But we could do that without any need for marriage.
Chapter 8
Just as I realized how much we needed to work with Banghervari, Nikith came back into the throne room. He touched my uncle’s feet and said, “The emissary has left, Raja.”
“Your timing is excellent,” my uncle said. “Nikith, tell me what happened during your visit with Raja Lakshmappa.”
“Although the reason we have asked for a stronger alliance is troubling, I have returned home with good news.” A satisfied grin spread across Nikith’s face, erasing the worried crease between his brows. “My trip was very successful, indeed. Raja Lakshmappa would like to formalize an alliance and commit to mutual support and protection of the trade of our nations.”
“Excellent.” I forced myself not to growl as I asked my next question. “What were the terms of the agreement?”
Nikith’s grin faltered, and he stared up at my uncle. My bangles clattered as I crossed my arms and waited for Nikith to continue, but he wouldn’t look at me, and Ektha developed a sudden, intense interest in the silver embroidery on her shawl. My uncle was the only one who would meet my gaze.
“What have you done?” I wanted to hear him admit it, to take responsibility for signing my life away.
“I haven’t done anything,” my uncle said. “The Spirits do as the Spirits will; we simply follow.”
What nonsense. Fire pricked my cheeks, and I scowled at him atop his platform. Was he trying to mock me? My uncle had lost all trust in the Spirits when his sister?—my mother?—had died. And he only ever claimed innocence when he was very, very guilty.
But he was the raja, and well practiced at being unashamed.
I turned toward a more vulnerable target and narrowed my eyes at Nikith. “You are going to tell me what everyone is trying so hard not to say.”
“It is not my?—” he began.
“You cannot claim success for your journey with one breath and then absolve yourself of responsibility with another,” I snapped.
“Abbakka!” Ektha exclaimed.
“If you’re going to speak up, sister, it better be to admit what’s happening.” I didn’t raise my voice, but Ektha winced. “I did not know we kept secrets between us, but you’ve hidden this one well.”
“Don’t blame your sister.” Nikith shifted his weight in his seat. “When your uncle asked me to return to Banghervari, I took miniatures of all of you so Raja Lakshmappa could see the family I represented. When I showed him the paintings, he was particularly interested in yours and wanted to get to know you better.”
“You used me to bargain!” I marched past my sister to confront Nikith with my hands on my hips. “I have loved you as a brother, but you sold me to save yourself the trouble of a proper negotiation.”
Nikith winced. “Abbakka! You know I care for you, but we must all do what is best for Ullal.”
“You cared for me as you would a favorite horse that you could sell whenever it was convenient for you. What were you thinking?”
“He was following the command of his raja.” My uncle’s words echoed through the room, drowning out my rebuke. “It was not for him to think but to obey.”
I whirled to face my uncle, and my long braid whipped through the air and curled around me. “You did this?”
“Of course I did,” Uncle Trimulya snapped. “Stop being so ridiculous and sit, child.”
I glared up at him. He had not called me “child” in years, and he dared to do so now? After selling me as a bride? A small voice whispered that it was childish to stand my ground when my raja had commanded me to take a seat. And every moment spent in defiance was further proof that he was correct.
I remained standing.
Uncle Trimulya rubbed his temples. He looked beyond me when he spoke. “Nikith, go get cleaned up. You’ve barely had a chance to catch a breath since you arrived. Ektha, go with him. I’m sure you want some time together after so long apart.”
Nikith and Ektha bowed to our uncle and went to leave. As they passed me, my sister’s cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth as if to speak but left without saying anything after glancing at our uncle. Nikith didn’t even have the courage to face me before leaving me alone with my uncle in the enormous throne room.
“Come here.” The raja’s command echoed around the room.
I ignored him. If he wanted to treat me like some sort of donkey to be sold to the highest bidder, then he was about to discover just how stubborn a donkey I could be.
“Abbakka.” My uncle’s voice was softer now. It was the one I knew from childhood, when he was Uncle Trimulya, not the raja of Ullal. He stepped off the dais and sat on a chair in front of it, staring up at the throne as he took off his ornate turban and put it to his side. His back curved as he let out a heavy exhale and hung his head. Light streamed in through the windows, but a partition cast a shadow on my uncle, so he sat in the muted tones of gray while the jewels in the turban sparkled in the light.
