“I hope you have an easier time riding him tomorrow.” The words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to even consider the fact that I had no idea who this man was, and behaving with such familiarity was hardly appropriate.
The warmth of the man’s laughter filled the fields. He shook his head, sending droplets spiraling down his looping curls before they were flung into oblivion. “I hope so too. I understand your Rajkumari Abbakka is quite the equestrian, and I would hate to be embarrassed in front of her.”
Thunder cracked, and I was convinced it was the only reason he couldn’t hear my stomach dropping like a rock. I clenched my teeth to stop my jaw from doing the same.
The white stallion reared, but this time the rider held his reins firmly. He guided the horse back to the ground and comforted him with a lump of sugar retrieved from his pocket.
“There now. See, we’re already getting along better,” he murmured.
The horse leaned down to nuzzle him with his large white head. The rider’s quiet grin was somehow even more appealing than his earlier smile.
But I had no interest in marrying him.
My tongue was weighed down by a million questions, and I couldn’t seem to string two words together. “What... you... who?—”
Before I could continue, a cry went up from the edge of the forest.
“Raja Lakshmappa!” a couple of men called as they raced toward us.
I was thankful that the rider turned to see who had called him, so he didn’t get a look at my wide-eyed face. I knew that name. Raja Lakshmappa of Banghervari. Here. In my Ullal. Standing in front of me, casually presuming to be my future husband, and raising his hand in greeting as if all of this were somehow completely normal.
It was absolutely insufferable.
“I’m unharmed!” he reassured the approaching men. “I’ll be with you soon!”
I mounted Maraan as fast as I could?—before that fool of a raja or anyone in his retinue demanded an introduction. I didn’t even look back as I called out, “I will leave you to your friends!”
“I will return soon!” the man replied. “I am Lakshmappa Arasa Bhangaraja, and I never forget a debt!”
I just wanted him to forget about our marriage.
Chapter 7
The fires in my room were blissfully blistering, and I ignored the chatter of the ladies who helped me undress and sponged me down with warm water. They blamed everyone but me for my appearance: My uncle never should have sent me out to meet the farmers, the farmers should have known better than to take so much time, and the Spirits themselves were out of line for having the audacity to allow the rain to fall on me. Chaaya, the oldest of the women, remained silent. She’d served me since childhood and had cleaned up too many messes like this to absolve me of responsibility.
I shrugged at my trusted maidservant and let the other ladies’ prattle float over me. Truth be told, all I could hear was the memory of the words “future wife” over and over, in that ridiculous man’s honeyed voice.
A knock on the door interrupted the chattering ladies. Chaaya pulled a loose tendril into her bun, which was more white than black, and left to answer the door. When she returned, she said, “The raja has summoned you to the throne room.”
“Good,” I snapped. “I hope he’s ready for what I have to say.”
The women around me exchanged questioning glances but said nothing as they dressed me in a cobalt sari. After they clasped on my necklaces and payal, I took a sash out from my trunk. As I put it on, one of the ladies began to protest about the wrinkles in her precious pleats, but I ignored her and retrieved the long, curved talwar my uncle had given to me last year. Its case was covered in spiraling gold and blue patterns, which I pointed out to the ladies staring at me with eyes as round as teacups. “See, it matches the color of my sari perfectly!”
Their wrinkled noses had much more to say than their mouths, but I affixed the blade to the sash nonetheless and then headed to the throne room.
I wanted to run there, to slam open the doors and demand an explanation from my uncle, but now was not the time for an outburst. I needed to show him I understood strategy well enough to make marriage to such a peacock of a man unnecessary.
A pretty peacock,a small voice whispered.
I shoved it back into the corner of my mind where it belonged; nonsense like that would only distract me. I needed to go to the throne room and listen to what my uncle had to say. Then I had to show him just how much I understood?—and just how little we needed this Raja Lakshmappa. I would be silent, and then I would settle this issue once and for all. I could do that. All my previous failures at keeping my mouth shut were just practice so I could master silence at this very moment.
I didn’t even notice Ektha approaching from another hall until she cleared her throat and said, “Abbakka, wait a moment.”
She hurried toward me with delicate, small steps. Her turquoise sari with silver accents was pristine. Embroidered peacock feathers fanned over her pleats, and her long hair had been pulled into a bun that was decorated with white jasmine blossoms.
“Will I do?” she asked. She tugged her cream shawl?—the one that Nikith had given her the day of their engagement?—tight over her shoulders. “This will be the first time I’ve seen my husband since our uncle requested he return to Banghervari.”
She stared at me and gave me time to process her hint. Of course, Nikith was back from Banghervari. Raja Lakshmappa would not have come here and left Nikith there, but Ektha didn’t know that I’d seen the raja already.
