Chapter 4-The Woman in the Portrait
Krishnagiri had no sea.
Vinaya noticed its absence immediately.
She had never realized how accustomed she was to the horizon.
In Samudrapuri, the world opened endlessly.
In Krishnagiri, mountains rose on every side.
Beautiful.
Imposing.
Impossible to ignore.
A little like the man she had come to marry.
Vinaya pressed her fingertips to the carriage window.
"There."
Her mother pointed.
Krishnagiri Palace rose above the valley.
Vinaya stopped breathing.
Stone walls climbed the mountain itself, layered with terraces, towers and golden-roofed pavilions. Waterfalls cut silver lines through the distant cliffs.
Banners streamed from the gates.
Her stomach turned.
"This was a terrible idea."
Her mother smiled.
"You may still order the procession around."
"There are hundreds of people behind us."
"Your father would turn around a thousand."
Vinaya believed her.
That helped.
A little.
King Amarendra welcomed her personally.
Queen Lakshmidevi embraced her before Vinaya had quite finished bowing.
"None of that," the Queen said.
Vinaya blinked.
"Your Majesty?"
"You'll exhaust yourself bowing to everyone in this family."
Behind her, Prince Balram whispered, "She means herself. Mother enjoys being dramatic."
Lakshmidevi turned.
"I heard that."
"Of course you did."
Vinaya laughed before she could stop herself.
Balram grinned.
"Excellent. One of us likes me."
Ranveer greeted her more formally but warmly.
Parvati took Vinaya's hands.
Kalyani smiled shyly.
The welcome was so genuine that for several minutes Vinaya almost forgot whom she had come to marry.
Then she noticed his absence.
Lakshmidevi noticed her noticing.
"Vikram was delayed."
"Oh."
"Council business."
"Of course."
Vinaya smiled.
She was becoming very good at smiling when disappointed.
Her assigned apartments were beautiful.
They were also unmistakably guest rooms.
Vinaya walked through them slowly.
Parvati followed.
"You hate them."
"No! They're lovely."
"You hesitated."
"I was wondering..."
Vinaya stopped.
"Where are the Crown Princess's chambers?"
Parvati's face changed.
There.
That was the answer.
"Vinaya..."
"They belonged to Priyamvada."
"Yes."
"And now?"
"They are closed."
Vinaya looked toward the corridor.
"Still?"
"Yes."
"Vikram keeps them that way?"
Parvati swallowed.
"Yes."
Vinaya nodded.
She tried not to let the answer hurt.
She had known.
Knowing and seeing were different things.
Later that afternoon, Vinaya became lost.
Hopelessly.
Krishnagiri Palace seemed to contain six corridors for every sensible destination.
After making three wrong turns, she entered a long gallery lined with royal portraits.
And stopped.
There she was.
Priya.
Not in a small book.
Not in a miniature.
Larger than life.
Priyamvada stood beneath flowering jasmine beside Vikram.
He was older than in their wedding portrait.
Perhaps twenty-one.
Priya's hand rested against his chest.
And Vikram—
Again.
He was looking at her.
Vinaya stepped closer.
She could see why people remembered Priya.
There was life in her painted face.
Warmth.
Confidence.
A kind of effortless brightness Vinaya had spent her entire life watching in other women.
She looked at herself reflected faintly in the glass covering the portrait.
Quiet eyes.
Soft features.
A little too round in places fashionable women were expected to be narrow.
Ordinary.
"Stop."
Vinaya whispered the command to herself.
She would not do this.
She would not stand before a dead woman and resent her beauty.
"You were loved," Vinaya murmured instead.
Something sad entered her voice.
"I hope you knew how much."
"You are lost."
The male voice behind her made her turn.
Her heart stopped.
Vikram stood at the entrance to the gallery.
She knew him immediately.
The portrait had softened him.
The real man was harder.
Broader.
Older.
A faint scar crossed one eyebrow.
His dark eyes held none of the laughter preserved in the painting.
Vinaya forgot every greeting she had rehearsed.
"Your Highness."
He bowed.
"Princess Vinayakumari."
His eyes passed over her.
Not lingering.
Not admiring.
Merely confirming that she was the woman expected to be there.
Then his gaze moved past her.
To Priya.
And suddenly the coldness vanished.
Pain crossed his face with such naked intensity that Vinaya felt she had accidentally witnessed something private.
Vikram walked toward the portrait.
He barely looked at his future bride again.
And standing beside the painted beauty he had once loved, Vinaya understood something with terrible clarity.
She had arrived in Krishnagiri.
But Vikram was still living five years in the past.