Priya did not touch her, but she kept her hand near Malini’s own. She kept her eyes on Malini. Steady and sure.
“I’ve told you many a time, my lady,” said Priya. “I’m only a maidservant. You don’t need to even think of apologizing to me.”
“But I do think of it, Priya,” said Malini. “That’s all.”
Pramila came to visit her during the day. Malini only knew it because she woke warm from the heat of the midday sun, and because Priya’s voice had startled her out of her slumber, lifting her from the deep pool of drugged sleep to the shallows of almost wakefulness, where the room tipped lazily around her but she could stillthink. Still hear, as Pramila settled herself on the edge of the charpoy with a creak of wood.
“She’s resting, my lady,” Priya was saying. Malini kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady. “I can try to wake her if you wish, but she sleeps soundly.”
Pramila made a noise of acknowledgment. Cleared her throat.
“Your face,” Pramila said. “Does it pain you?”
There was a pause.
“No, my lady,” Priya replied.
“I should not have hit you,” Pramila said stiffly. “I have never beaten any of my maids before. It is beneath me. But here, in this place…” She drummed her fingers upon something solid. The Book of Mothers, perhaps. “The princess makes me forget myself.”
Malini would not open her eyes. She would not. It was enough to hear their voices.
“You think you love her a little, perhaps,” Pramila continued. “She is a dazzling mistress, for one as lowly and uncouth as you. But she uses everyone, girl. Even me. Why do you think I keep the guards away from her? It’s more than piety alone. They’d be taken in by her pretty face and sweet words. She’s a manipulative child. No matter what she says, remember you’re no more than dirt beneath her feet. Remember that the next time she asks you for a small favor.” Her voice lowered. “Remember that, the next time she provokes my ire.”
“Ma’am. I do not admire her,” Priya said, voice halting. “I only—I need to keep this position, ma’am. I have people to care for, who are reliant on me. I cannot lose my standing or my income.”
“Despite what the princess may say to you, I am the one who decides if you remain or not,” Pramila said, an approving note in her voice. “You’ve been a good worker, apart from one unfortunate lapse. You need not fear anything as long as you remember who it is more… prudent… to obey.”
“Oh, thank you,” Priya said. “Thank you so much, Lady Pramila.”
Malini heard the sound of Priya’s footsteps against the floor, drawing closer.
“Please allow me to help you more, Lady Pramila. May I… I could light incense in your study in the evenings, to sweeten the air. Or, I could make your favorite meals, if we have the ingredients? And I could—I could give the princess her medicine. I already take her the evening meal, after all. It would be no trouble to also give her wine too, before she sleeps.” Priya paused. Then she added, “She trusts me. She won’t fuss.”
There was a moment of silence. Pramila shifted; the silk of her sari rustled around her.
“Despite what you may believe, and what is sensible, I love the princess,” Pramila said haltingly, as if the words were being pried out of her. In a way, they were. Her voice wobbled. “I love her enough to want what is best for her, even if she doesn’t.”
“Then let me take this burden from you,” Priya said. “Please.”
“Fine,” she said. “As long as you remember who you are loyal to.”
“Of course, ma’am. Anything to be of use,” Priya said earnestly.
Malini opened her eyes, just a little. In the thin crescent of her vision, she saw Priya—face wide-eyed and guileless, hand outstretched—and Pramila placing the vial of needle-flower in her palm.
Dusk fell. Pramila returned to lecture Malini about the mothers. Malini half listened as she watched the door, wondering what Priya was doing. Pouring a dose of needle-flower obediently into Malini’s wine? Or perhaps tipping the whole bottle in, so that Malini would die swift and painless?
Unlikely. But she imagined it all the same.
Priya offered Pramila a bow and entered the room. As Pramila rose to leave, Priya spoke.
“Lady Pramila has given me the task of providing your medicine,” Priya said to Malini. Then she gave Pramila a sidelong look, as if seeking approval. Pramila nodded, and Priya kneeled down, holding the carafe between her palms.
Malini stared at it. Then she looked at Priya.
“I know something of medicine made of needle-flowers,” Priya said, voice quiet. Pramila, hovering by the door, was unlikely to have heard her.
There was a message, in those brown eyes, in the way she held out the wine as if it were a gift instead of poison; as if it were something precious cupped between her palms.
