Chapter 3A Dead Womans Shadow
"He didn't ask."
Vinaya stood on the western balcony overlooking the sea.
Behind her, Crown Prince Kalidas said nothing.
That was how she knew she was right.
The marriage proposal remained clutched between her fingers.
Beautiful words covered expensive parchment.
Esteemed Princess Vinayakumari.
Alliance.
Mutual prosperity.
Future unity.
Character.
Education.
Not once did it say Vikram wanted her.
Vinaya turned toward her brother.
"Did he?"
Kalidas leaned against the railing.
"The proposal was issued by King Amarendra."
"That isn't what I asked."
"No."
She swallowed.
"So Vikramaditya didn't choose me."
"We don't know that."
"You are terrible at comforting people."
"I prefer not to comfort you with lies."
Despite herself, Vinaya smiled.
Then it faded.
"Why me?"
"Because Samudrapuri is powerful."
"Very romantic."
"You asked."
Vinaya looked out over the harbour.
Merchant vessels moved across the brilliant blue water.
This was the world she knew.
Salt in the air.
Gulls above the rooftops.
Her mother's garden.
Her father's impossible temper.
Abhimanyu barging into her room without knocking.
Everything familiar.
And somewhere beyond the mountains lived a man who had loved another woman so deeply that five years after her death, people still spoke of his grief.
"I remember their wedding portrait," Vinaya said.
Kalidas's expression softened.
"I do too."
"She was beautiful."
"Yes."
"Don't hesitate before denying it."
"I wasn't going to deny it."
Vinaya sighed.
"Another quality I appreciate and occasionally hate about you."
Kalidas smiled.
"Priyamvada was beautiful. That doesn't diminish you."
Vinaya picked at the edge of the parchment.
"People do not generally use the word beautiful when describing me."
"People are idiots."
"You are my brother."
"And Crown Prince. Therefore I am professionally qualified to identify idiots."
She laughed.
He nudged her shoulder.
The moment passed.
Then Vinaya whispered, "He still loves her, doesn't he?"
Kalidas didn't answer immediately.
"We cannot know what another person feels."
"People say he hasn't touched her chambers."
"I've heard that."
"Five years."
"Yes."
Vinaya looked down.
She had spent her entire life beneath other people's shadows.
She knew exactly how it felt to enter a room after Devyani and watch faces fall almost imperceptibly.
Not because anyone disliked Vinaya.
Because someone brighter had come before her.
Was she really considering building an entire marriage inside another woman's shadow?
Her mother found her that evening.
Vinaya was sitting on the floor of the library surrounded by volumes about Krishnagiri.
The Queen looked at the books.
"Research?"
"I panicked."
"Ah."
"Research is how I panic."
"I know."
Her mother sat beside her.
Vinaya held up one volume.
"Krishnagiri exports iron, timber and horses."
"Yes."
"The winters are terrible."
"So I hear."
"I dislike cold weather."
"We will send wool."
"Mother."
The Queen smiled.
Vinaya looked down at the page.
"I don't know if I should accept."
"You do not have to."
"Would Father lose the alliance?"
"Possibly."
Vinaya immediately looked up.
Her mother touched her cheek.
"That is not your burden."
"But—"
"No."
The Queen's voice strengthened.
"You are my daughter before you are Samudrapuri's princess."
Vinaya's eyes burned.
"Do you want me to marry?"
"I want you to be happy."
"That was suspiciously evasive."
Her mother sighed.
"I worried you had stopped believing happiness like that was available to you."
Vinaya froze.
The Queen continued gently.
"Every time one of your siblings married, you smiled. And every time, afterward, you became a little quieter."
"Mother—"
"You thought I didn't see."
Vinaya looked away.
"I am fine."
"I know."
That somehow made tears come faster.
Her mother's hand found hers.
"Do not marry Vikramaditya because you think a crown prince choosing you proves you are worth something."
"He didn't choose me."
The words slipped out.
Her mother went still.
Vinaya laughed softly.
"That is the problem, isn't it?"
Later, Vinaya searched for Priyamvada.
Not the woman.
The memory.
She found her in a history volume stored on the highest shelf.
A royal wedding portrait.
Vikram was twenty.
Priya eighteen.
Vinaya slowly unfolded the painted page.
Her breath caught.
Priyamvada was beautiful.
But that was not what hurt.
Vikram was looking at her.
The painter had clearly intended both bride and groom to face forward.
Priya nearly did.
Vikram didn't.
His entire attention belonged to his bride.
His expression was open.
Young.
Happy.
In love.
Vinaya stared longer than she meant to.
Something inside her whispered:
You will never be looked at like that.
She closed the book.
Then opened it again.
Perhaps because pain did not become less true simply because one refused to look.
Priya had existed.
Vikram had loved her.
Vinaya would not begin a marriage by pretending otherwise.
Her fingers touched the painted edge of Priya's veil.
"What would you think of me?" she whispered.
No answer came.
Only the smiling woman in the portrait.
And for the first time, Vinaya understood that she was not afraid of marrying a grieving man.
She was afraid of becoming the woman who came after the love of his life.