My voice trailed off as my throat became hot and tight, and I couldn’t speak the words at first. I swallowed and tried to stop my fingers from trembling against his stubbled chin. “I cannot lose you. Go. I command it. I’ll find my own way back to Ullal.”
Thevan would not disobey a direct order. He snatched my hand and held it. Tight. “Come back home as soon as you can.”
We were so close. Our bodies called to one another, pulling us together until the fabric of his kurta brushed against my thighs. The air between us crackled and sparked while the rest of the world went still.
His eyes found mine, and he pulled my hand toward his lips. “Come back to me.”
He kissed my fingertips, and I froze, except for my racing pulse, which thudded through me so loudly it felt like it should echo through the trees. His lips were soft?—I’d never known they were so soft?—but the desire behind them was anything but. It was filled with a fire that sent a jolt from my hand to my heart.
I didn’t want him to kiss my hand.
I snatched it away and closed the distance between us, drawing his face toward mine. His eyes snapped open in surprise, but he hesitated for only a moment before he drew me in and claimed my lips as his own. One hand buried in my curls, pulling me closer, and another wrapped around my body as it held his contours against mine. I could taste his longing as he enveloped me, and we tried to slake the thirst we’d denied for so long.
“Get a move on!” Vishwajeet’s voice cracked through the woods and tore us apart.
I stared at Thevan, breathing hard. He looked back down to the riverbed before pulling me in for one last, fierce kiss.
“Come back tome.”
He left without looking back.
Pins pricked me all over my neck, and every part of me longed to call him back, but I had to let him go. I silently begged the Spirits to keep him safe, even though I had no doubt he would make it past the Banghervari lookouts. One way or another.
When the sky was bright with sunlight and the Banghervari guards were finishing up their packing, it was time for me to play my part. I stood and stomped my way toward the river, holding my head high. I swept through the brush and into the open area as if I were entering a throne room in one of my glittering saris instead of my mud-soaked gray salwar kameez.
“Halt!” one of the guards called out, and she rushed toward me with a sword drawn.
“Put that down.” I kept my voice as cool as the breeze that wove itself through the trees. The camp fell silent as people turned to us. “How dare you brandish your weapon at your rani.”
“Rani!” The woman stumbled to a halt and bowed deeply, and the others did the same. “Where is your guard?”
“They’re waiting for me at the edge of the forest.” I raised the sack that Thevan had given me. “I came to collect the sacred paarijaata blossoms, and the Spirits do not take kindly to too many visitors.”
A few of the guards began to murmur prayers at the mention of the flowers.
Vishwajeet stepped toward me and smiled with too many teeth as he said, “So happy to find you, Rani. Your husband has summoned you back home.”
“I am afraid I cannot go.” I smiled back just as widely. “I am still recovering from the birth of our daughter, whom I need to return to.”
“No doubt the rajkumari has a gaggle of wet nurses vying for more time with her.” Vishwajeet gestured to the horses behind him. “The raja was quite specific with his commands, and each of these guards knows them all too well. I must insist that you come with us. If you ride just a little way, we can take you to the chariot we brought.”
I eyed the guards, and they glared back with stiff, emotionless faces. Vishwajeet must have fed them some poison about me and undermined my position as the raja’s wife. They were due for a reminder. “My husband does not need to send people with swords to bring me home. He need only have written, and I would have come.”
My words hung in the air as the guards’ shoulders deflated, and they stared at the ground. Vishwajeet said nothing, but his smile dimmed.
“I am happy to go back to my husband as long as you provide me with hot water so I can make the tea I need from these blossoms.” I climbed to the horse Vishwajeet had gestured to and mounted it, leaving him on the ground and looking up at me. “Lead the way.”
The journey to Banghervari swished past me as I sat in the simple chariot that met us after we crossed the river. Vishwajeet had probably brought one with little decoration and only a thin cushion as an insult, but I was far more comfortable in something like this than the ornate chariots that Lakshmappa preferred. I slept almost all day and awoke as dusk fell. A chill nipped at my fingertips and toes, and my stomach growled in protest of its hollow state. I picked up the cloth covering the food that had been left for me while I slept, and I was happy to see a few neatly stacked akki roti with a mound of mango pickle on top.
As I ate the now cold flatbread, I tried to organize my thoughts. I needed to get back to Ullal. Fast. My daughter was waiting for me there, and while I was sure the wet nurses would watch over her and Parushi would keep her safe, none of them could take care of her as I could. Not to mention the fact that the Porcugi could attack at any moment.
But Lakshmappa would not let me leave without protest. He must have summoned me back for a reason, and Vishwajeet was almost certainly behind it. No doubt that snake of a man would try to convince Lakshmappa I should agree to pay the tithe to the Porcugi before I was allowed to leave.
Which I would never do.
So, I needed to find a way to make Lakshmappa think we were on the same side. Then I could tell him I needed to go back to our daughter. No, invoking Devi’s name would probably just inspire him to summon her to Banghervari, and then my hands would be tied. I’d be stuck there as long as my daughter was. I couldn’t leave her side, especially knowing what Vishwajeet had planned for her. Somehow, I needed to convince the raja we were in agreement without acquiescing to peace with the Porcugi... and before he could command our daughter be brought to Banghervari.
I could almost hear Parushi saying, “Back to setting realistic marital goals.”
