Vishwajeet would lean into that, and he’d make sure I fell even further in Aru’s estimation.
He’d probably throw in some comments about how pregnancy had made me even more emotional and that these delusions were just additional proof that I couldn’t be trusted to manage the future of Ullal.
Being the rani gave me little credibility here; it made me first among women but last among men.
Thus, Aru and I continued to live in parallel, side by side but never truly walking on common ground.
We had a script. A routine. An understanding.
We knew our parts and spoke our lines, but neither of us would say the words that had split us apart.
He had decided our nations would pay the tithes, and nothing I could do would change that.
Vishwajeet’s threats hung over me like the endless stream of servants he sent to take care of my every need and watch my every move.
So I ate the sweets and wore the jewelry and smiled with my mouth alone as I let the fog that had clouded my mind embrace me.
Now that I’d stopped fighting, I realized how tired I was.
The exhaustion from the pregnancy and the nausea and the formality and the gamesmanship had all rolled together and eroded my strength—like waves dragging away at the sand beneath me until I stood on nothing.
I knew I needed to rekindle the forge that helped me shape my sadness into anger—into action—but I couldn’t.
And I didn’t want to.
One morning at breakfast, Aru declared that he had two surprises for me, but we’d need to travel to see them.
I murmured my thanks, and we climbed into our chariot as soon as he finished eating.
Vishwajeet, Nallini, and a throng of servants and soldiers followed behind in a royal caravan that accompanied us to the Netravathi River.
We crossed together in a small boat but then separated again once we got to the shore.
Sitting in Aru’s chariot made me feel even farther from home.
In Ullal, the royal chariot was comfortable, but it had still been made for speed.
This one was the opposite: It had ornate carvings and a lush seat that easily accommodated both Aru and me.
It even had a roof so we could sit comfortably in the shade and watch the people who ran out to gawk at us in all our splendor as we passed by.
I held Ektha’s bangle so tight that my mother’s payal bells hardly jangled as we bumped along. Their memories didn’t give me enough strength to fight, but they did help me play the part I needed to. I was doing this for Ullal. For the people I loved.
Aru reached out and squeezed my knee three times. I love you.
I covered his hand with mine and squeezed it back reflexively. I’m trapped here.
The gesture reassured Aru, at least. He couldn’t feel my exhaustion through my fingers. I pulled my hand away, and he grabbed my wrist.
“You’re hurt!” Aru turned my hand up, revealing blood on my palm. It pooled in the imprint of Ektha’s bangle and my mother’s payal bells.
I blinked in confusion and then saw that the bangle right next to Ektha’s had broken. “It’s nothing—I hadn’t even noticed it.”
That only made Aru even more concerned. He ignored my protests as he cut a strip from his angavastra and wrapped my hand. “You seem to make a habit of this.”
Memories of our meeting on the turmeric field rushed at me—the splattering rain, the smashed orange roots, and his sea green eyes taking my breath away as he smiled shyly and wrapped my cut with a strip of his kurta.
It hadn’t been so long ago.
Not so long ago, my uncle was ruling Ullal, and my sister had held me close in the stepwell after the adaiman led Aru to me.
It was a lifetime ago.
“I’ll have to start carrying bandages with me,” he said, peeking up from his curls as he lifted my bandaged hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss.
“Thank you.” I pulled my hand back but stopped midair as the scent of salt filled my nostrils.
Aru smiled widely. “I’ve been working on something special for you. I know how much you’ve missed the sea.”
My heart leaped. I hadn’t been on a beach since I’d come to Banghervari. I longed to feel the warm sand between my toes, to see the endless blue above and below, and to hear the waves crashing onto the shore before they retreated in sinuous lines of foam. The knot in my chest began to loosen.
“That’s the first true smile I’ve seen from you for weeks!” Aru’s joy mirrored my own. “Welcome to Mangaluru!”
When we stepped out of the chariot, my hope evaporated. I looked out to the blue waves of the ocean, past the bustling port in front of us, and tried not to wish I was looking at the shores of Ullal.
But even the beach was different here. The cacophony of yells and bangs from the port and the nearby building site echoed through the air.
People screamed orders at each other as they built white walls that reached from the sand toward the sky, drowning out the waves and the calls of the petrels flying overhead.
None of it was right.
Aru clasped my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.” I gave him a small smile, but Aru signaled to the servants that had accompanied us anyway.
One woman came and offered me water while another held out some plump purple figs.
After a few sips of water, I took a fig and nibbled on it.
Not even the explosive sweet flavor within the velvety flesh could awaken my senses.
The dissonance of the port—not just within itself but with my expectations—had brought that fog back again. And I welcomed it.
