I turned to see Arjun leaning in the doorway. He looked a little forlorn, as he always did whenever Nalini had to return to her new governing seat. She wouldn’t be in Bharata for a while. After Nalini used the wish, I’d convinced Skanda—with a not entirely true tale—that it wasn’t the only power I’d brought back from my travels. That, in addition to Arjun and Nalini’s fury, was enough reason for him to abdicate the throne and name me queen.
“Need a partner?” he asked, frowning at the practice sword in my left hand.
“How hopeless do I look?”
He laughed. My heart lightened. I hadn’t heard Arjun laugh in what felt like centuries. Everything in Bharata was something to experience all over. I felt as if I I were relearning the friends that been my family. It was not unlike practicing with the sword in my hand, going through the movements that I had taken for granted. And like a new muscle, it ached.
We sparred for nearly an hour before a trumpet sounded, signaling the arrival of one of my courtiers. I dropped the practice sword and reached for the red silk glove. After that first night in Bharata, I limited the number of people who saw the glass hand. People hungered after what they didn’t know and couldn’t see, and I liked the enigma and mystery of it. My people made up their own tales, claiming that it was a mark of magic or a sign of transparency. They said that it would turn red whenever someone had a murderous thought and that when I looked into the glass palm, I could watch my citizens. I liked their stories far better than the truth.
“Your Majesty,” called the courtier. “There is a woman who is knocking on the gates of Bharata demanding to see you.”
Arjun touched his sword. “What did my men make of her? Does she seem like a threat to the Queen’s life?”
“The men thought she…” The courtier trailed off, bright spots of color lighting up his cheeks.
I smiled. I knew who was at the gate.
***
A month later, Aasha leaned out the window, propping her chin in her palms and sighing loudly. In the second month of my reign, Aasha had showed up outside the city gates demanding that I fulfill my promise of a place in my palace. In the first week of her arrival, she’d foiled two assassination attempts simply by sniffing out the thoughts of whatever nobleman or noblewoman wished to meet with me.
“Can we go outside?” she asked. “This tires me.”
Shock lit up half my attendants’ faces. Aasha was one of the few people who never simpered. She didn’t know how and didn’t care to learn. Dismissing the attendants, I joined her on the balcony. The garden had grown lush and green in the three months since I’d pulled up the courtyard by the roots and started anew. I never walked along the paths. There were too many reminders tucked into the perfume of those blossoms. When I walked through the gardens, the reminder that something—someone—was missing from my life was impossible to ignore. I thought I saw him in every lean shadow splayed across the ground. I thought I heard him in every laughing fountain. When I came back to Bharata, it had been easier to push aside the ache of missing him, because I dedicated every moment to the restructuring of Bharata. But now I had settled into a rhythm. Every day looked a little more normal. I was even getting better at sparring with my left arm. Which meant there were too many moments where the absence of him gnawed at my heart.
“I know you’re tired, but no, we can’t go outside,” I said. “I have papers to review.”
Aasha frowned. “But you want to go outside.”
Groaning, I covered my head with my hands, as if that would somehow stop my wants from betraying me.
“You also want to see him.”
“Go away.”
She leaned a little closer, sniffing me. “And you want food. Why do you always want food?”
“Please stop.”
“Why don’t you see him?”
“Because I’m busy!” I said, flicking a dead insect off the windowpane.
Aasha raised an eyebrow. “Lie.”
“I will. Soon. I think,” I hedged. “He never sent back a present after I gave him that crown.”
Folding her arms, Aasha stared at me as if I had just announced that I was handing over the throne and taking up a new career in professional flicking-dead-insects-off-windowpanes.
“What is the word you taught me yesterday when I bit the rose that stung me?”
Yesterday, a handsome nobleman had left a scarlet rose for Aasha. She’d picked it up only for one of the thorns to prick her thumb. Growling, Aasha had bit the head off the rose. The nobleman ran in the other direction.
I sighed. “The word was ‘petty.’”
“Ah. Yes. That is you.”
What if the past two months of ruling had changed him and he was just happy with the gradual unthawing of the diplomatic relations and nothing else? Wouldn’t he have sent some sign? Then again, I did say to stay away… but why would he stay away forthatlong? Wasn’t the wooden crown a clear indication that I wanted to see him? I hated boys.
