“You never do that for me!” I protested.
Parushi rolled her eyes but had the courtesy to stay quiet.
“Are we all supposed to pretend you didn’t force her to stop?” Ektha’s white bangles jangled as she crossed her arms. Her sari was the color of freshly bloomed peacock flowers, and her cheeks had begun to take on some of the bright pink of her clothes. “I know you have no fondness for games, so I’ll be blunt. We need to talk. And you need to answer my questions.”
Parushi cleared her throat. “Perhaps I should?—”
“You’re fine,” I snapped.
Ektha didn’t even spare Parushi a glance as she continued to stare at me. I kept my mouth shut. If she wanted answers, she’d need to ask her questions first.
“Abbakka.” She stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not here to fight with you. Spirits know that I’d shake sense into you if I could, but I just... need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” I could hear the hollowness of my lie?—the space where my heart should be?—but I said nothing more.
“Look at me.” Ektha spoke like an undercurrent, quiet and inescapable.
I glanced up and saw the worry in her eyes and the furrow of her brow.
“We have work to do.” I looked out to the ocean but quickly turned toward the fields. Now was not the time to wonder where Samanth’s ashes had floated. Or if my bracelet had found them.
I cleared my throat. “We have work to do. And I am strong enough to do it.”
“You need to stop.” Ektha held both my shoulders and tipped her head to look up at me. “You need to give yourself time to?—”
“I’ll stop when the work is done.”
“There will always be more work!”
“Exactly.” I broke free of her grip and looked toward the fort. “We need to protect our people. Protect Ullal. And I will not forsake my duty.”
“Your duty,” she whispered. “I wonder how far you will go for your precious duty. I know you don’t want to, but we need to speak. Abbakka, it’s important.”
I smiled widely, each tooth adding to the high wall that defended my lies. “I’m fine. Really. I need to go inspect the fields. Ah, look, they’ve brought Maraan just in time.”
Behind Ektha and Parushi, a hostler approached with my favorite black horse. Maraan nuzzled Parushi as he passed, and she managed to procure a small cucumber from her pockets. He happily munched it and was still chewing as he came to me.
The hostler handed me Maraan’s reins. “The raja commanded that I bring you your horse so you can visit the nearby farmers.”
I thanked him and, before Ektha could object, mounted Maraan and left. I knew she wouldn’t call out to me. A rajkumari through and through, Ektha would never raise her voice. My self-satisfied smirk faltered for a moment when I remembered that I’d abandoned Parushi, but I brushed it off. Parushi was a trained soldier. She could handle whatever Ektha had to say.
I didn’t have to turn around to know my sister stood behind me with her arms crossed, her tongue silenced by all the words that remained unsaid. She’d have to find somewhere else to direct all the energy she’d built up.
Perhaps I owed Parushi a new set of arrows.
Chapter 6
Sitting atop Maraan, I made my way steadily through the landscape painted in Ullal’s prosperity as I visited the farmers nearby. They were relieved to hear my reassurances about the raja’s health and his determination to defeat the Porcugi, and many were eager to flaunt the fruits of their labor. They summoned for chai and insisted that we sip as we surveyed their fields. The first was filled with fragrant purple fruits hanging from cinnamon trees whose bark would soon be harvested. In another, ginger plants with yellow and red flowers nodded and bowed in the ever-cooler winds. Others were filled with clusters of green cardamom stalks, tufted red clove flowers, and dangling strings of peppercorns just starting to ripen.
As grateful as I was for the help and hospitality of everyone I visited, it was a relief for both my mind and my stomach when the farmer cultivating the turmeric fields confessed that he couldn’t accompany me. I was lucky to understand anything he said between his profuse apologies and the loud protests of his foaling mare, but I let him know I was happy to explore by myself and reassured him I’d find him if I had any questions.
Broad green leaves covered the turmeric fields, creating an ocean of their own, and the winds made the leaves dance in rippling waves with each gust. The once gray clouds had grown heavy with rain and skirted the line between navy and black, but I paid them no heed.
My horse had a few concerns, though.
Maraan stomped his forelegs and flared his nostrils after I dismounted. I stroked the white blaze that ran down the front of his face, which contrasted starkly with his black body and mane. He calmed under my touch, but his ears still twitched nervously.
“You don’t need to worry,” I murmured. “I’m here.”
