“Has my uncle already eaten his way through the feast the kitchens prepared?” I asked, keeping my voice deliberately light. “I know they were busy perfecting the biryani this morning.”
Thevan tugged at his collar as he shook his head. “I do not believe the raja has had a chance to eat since his return.”
I exhaled slowly and forced my expression to remain neutral. My uncle’s love for biryani was so well known that there was an unwritten rule in the kitchens: Whenever the raja returned from a long journey, biryani was served to him as soon as he dismounted from his horse. The serving staff bribed members of the guard to give them information about his arrival time so they could bring him his first plate?—whoever did so would always receive a generous purse, especially if the biryani was served piping hot.
Unwilling to accept Thevan’s response as complete, I stared at him until he whispered, “There was an attack. Several of our soldiers have been taken to the infirmary.”
“And my uncle?” I murmured, keeping my voice soft even though a fire blossomed in my chest.
The marketplace was already buzzing because of our presence?—this was not the time or place to show any signs of worry. People dutifully lowered their gazes and bowed their heads while we walked by, but as soon as we passed, they huddled together to whisper. We were the eye of a hurricane, encased in an unnatural silence as activity swirled all around us.
“He awaits you in the infirmary.” Thevan’s lips only moved at the corner of his mouth, and I had to lean closer to listen. A hint of pink touched his cheeks as he continued. “I know very little. Before I could find out what had happened, Rajkumar Nikith sent me to find you and bring you straightaway.”
“You swear you don’t know anything more?” I stared at him, searching for any sign he was keeping secrets.
“You know I could never lie to you.”
That hardly seemed fair. These sparse words were the longest conversation we’d had in more than a year; we’d both made sure of that. “I have to ask.”
He found my gaze and barely spoke his next whispered words. “No, you don’t.”
It was my turn for my cheeks to color.
The amber flecks in Thevan’s black eyes caught the light?—the same flecks that used to dance when we hid from our instructors and shared samosas we’d sneaked from the kitchens. Later, those flecks had shone whenever his eyes found mine, but now he avoided that whenever he could. We both understood our duties. My family held the riches of our nation, but I could not afford the luxury of love.
My marriage would be used for the benefit of Ullal, just as my sister’s had been. Ektha’s union with Nikith, the fifth son of the raja of Bidanur, had brought peace between our nations after generations of fighting. Thankfully, the two of them were well suited for each other, but that had not been a concern for Uncle Trimulya. Even though my uncle hadn’t even begun talking about my future marriage, I knew that when the time came, it would be for the sake of Ullal?—not for love.
And definitely not to a soldier.
I forced myself to look away. We had other problems at hand. “Tell Ektha. Quietly.”
Thevan nodded and hurried to my sister’s side. Her eyebrows drew together as Thevan spoke in a hushed tone. She kept silent when he finished but hastened our return to our coastal fort.
I pushed Thevan out of my mind as we walked, and I tried to cool the questions that burned my tongue. Why was our uncle meeting us in the infirmary? He’d been in regular communication since leaving for Banghervari, and his latest letters had been almost ebullient. They’d hinted at a closer alliance, certainly not any type of conflict.
The group must have been attacked as they returned, but by whom?
Bidanur had long contested our control over the fertile fields of Berdatte, but we’d crushed them there two springs ago, and now Nikith had married into our family. Provoking another war would be foolish. The Kozhikode to the south and Vijayapura to the east had the strength, but their land was so separated from ours that we would have heard about movement of their army if it was them. None of it made sense. I wanted to go faster?—to run?—but I also dreaded the answers that awaited us when we arrived.
We made our way toward the beachside fort that separated the town from the port and finally reached its walls. Although the fort included accommodations for the royal family, it was designed for defense, and its harsh appearance had none of the warmth of our palace in Puttige. The brick walls were thick and high, and the wide ramparts provided ample space for the ever-present guards. Even the fort’s hilltop position was a strategic choice. It overlooked the adjacent port on Someshwara Beach, where we exported all our spices. That port was the real reason for this fort’s existence?—our people needed us to keep it safe.
The fort’s enormous wooden doors were as tall as three men. Usually, six guards were stationed at the entryway, but today I counted no fewer than ten. They all kept their hands near their blades as they nodded in terse recognition to the guards accompanying us when we entered.
Inside the walls, an open green lawn lay in front of the imposing fort. Soldiers patrolled every doorway while archers paced atop the wall, each with an arrow out of their quiver and ready for use. Ektha raised an eyebrow at me when she noticed them, and she jumped as the doors closed behind us with a thud. To my surprise, the guards placed a heavy bolt on the door. During my childhood visits, I’d hung off the sturdy metal hooks driven deep into the doors, but I’d never seen the bolt in use.
When we got inside, we were led directly to the infirmary. None of the guards left us; apparently, we had become their sole responsibility. I did not question it, but the feeling rising from my stomach became harder to push down with every step.
Ektha reached the infirmary doors first and paused for a moment to pat down a few loose wisps of hair and smooth her aubergine sari, its gold detailing shimmering with every ripple of the cloth. “We are still appearing before the raja. We cannot be a mess.”
She looked back at me, and I stepped forward to help adjust her necklace and make sure her nethi chutti was centered on her forehead. As a final touch, I tucked the jasmine blossom from Nikith behind her ear. Ektha tried to smooth a few of my flyaways but eventually gave up as they defied her attempts to create order. There was only so much we could do with my hair?—those curls had a mind of their own. Thankfully, my jade sari was much more compliant, and its pleats fell neatly after minimal adjustment.
With a final nod, Ektha allowed the guards to open the doors. One of them announced us as we walked through. “The Rajkumaris Ektha and Abbakka.”
Chapter 2
Nobody paid attention when we entered. With good reason.
The infirmary was a frenzy of activity. Healers dressed in their saffron robes rushed from patient to patient as apprentices cut bandages and ground pastes for wound dressings. In the middle of the room, a petite woman in a mustard yellow sari barked orders. She managed the chaos with an expert hand as her long silver braid whipped around her constantly moving head. When she saw us, she hurried over.
