“With all due respect, Prince Veer, I am specifically under the employ of the queen of Rajgarh, and you don’t have the authority to question my actions,” she said, bowing her head and clasping her hands together, her actions directly contradicting her words.
Shota gave a scathing laugh. “If you hadn’t been so hasty, Veer, I’d have told you it was useless to call her. She has higher illusions of authority than her current position grants her.”
Shota and Sameera abandoned all graces of civility and openly glared at each other.
“I’ll tell you this much, Prince,” said Sameera, dragging her gaze away from Shota. “Because I suspect you can learn this from other sources as well. After you left, King Chandraketu declared the princess a pariah and had her banished from the capital. Chandra’s mother took on a vow of silence in retaliation and spoke to no one for the past seven years. She and Chandra are estranged from the rest of the family. To be abandoned by a husband is the worst kind of shame a woman can invite. Chandra has carried that smear and the guilt that came with it all these years. Now how she chooses to assuage that guilt, I’llleave it to your imagination. But the situation that she is in? It is partlyyourdoing, and if you want her to come with you, I suggest you stay away from your knives and your ultimatums and try asking her…politely. Who knows, she might surprise you.”
She closed the door with a slam of finality on her way out.
“Is it just me, or do I feel like we have just been put in our place?” asked Billadev, slinging his arms across the shoulders of his two friends.
Veer noticed Shota was about as pleased as he was with Billadev’s observation.
Chapter 9: The Private Bargain
“Veer?” came the inquiry in a high, childish voice.
He shook himself up from a blank contemplation of a game of Snakes and Ladders, his thoughts far away. “It’s your turn,” said the child seated in front of him.
Veer smiled in genuine amusement. Despite all his seven years of age, which he insisted on reminding him often, Sarun’s presence here in the queen’s apothecary was unexpected, not altogether an unpleasant one for once.
He had come here to find Chandrasena’s mother, Queen Padmavathi, and to have a few words with her. He had hoped to convince the queen that he didn’t mean any harm to her daughter—a bit of a feat considering his blatant knife throw during the meeting. But he hadn’t been worried too much, confident in his powers of persuasion.
But that was before he found out that the queen was indeed under a vow of silence and refused to communicate with him by any means until her daughter was there. He had been forced to cool his heels in the dark-thatched building for hours while waiting for the return of the princess, who had gone into the garden supposedly “to fetch herbs.”
“Roll your dice…” ordered the kid, in a way that felt surprisingly familiar, until Veer realized that it matched the princess’s haughty impatience to a tee.
A checkered game cloth was spread out on the table between them. The ladders were rope, made in brown and red; the snakes were formed with threads in varying shades of green, yellow, and brown against a background of velvety blue. The snake on the penultimate square was the nine-hooded, diamond-scaled king cobra, whose jet-black eyes were so expertly embroidered with tiny black stones that it seemed to watch their every move. Veer moved his chariot token as Sarun counted aloud the squares, his eyes intent.
“Four, five, and…six. Oh no…you’re swallowed by a snake, Veer,” he said anxiously. He chewed on his lip for a moment, but then his face cleared. “Don’t worry, you can try again if you want. I’ll give you an extra turn.” The boy smiled, extending the bone-dice on his palm.
Veer couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt to sound…noble.
Sarun didn’t seem to care that he was in the company of a powerful prince. Nor did the rumors and half-truths that floated around, once again, on Veer’s return, seem to bother him. Sarun was the first person in Amaravathi who didn’t take an automatic step back on encountering him. Who didn’t look at him with superficial deference, masking the suspicion in their heart.
It was a one-off, Veer knew. Even if Sarun was a young child and the son of Chandra’s maid, he should have been aware that he was speaking to an esteemed guest of high stature.
But a few well-placed questions answered that mystery. From the way the child spoke of “Chandra,” he knew who to thank for the lack of proper address.
The pound of mortar against the pestle brought him out of his thoughts once again. Queen Padmavathi was the only other person in the apothecary, apart from him, Sarun and Billadev. He gazed around the room, mildly amazed to find himself here. With his sister’s healing skills and his own robust health,he had seldom needed to step into one of the healing houses of medicine. But Amaravathi was famous for it and Chandra’s mother had dedicated her life to her gardens and her medicinal plants.
The building was basic in design, with stucco walls and a palm-thatched roof. The walls were lined with shelves carrying exotic-looking plants in small pots. A few woven jute bags filled with fertilizer slumped against a wall. Garden implements lay piled up in another corner. Yet more plants hung in pots suspended from the ceiling by intricately woven ropes. Numerous vines crawled around the windowsills, interrupting the desultory flow of air. It made for a warm and humid interior, much like the climate in Amaravathi at this time of year.
His sister would be thrilled if she were here, thought Veer absently
Amaravathi was a land of forests, woods, dales, and abundant rivers with a tropical climate. It rained every day during the monsoon. Veer, who was more used to the arid conditions of the desert and mountains, felt like he was immersed in a steaming bath all day. He didn’t mind it so much when he had a course of action, but sitting idly made him restless.
A familiar astringent scent cut through the air, instantly relieving the tension gathering in his shoulders. It was coming from the plant that was being pounded into an ointment.
Veer took a cautious sniff. “Lemon verbena,” he said, recognizing the childhood remedy his mother used for colds.
A pleased smile lit the queen’s austere face, and Veer got a shadowy glimpse of the beauty the queen must have wielded when she was younger, before bitterness and disappointment had wiped all the happiness from her face.
The queen’s story, he had heard, was one that was touched by both joy and sorrow. A daughter of a sea-merchant familyfrom Sumedh, she had by the merest of chances, crossed paths with King Chandraketu. Captivated by her beauty, the king had married her, granting her the status of a queen. This earned her a permanent hatred from his other queens, who were outraged that a commoner had been granted a status equal to them.
Chandra’s reckless crime on the evening of their marriage gave the other queens a perfect opportunity to fill the king’s ears with poison against Chandra and her mother.
He had done some digging about his wife since Sameera’s chide and came to know that what she had told him was true.
