The harried messenger bowed deeply, removed his indigo turban, and produced a folded, sealed cotton cloth. The seal wasn’t Nikith’s, but my uncle ripped the message open before I could see whose it was. Uncle Trimulya’s eyes darted across the page, and he fought to keep his face expressionless as he read. I sat patiently?—impatiently, more accurately?—and waited for the raja to speak. To my surprise, he made no announcement to the court after refolding the message and putting it aside. Instead, he dismissed everyone except me and immediately set to writing his reply.
Murmurs of confusion followed everyone out of the throne room, and I sat uncertainly in front of my uncle with only the scratches from his quill for company. Eventually, I spoke up. “What is it? Did the Porcugi attack again?”
My uncle jumped, dragging the ink across the page and ruining his letter. Rather than respond to me, he roared for more cotton, and an anxious servant ran to accommodate his demand.
The raja tapped the mysterious message as he replied to me. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
Before I could ask what the letter said, he continued, “This is for me to handle. You should see to your training and then visit the farms as planned. Our people need our reassurances?—tensions are high now that everyone knows of the Porcugi’s return. They’re afraid, and rightfully so. They should have heard it from us first, not the local gossip.”
He looked at me pointedly, and I blushed.
“I had to give Chetan something,” I mumbled.
Uncle Trimulya sighed. “I understand why you did it, but now we must face the consequences. Which means we need to show them our strength. I had hoped we could go together, but this”?—he tapped the letter again?—“will take some time, so I trust you can take care of it.”
His dismissal was clear. I would have to find another way to find out what was so important that he would miss visiting the farmers. Later. For now, I wasted no time in hurrying out to the training yard.
Rolling hills stood beyond the grounds, and Matanta’s mountain rose above them. It was impossible to see his cave from here, but I still felt drawn to it. It had been so long since my last visit?—we’d been at our capital in Puttige for years, until the news of our missing ships had brought us back to this fort. I would have to find a way to go see my old friend.
Parushi separated from a group that was running through training exercises and approached me. She fell in stride as we walked at the edge of the training grounds. We didn’t need to say anything. The two of us had trained together ever since my uncle had paired us up more than ten years ago. Since then, Parushi and I had spent countless hours together as we trained. We were well suited for each other?—neither one of us willing to lose and both of us pushing the other to be better so we could meet my uncle’s exacting standards. Everyone else, except for Thevan and Samanth, had hesitated when it came to sparring with a rajkumari, but Parushi didn’t seem to care. She was always respectful of my position, but she never held back, and she didn’t worry about putting on airs or adding unnecessary formality. I preferred it that way.
Today, her sleeveless orange tunic showed off the still-pink scar on her left arm that snaked from her shoulder to her wrist. She gestured to the open field for target practice, which was set at the far corner of the training grounds. I nodded and took one of the bows she carried. It would be a relief to be farther away from everyone?—not that anyone was staring, but everyone was trying so hard not to that their avoidance became uncomfortable.
I didn’t say anything when Parushi walked far closer to the targets than usual before stopping so we could take our shots. Parushi was an accomplished archer, but perhaps she hadn’t healed completely and still needed to take it easy. She waited expectantly, but I stepped back so she could shoot first.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she nocked an arrow, drew the bow in a fluid motion, and released her shot. It flew through the air and sank deep into the center of the target.
Parushi stepped away to give me room, watching me through narrowed eyes. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, daring me to match her shot.
I did.
She nodded in satisfaction. “Glad to see you’ve still got your head about you.”
“You were worried about me?” I asked. “You’re the one that got sliced up by those water demons. Does this mean I can move the targets to a proper distance now?”
“I can do it,” Parushi said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I waved her off and moved the targets several paces back. “You just stay there. I won’t have you saying you’re too tired to continue just because you think I’ll win.”
“I’m not going to stop until I’m certain I can take my revenge on the Porcugi.” Parushi’s face was hard, and she spoke through clenched teeth.
“Same,” I promised her. I shot the arrow at the repositioned target and smirked with satisfaction when I buried another bullseye.
I lost track of how many arrows we shot together as we steadily increased the distance to the targets in an attempt to outdo each other. Each of us applauded but also winced as the other let loose another well-aimed arrow. The clouds darkened overhead. They threw ominous shadows across the practice range, but we ignored them?—save for the hope that they might distract our opponent.
“It’s hardly fair,” I said as I went to retrieve our arrows and move the targets back some more. “You can always outsprint me. You should let me win at this.”
Parushi snorted. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have my head if I let you win.”
“Fair enough.” I smiled.
“That is the first time I have seen even a hint of a smile on your face since...” Parushi’s voice trailed off.
“If we spend all our time living in our memories, we deprive ourselves of the chance to make new ones.” I pretended to study the fletching on my arrow as my stomach clenched tight.
Ektha’s voice made me jump. “That is a very neat way of saying you’re stuffing away your feelings instead of confronting them.”
“Rajkumari.” Parushi bowed her head.
