Chapter 47
Thevan waited for me a few steps beyond the tree line. He stood in a shaft of moonlight with one hand hidden behind his back and an empty sheath at his waist.
My breath caught at the sight of him. There he was, waiting for me and ready to take on the Spirits themselves to defend me if needed.
“Very subtle.” I tried to keep my voice light as I approached.
“I didn’t know if there would be time for subtlety.” He sheathed his blade and picked up a knotted, bulging cloth from near his feet. “I collected these for you. Gave me something to do while I waited.”
“Thank you.” I took the sack from him. The scent of paarijaata was so strong I didn’t need to open the knot to know what was inside.
Thevan’s brows were wrinkled as he squinted at me through the darkness, searching for any sign of distress.
“I’m unharmed,” I promised him, staring into the stars reflected in his eyes. “But we need to go home quickly. There is much to do.”
We made our way down the mountain and into the forest. Through the canopy of the trees, I could see slices of the sky, and they gradually brightened from black to gray to purple. We walked in silence until I finally said, “You haven’t asked me what the Spirits said.”
“If it’s for me to know, you’ll tell me whether I ask or not,” he replied.
I held back a smile as I showed Thevan the turmeric root, but it was barely a shadow in the darkness. “As soon as we reach the fort, I want all our soldiers to start coating their arrows with turmeric.”
“As a paste on the shaft?” Thevan asked.
“Whatever allows us to deliver the most turmeric with each shot. It’s the Porcugi’s weakness.”
“I’ll get to work as soon as we return to the fort. But we need to find a place to rest first. You had Trimuladevi less than a moon ago, and you haven’t slept.”
A part of me railed against the thought that I needed any accommodation, but I couldn’t deny that I was tired and sore. “There is a river nearby. We can rest there after getting something to drink. Not for too long, though.”
We cut through the forest and toward the river.
Thevan’s eyes never rested; they darted through our surroundings for any sign of a threat.
He didn’t admire the way the leaves of the mango trees went from black to gray to green as the sun began to rise.
He never noticed the nest of black crested bulbuls high up on the branches as they stretched their yellow wings and tended to their young.
He definitely noticed the tiger sleeping on a nearby tree and made sure to walk between it and me, but I doubted he saw the pink blossom tucked between its toes.
Perhaps that was for the best, though, because while I was reveling in the glories of nature, Thevan had the wherewithal to pull me behind a tree.
He pressed a finger over his lips. I snapped back to attention and followed his line of sight, down a slope and toward the valley where a small rocky river ran through the trees.
A makeshift camp sat farther downriver, and voices floated toward us as people awoke and relieved the overnight guards.
A few horses whickered as they were fed, and one person stirred a pot hanging over the fire.
I counted six white tents along the riverbed, each with enough space for two people—three if they squeezed tight.
Every single one of them bore the crest of Banghervari.
“Hurry up!” The deep, resonant voice cut through the air of the forest as easily as it had the palace, and it still made me wince.
“We’re leaving! I’d hoped we could find her here and take her back without a scene at the fort, but perhaps my source was wrong.
If the rani is in Ullal, we’ll go there! ”
Soldiers jumped at Vishwajeet’s command, disassembling their tents and extinguishing the fires.
“Nikith,” I whispered. He’d known of my plans to visit Matanta after Devi’s birth and must have told Vishwajeet before he was discovered.
I turned to Thevan. “There’s too many of them for us to fight off.
They’re here for me, so I’ll go to them and figure out a way to come back home. But you need to go back to the fort.”
“I won’t leave your side.” Thevan kept his eyes on the camp. I saw his lips moving as he silently counted the people there. Thirteen. “We’ll both go back.”
“They have horses and a proper night’s rest. They’ll beat us to the fort, assuming they don’t catch us on the way. I can’t win this race, and I will not be shamed in my own home. Best to confront them here and now to find out what they want.”
Thevan set his jaw. “If you must confront them, I’ll go with you.”
I handed him the turmeric root. “Our soldiers need this more than I need you.”
Thevan wouldn’t leave. He began to count the people below us again, so I turned his head until he faced me. I resisted the urge to cup his cheek or smooth his worried brow.
“Vishwajeet is there,” I reminded him. “He’ll recognize you and see that you’re not a healer. That would create more problems than I can solve, and I . . .”
My voice trailed off as my throat became hot and tight, and I couldn’t speak the words at first. I swallowed and tried to stop my fingers from trembling against his stubbled chin. “I cannot lose you. Go. I command it. I’ll find my own way back to Ullal.”
Thevan would not disobey a direct order. He snatched my hand and held it. Tight. “Come back home as soon as you can.”
We were so close. Our bodies called to one another, pulling us together until the fabric of his kurta brushed against my thighs. The air between us crackled and sparked while the rest of the world went still.
His eyes found mine, and he pulled my hand toward his lips. “Come back to me.”
He kissed my fingertips, and I froze, except for my racing pulse, which thudded through me so loudly it felt like it should echo through the trees.
His lips were soft—I’d never known they were so soft—but the desire behind them was anything but.
It was filled with a fire that sent a jolt from my hand to my heart.
I didn’t want him to kiss my hand.
I snatched it away and closed the distance between us, drawing his face toward mine.
His eyes snapped open in surprise, but he hesitated for only a moment before he drew me in and claimed my lips as his own.
One hand buried in my curls, pulling me closer, and another wrapped around my body as it held his contours against mine.
I could taste his longing as he enveloped me, and we tried to slake the thirst we’d denied for so long.
