Once I was back in my room, my maids helped dress me in more formal attire so I could walk among my people and speak to them, whether it be at the port, the training grounds, or a nearby town. I listened to all that they said and gratefully accepted their gifts with my own two hands before returning to the fort for lunch with Nallini, Tara, and Parushi. The three of them made sure I had a feel for the pulse of our fort as we ate. Parushi and Nallini often needled each other, while Tara, ever the matron, kept them in line.
After my midday meal, I’d write a letter to Aru, telling him how much I had improved thanks to the paarijaata blossoms. I’d said that I needed to keep taking the tonic regularly so that he wouldn’t bother me too much about returning to Banghervari, but I always made sure to add a few lines about how much I missed him. Thankfully, Aru accepted my lies. His replies were filled with flowery phrases of longing, and he promised me that he’d visit when our son was born.
Once that was done, I would go to the throne room, where I’d receive reports on a variety of subjects, from commerce to education to health. Nikith and Thevan were often at my side, and the three of us would confer about strategy while we ate dinner and usually long after that.
Parushi laughed whenever I called it a discussion. According to her, “a brawl was a brawl, whether fists were thrown or not.”
As I watched my general and brother-in-law stare each other down, I was inclined to agree.
“Two more ships! Gone!” Nikith’s voice echoed around the empty throne room. He and Thevan stood in front of the dais, one on either side of me as I sat on the throne. “The Porcugi are punishing us for not paying the tithes even though the raja promised we would. We’ve lost so many goods and people to these attacks. The sailors are afraid! Their families beg them not to go before their ships set sail. We should pay the tithe and be done with it.”
“I know sailors who are proud to sail for Ullal.” Thevan’s back was stiff, and he growled his words through clenched teeth. “Perhaps you should spend less time conversing with cowards.”
“They fear a deadly enemy. That does not make them cowards.” Nikith’s kurta hung too loosely off his thin frame, making him look like a young boy who had raided his father’s trunk. Except for his face. His face was more tired and haggard every day.
Thevan crossed his arms, making himself a wall. “My soldiers have been practicing with the coconut torches and are unafraid to use them. We call them fire arrows because we can throw them from a distance and still pierce through the Porcugi’s skin. Why should we surrender when we finally have an effective weapon against those monsters?”
“Your fire arrows cannot kill them all!” Nikith’s bloodshot eyes were framed by dark circles. “They’re still more powerful than we can ever hope to be. Even with the turmeric paste, our people are left broken and dying in the infirmary. Or have you so easily forgotten their cries after our last battles?”
Thevan closed the distance between him and Nikith in two strides. He stopped when his chin was a hand’s width from Nikith’s face, and he glowered down at him, nostrils flaring. “I will never forget. But I know that some things are worth fighting?—and dying?—for.”
Nikith threw his hands up at Thevan and turned to me. I tried to ignore the judgmental stares of the animals carved into the throne room’s columns as I searched for the right words. I placed a hand on my now large bump as I thought. My little one kicked and rolled insistently now that it was evening and I was sitting still.
“Rani, please see reason,” Nikith pleaded. “A soldier will always turn to his blade to answer his problems, but you must use every tool at your disposal to rule. Diplomacy is one of those tools. Our people should feel safe. Our traders should be able to leave our ports without fear of what’s lurking in the waters. A tithe is a small price to pay.”
I tried to make him understand why he asked the impossible. “Diplomacy was an option for them too. They could have come and asked to trade, but instead they chose war.Theyattackedus. Our only choice is to fight back. We have the fire arrows, and Nallini has taught the healers how to make her turmeric paste. We’re better equipped than we ever were before, and they know it. How can you ask me to make peace now? How can you ask me to pay the monsters who killed my sister?—your wife?”
My brother-in-law inhaled sharply and looked at the floor. His words scratched his throat as they came out. “It is because I know the pain of loss all too well that I ask you to do this. How many people must we lose before it’s worth it to pay the tithe?”
It was the same question Vishwajeet had asked me. And I still didn’t have an answer.
“I will think about it,” I said with a sigh, rubbing my bump.
Thevan’s head snapped toward me. “I beg the rani to reconsider?—”
I cut him off with a raised hand. “I have heard both of you. Now it is time for me to decide the best path for Ullal.”
With that, I stood up to leave. I wobbled for a moment but refused any help, and descended from the dais, ending the discussion before either could speak again.
“You cannot possibly be giving the tithes a second thought.” Thevan’s eyes were as clouded as the gray mists of morning the next day.
I cupped my bowl of sweet pongal so its heat filled my fingers as the scents of the cardamom and cloves warmed me within. “I think what you meant to say was ‘Good morning.’ To which I would reply, ‘Good morning, my friend.’”
“Your friend.” He snorted. “I am not here as your friend.”
“My most trusted general,” I said, correcting myself.
He looked no less troubled. “Rani, be serious. Are you considering paying the tithe?”
A small shake of my head chased some of the worry off his face, and his eyebrows centered themselves over his eyes again.
“Then it is a good morning,” he said. He lifted my tambura with one hand and offered me his other arm.
My back had been spasming all morning, so I took more time than usual as we made our way through the garden and walked toward the stepwell. Thevan made sure to match my pace, never hurrying ahead of me and often pausing as if he had no greater desire than to admire the view of the flowers he couldn’t name and the trees he had ignored every other time we’d visited. I found myself leaning on his arm more and more, but he didn’t complain. If anything, he pulled closer, and my shoulder was soon leaning against his. He kept me steady as we walked, and his warmth helped to rebuff the chill in the morning air. My hand and arm went cold when he withdrew to open the stepwell’s door.
Descending the stairs had become increasingly difficult as my belly grew, and today my back screamed as I took the first step. Thankfully, Thevan had been supporting me, and he held me up until the pain passed and I could continue to make my way down.
“These stairs get steeper every day,” I said.
