I knew my father in his voice, in his words. The moment he spoke, all of the previous strangeness was forgotten. My father was not known for a pleasing, diplomatic tone. His voice had the gravelly lurch of a thunderclap and all the solemnity of sleep, but the sound clung to me in well-worn familiarity. It lulled me into safety and for a moment, I thought he would say that his meeting with the courtiers had been a sham, that he had no intention of marrying me off to strangers, that I would stay here forever. This was no heaven, but it was the hell that I knew, and I preferred it far more than whatever beast of a country awaited me.
All of that half-hope slipped away with his next words.
“In the manner of the old kings, we are holding aswayamvarafor you,” he said. “You will get the chance to choose your own husband, Mayavati.”
His voice filled the courtyard. Cold sweat turned my palms clammy and my practiced calm fell away. My mind scrambled for an escape, but everything felt too close, too slippery and, worst of all, hopelessly out of reach.
He stared at me expectantly.
“Yes, Father,” I forced out.
I grimaced, sure he must have heard the curt edge to my speech. I thought he would scold me, but instead he lifted my chin.
“You’re the only one I trust to make the correct judgment.”
I wanted to yank away from his hold and hide the sudden glistening in my eyes, but his grip was firm, his eyes knowing. He released my chin and sat on a marble bench beneath the tart lime tree. He moved to one side, beckoning for me to join him, but I remained standing. Sitting was agreement to a forced marriage. And I didn’t agree.
“The moment you could climb, you were always in the sanctum’s rafters,” he said in one breath. My head snapped up. There was no accusation in his voice, only something wistful… and warm. I glanced into his face, but nothing but pain and age marked his features.
“How—”
“It is difficult not to notice tutors fleeing the archival room every week,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “But I never stopped you because I wanted you to know. I wanted you to see how fraught ruling is.” He stopped and his chest heaved, shoulders dropping a fraction. “Perhaps I hoped that by letting you see, you might forgive what I must take from you.”
I stared at him. This was the longest time we had spent in each other’s company. Until now, I only officially saw my father once a year on my annual Age Day. There were times when he had even left me gifts. Not that I was alone in this regard. My half-sisters also received small presents—clusters of gems or fashionable silks. But my presents had always been different. Fragrant sheaves of poetry or treaties of Vedic law. Valuable. I had entertained the hope that he wished to spare me from the stifling fate of my wedded half-sisters, but in the end I was no different.
He rose to his feet and placed a hand on my shoulder. It felt leaden against my skin.
“Even a favored daughter is still just a daughter.”
I suppressed a flinch. The warmth of his voice had disappeared, replaced with the cool monotone I knew far better.
“You have always possessed the intellect of a boy, Mayavati,” he said. “Should you have the good fortune of a different sex in your next life, you might prove to be a fine ruler.”
A semicircle of the scarlet palace guards fanned out around the Raja and, without another word, he left. Despite the evening’s warmth, I shivered. His words clung to me. Each sentence was its own barb from which there was no escape.
For the second time today, I found myself in a place without realizing how I got there. I stepped into the harem and a flurry of sounds swelled around me.
“What did the Raja want with you?”
I masked a groan. All my guilt for the young guardsman vanished. Loose tongue. Maybe I should have scared him more.
My half-sister Parvati stepped forward, and her jade green eyes flashed with all the latent menace of someone too beautiful and too bored.
“Are you going to be a royaldevadasi?” she asked. “No one thought you’d marry, anyway.”
I choked back a laugh. I would have far preferred to become adevadasiand live my life dedicated to the temple rather than fade into obscurity.
“Is it true that the Raja has denounced you?” asked one of the wives.
I turned to face the wife who had spoken. She was new, or at least I had not seen her before. A pair of buckteeth peeked out beneath thin lips. I doubted my father had wed her for her beauty or out of romantic interest. I wondered if the wife was like me, a bride of political convenience. She stared back at me, first curious and then embarrassed.
“I am to marry,” I said to the room.
Shrieks erupted throughout the harem.
“Who?” asked Jaya. “A monster to match your horoscope?”
“Are you sure the Raja was not lying to spare your feelings?” pressed another.
