Sima’s first shot had missed. Benevolently, Raziya allowed her to try again and this time there was some mild applause as Sima’s arrow took a glancing blow off the fish’s torso.
“No, Elder Priya,” Deepa said, when the clapping had faded. “Only—it is different. Interesting. To hear someone speak as you do. I will grow used to it, I am sure. You will need to be patient with me.”
“Sahar,” Raziya called, and one of the Dwarali women walked forward. “What do you think?” Lady Raziya asked. “She has some talent, doesn’t she?”
“Mm,” Sahar said, which was not exactly agreement. She gave Sima a critical look. “Have you used a bow in battle before?”
“Yes,” Sima said steadily.
“Have you injured anyone?”
“I killed a man.”
“Did he walk into your arrow?”
“Don’t insult me,” Sima said, but she was smiling. “I’m notthatbad.”
“No, not so bad,” Sahar agreed. She turned to Lady Raziya. “My lady,” she said. “I’m happy to give our guest a lesson, if that is your will.” She looked in Priya’s direction and said, a glimmer of amusement in her voice, “You’re welcome to join in too, Lady Deepa.”
Deepa squeaked out a refusal that sounded almost likeI’d accidentally shoot myself in the foot. Priya bit back a laugh and watched the archery lesson begin.
“Your advisor has some skill,” Lady Raziya observed, approaching Priya once Sima had departed. “But she is still—raw. Not yet fully trained. I think, perhaps, the bow is a new skill to her.”
“We’ve all had to learn new skills in Ahiranya.”
“I imagine so,” Lady Raziya said. “When you are a people who serve another people, your options are narrowed. You are never quite given the tools to rise. And when you do rise, why—it is hard to build a palace from subpar stone, with the help of half-trained masons.”
“As you say,” Priya murmured.
“But perhaps you are building something quite different.” A pause, as Raziya looked her over, her gaze thoughtful. “I will see your skill one day, Elder Priya. I look forward to it.”
Before Priya could respond—and spirits knew what she would have said to that—she heard a yell from somewhere beyond the practice yard. It sounded like Sima’s voice.
Without another thought, she turned and ran.
There was Sima, surrounded by a ring of Saketan soldiers. One was holding a sword whip out to her by the hilt. Sima was grim-faced, refusing to take it. As Priya strode closer, she began to hear what the man was saying to her.
“… fight a Dwarali, but you won’t test your skills against us?”
So they’d been watching, then.
“I don’t know the sword whip,” Sima said steadily. “You want to test your arrows against me, fine. We’ll see who wins.”
“I saw youlose.”
“I was no match for Lady Raziya,” said Sima, in the tone she used on all the guards at the mahal in Hiranaprastha, when they irritated her. “But I think I can take you.”
The soldier grabbed Sima by the wrist.
In that instant, the fight was inevitable.
Bhumika no doubt would have disagreed. Priya could practically hear her sister’s exasperated voice in her head.Of course the Parijatdvipans want conflict, Priya. But you don’t have to give it to them.
The man was muttering something, too low and viperous for Priya to make out the words.
“My lord,” Sima was saying, voice firm and loud enough to carry. “Please control yourself. This is not an appropriate way to talk about my mistressormy people.”
“Our land’s cursed by your blight,” the soldier was ranting. “And you want me to be polite? No, the others may be too cowardly to say anything, but we don’t want you here. You Ahiranyi, you ruin everything you touch.”