Aru cocked an eyebrow at me as he waved away the figs and water that were offered to him.
Vishwajeet stepped forward. “I am sure the rani is just overwhelmed at the sight of such a thriving port. The one in Ullal is quite . . . different. To scale with the country.”
I didn’t even have the energy to fight with him about his aspersions at Ullal’s expense. “It is, indeed, very different from home.”
“Home?” Aru gave a crestfallen sigh. “You still don’t think of Banghervari as your home?”
Behind him, I could see Vishwajeet’s stinging glare and Nallini’s panicked expression.
“Of course Banghervari has become a home for me.” I reached for his hand, and he squeezed tight as soon as we touched. “But I think it’s natural for a woman to long for her mother’s home at a time like this.”
To my surprise, Aru’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Then I think you will especially like the first surprise I’ve arranged for you.”
Aru gestured toward a dock with a few people milling nearby.
Two healers approached, one in a mustard yellow sari and one in a saffron robe, and their horses followed behind them.
Their blurry faces were impossible to make out from so far away, but my breath caught when I saw the long silver braid of the petite woman in the sari.
Once I noticed it, there was no mistaking her self-assured stride.
“Tara!” I exclaimed.
“Spirits, I love your smile,” Aru said.
I hadn’t even realized how much my expression had changed, but I didn’t stop. I also hadn’t meant to start walking toward Tara, but I continued that as well.
Soon I could see her snapping black eyes, thin lips, and eventually the wrinkles around her eyes. They deepened as she saw my face and frowned.
She bowed, as did the healer behind her. “Blessings on you, Rani Abbakka.”
Aru was positively beaming as he came to my side. Tara bowed again and said, “And on the Raja Lakshmappa. May the Spirits favor you and your people.”
Vishwajeet came and stood behind Aru. His eyes flicked from Tara to me to his raja, as if he were unsure where they should settle.
The haze in my mind cleared for a moment as I stared at Vishwajeet’s perplexed face. He’d had no idea that Tara was coming, which meant that it couldn’t have been Parushi or Nallini that sent for her; we were watched too closely. Had Aru set this up himself?
Aru smiled widely. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to host anyone that brings so much joy to my rani. Thank you for responding to my message so quickly.” He ran one of his fingers from my cheek to my jawline. “Were you surprised, dearest?”
“To say the least.” I cupped his hand against mine, feeling its warmth and wishing it would fill me as it once did. Wishing he weren’t a puppet whose strings were so easily pulled by the allure of ease. Wishing his spine was as strong as his heart.
“It means so much to you!” Aru wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and drew me close, enveloping me in his arms even though we were in the company of so many.
“Parushi mentioned you might be missing her, so there was only one thing to do. It was hard to keep it a secret, but seeing your face has made it all worth it.”
As Aru held me, Tara began to fidget. Her body was completely still, and she looked away pointedly, but she kept making the same motion with her hand: a small circle with her index finger, then a tap toward the ground.
I wrapped Aru into a tighter embrace as I watched closely. She repeated the action, and there was no mistaking it. It was the same signal that my uncle had taught Thevan, Parushi, Samanth, and me while we were training. It signaled a faint. A fall.
Tara wanted me to fall.
Easily done. I opened the bottle of emotions that I’d closed tight for so long.
My breaths clawed through me, rough and tearing, as I tried to find enough air to inhale.
Sobs shook my body as all the emotions I’d carefully bottled away shattered their vessel and their ululations reverberated through me.
My knees buckled, and I didn’t fight my descent as I slipped through Aru’s arms and onto the sand.
Tara was instantly by my side.
“Don’t just stand there!” Tara snapped. “Get some cool water! On a cloth!”
The other healer that had come raced to the ocean and dunked some fabric in the water. He hurried back, covering the distance in long strides. Ice washed over me as cold water dripped from my scalp and ran down my neck.
“I had no idea the rani was so fragile,” Vishwajeet said. “She was always portrayed as the picture of health when we negotiated the union of Banghervari and Ullal. It would seem—”
“I have tended to her since she was born, and she never had any issues with her health in Ullal,” Tara said sharply. “I don’t know what you’ve done to her while she was here, but it’s clear that right now she needs some rest. We should go back to the palace immediately.”
“You don’t give the orders here!” Vishwajeet stepped toward Tara with a raised finger.
The healer that had brought the cool cloth placed himself between Tara and Vishwajeet, towering over Vishwajeet with his broad frame. “You will respect the master healer.”
“Yes, Vishwajeet,” Aru said. “You can’t speak to our guests like that. Quick, summon the . . .”
I stopped paying attention to my husband as I recognized the voice of the other healer. I’d have known it anywhere. Anytime.
And I had not heard it in far too long.