“Get a move on!” Vishwajeet’s voice cracked through the woods and tore us apart.
I stared at Thevan, breathing hard. He looked back down to the riverbed before pulling me in for one last, fierce kiss.
“Come back to me.”
He left without looking back.
Pins pricked me all over my neck, and every part of me longed to call him back, but I had to let him go. I silently begged the Spirits to keep him safe, even though I had no doubt he would make it past the Banghervari lookouts. One way or another.
When the sky was bright with sunlight and the Banghervari guards were finishing up their packing, it was time for me to play my part.
I stood and stomped my way toward the river, holding my head high.
I swept through the brush and into the open area as if I were entering a throne room in one of my glittering saris instead of my mud-soaked gray salwar kameez.
“Halt!” one of the guards called out, and she rushed toward me with a sword drawn.
“Put that down.” I kept my voice as cool as the breeze that wove itself through the trees. The camp fell silent as people turned to us. “How dare you brandish your weapon at your rani.”
“Rani!” The woman stumbled to a halt and bowed deeply, and the others did the same. “Where is your guard?”
“They’re waiting for me at the edge of the forest.” I raised the sack that Thevan had given me. “I came to collect the sacred paarijaata blossoms, and the Spirits do not take kindly to too many visitors.”
A few of the guards began to murmur prayers at the mention of the flowers.
Vishwajeet stepped toward me and smiled with too many teeth as he said, “So happy to find you, Rani. Your husband has summoned you back home.”
“I am afraid I cannot go.” I smiled back just as widely. “I am still recovering from the birth of our daughter, whom I need to return to.”
“No doubt the rajkumari has a gaggle of wet nurses vying for more time with her.” Vishwajeet gestured to the horses behind him.
“The raja was quite specific with his commands, and each of these guards knows them all too well. I must insist that you come with us. If you ride just a little way, we can take you to the chariot we brought.”
I eyed the guards, and they glared back with stiff, emotionless faces.
Vishwajeet must have fed them some poison about me and undermined my position as the raja’s wife.
They were due for a reminder. “My husband does not need to send people with swords to bring me home. He need only have written, and I would have come.”
My words hung in the air as the guards’ shoulders deflated, and they stared at the ground. Vishwajeet said nothing, but his smile dimmed.
“I am happy to go back to my husband as long as you provide me with hot water so I can make the tea I need from these blossoms.” I climbed to the horse Vishwajeet had gestured to and mounted it, leaving him on the ground and looking up at me. “Lead the way.”
The journey to Banghervari swished past me as I sat in the simple chariot that met us after we crossed the river.
Vishwajeet had probably brought one with little decoration and only a thin cushion as an insult, but I was far more comfortable in something like this than the ornate chariots that Lakshmappa preferred.
I slept almost all day and awoke as dusk fell.
A chill nipped at my fingertips and toes, and my stomach growled in protest of its hollow state.
I picked up the cloth covering the food that had been left for me while I slept, and I was happy to see a few neatly stacked akki roti with a mound of mango pickle on top.
As I ate the now cold flatbread, I tried to organize my thoughts.
I needed to get back to Ullal. Fast. My daughter was waiting for me there, and while I was sure the wet nurses would watch over her and Parushi would keep her safe, none of them could take care of her as I could.
Not to mention the fact that the Porcugi could attack at any moment.
But Lakshmappa would not let me leave without protest. He must have summoned me back for a reason, and Vishwajeet was almost certainly behind it. No doubt that snake of a man would try to convince Lakshmappa I should agree to pay the tithe to the Porcugi before I was allowed to leave.
Which I would never do.
So, I needed to find a way to make Lakshmappa think we were on the same side.
Then I could tell him I needed to go back to our daughter.
No, invoking Devi’s name would probably just inspire him to summon her to Banghervari, and then my hands would be tied.
I’d be stuck there as long as my daughter was.
I couldn’t leave her side, especially knowing what Vishwajeet had planned for her.
Somehow, I needed to convince the raja we were in agreement without acquiescing to peace with the Porcugi .
. . and before he could command our daughter be brought to Banghervari.
I could almost hear Parushi saying, “Back to setting realistic marital goals.”
My stomach growled again. The roti lay in my lap with only a few bites missing, neglected as I lost myself in thought.
I sighed and ate some more, stretching my shoulders as I chewed.
I watched the landscape slipping by. Bleak shadows loomed but never lingered as we rolled on, and the horses made their way confidently in the dark.
The pop of a raindrop on the roof of my chariot announced the incoming rainfall, and soon every one of the horses’ footsteps was accompanied by a splash.
The guards muttered their annoyance, cursing sometimes as the water splattered, but I was comforted by the sound of the rain.
Of course, I wasn’t riding in it.
Something bright flashed between the trees. None of the riders said anything—they kept their focus straight ahead, toward their destination. I squinted and stared at the tree trunks that ran by, but the black shadows kept passing without any trace of what I thought I saw.
Just as I convinced myself that I’d imagined it, a green flash wove through the trunks, toward the chariot.
Another followed closely behind, and more faint lights shone deeper in the trees.
All of them kept pace with the chariot, unflinching as the rain poured down and dropped through the coverage of the leaves.
“Thank you, my friends,” I whispered to the adaiman.
My heartbeat calmed as I leaned away from the window and back into my seat.
Raindrops pinged and popped against the top of my chariot in a rhythm that entwined with the rolling wheels and horses’ hoofbeats.
The air began to taste of the forest as the rain unlocked all its scents.
I inhaled deeply and let my eyelashes cling to each other.
I was lonely, but I was not alone.