“I could not live with myself if I allowed anything to harm such beauty,” Lakshmappa said.
My face was on fire?—I longed to find the coolness of the shadows, but there was nowhere to hide up on the dais. Sitting beside me, my uncle beamed. I stole a glance at the resplendent raja and immediately regretted my choice. That fool of a man had no right to look so handsome so soon after a battle. And I supposed he thought it was clever to match his kurta perfectly with his eyes, which earnestly searched mine for any sign of favor. I looked down at the hem of my sari again.
That glance must have been all the encouragement he needed, though, because there was no hiding the joy in his voice when Lakshmappa cleared his throat and spoke again. “The beauty of Ullal, of course. I could never let anything harm the beauty of Ullal.”
“And we are grateful for it,” my uncle said. I didn’t need to look at him to know that the Tiger of Ullal was positively preening with satisfaction. “Please, sit. We have prepared a feast to welcome you.”
As if on cue?—in fairness, probably right on cue?—a stream of servers entered through the doors. Platter after platter of food was brought into the throne room, and a symphony of spices filled the air, lifted in fragrant steam. A murmur of approval arose in the crowd, and I lifted my eyes, surprised at the volume.
I hadn’t realized how many people had come in after the raja had made his entrance. The throne room was filled with a throng of at least eighty people, and all of them looked approvingly at the food. Only a third of them were soldiers and advisers from Ullal; the rest were all from Banghervari. Some wore swords or bows?—clearly soldiers?—while others wore the finery of court. The people with the platters still waited patiently at the sides of the room, acting as if they weren’t bothered by the weight, even though I could see some of their arms starting to tremble.
“We couldn’t possibly impose on your hospitality before we’ve offered our thanks for allowing us to visit,” Raja Lakshmappa said.
The man wearing nutmeg robes clapped twice, and the gifts were laid out. Incense, sweets, spices, and finely woven cloth soon filled the floor in front of us. It was breathtaking and far more than was necessary for such an occasion. The raja was making his position quite clear: He wanted Ullal as an ally. And not just any ally. He had come to declare himself as a suitor worthy of consideration.
No doubt my uncle was thrilled, but before I could make any sense of my feelings, a woman approached the dais with a tray covered by a yellow cloth. Curious, I leaned forward, but Raja Lakshmappa grinned mischievously and blocked my view. He did not move until the woman had set down the tray and stepped away, revealing a large platter of fresh orange turmeric roots.
I fought the urge to cover my hot cheeks and stood numbly, unsure of what to do and wishing that Ektha was beside me more and more with each passing moment. She would have known exactly how to react, but all I could do was stand there and hope my silence was better than the jumble of incoherent words I would surely speak.
Lakshmappa turned to my uncle. “During our journey here, I found the most magnificent turmeric field. I stumbled upon it quite by accident, but I will never forget its loveliness and charm. I felt an immediate connection. The Spirits could not have given me a clearer sign if they had screamed in my ear: Our kingdoms were destined to be united.”
The man with the thick gold chain?—who was he? an adviser??—clapped loudly at the end of the speech, and the rest of the people in the room followed his lead. My uncle nodded happily in agreement. I doubted anyone else had noticed, but I could see his muscles straining as he forced his grin. The gray was returning to his face now that the rush of the raja’s arrival had begun to wane. He nodded and gestured to me.
I stepped forward, pushing the emotions of the day aside. It was time to act as the rajkumari?—as the next rani of Ullal, even if nobody else knew it. My thoughts tried to tiptoe toward Ektha again, but I refused to crumble.
“The people of Ullal are forever grateful for your gifts today, both here and on the field of battle.” I articulated each word so they echoed through the room and forced everyone to listen. “My uncle and I invite you all to join us in what we hope will be the first of many meals together.”
I clapped twice, mimicking the tempo of the man next to Lakshmappa but refusing to meet his eyes. The servers jumped into action, loading up the table and offering mounded trays of still-steaming food to our guests. A young man offered a plate to my uncle, but Uncle Trimulya waved it off and insisted that he serve our royal guest first.
When he tried to give the plate to Raja Lakshmappa, the man with the thick gold chain stepped in front of him. “You dare serve the raja of Banghervari castoffs?”
He raised his hand as if to strike the young man, who blinked rapidly as his face turned ashen. I recognized the low ponytail and realized he was the same person who had nervously provided my uncle food when we realized Ektha was missing. A pang struck my heart. Ektha would have made sure this server was protected. She would have shielded him from the wrath of a more powerful man.
I descended from the dais and approached the raja. I did not waste my energy on Lakshmappa’s man; I kept my attention on the raja alone. My voice sounded much calmer than my heart as I spoke. “We would never dream of giving the raja anything less than the hero’s welcome he deserves. Please forgive his eagerness, Raja.”
Lakshmappa smiled widely and approached me. “Of course. And I ask that you forgive Vishwajeet. He can be rather overzealous about my honor and seems to have forgotten the appreciation we owe our gracious hosts.”
The man with the gold chain?—Vishwajeet, Lakshmappa had said?—did not look abashed, but he folded his hands and bowed in repentance toward my uncle and then me. My uncle nodded, and the server offered him the food again. The young man’s hands were still trembling. Beyond him, my uncle looked more tired with every passing moment.
I wanted to scream at Uncle Trimulya and tell him that he should go lie down instead of making us all play along with this ridiculous charade. Maybe if he rested, we could all take the time we needed to restore ourselves?—to pretend we could find a way to mend the gaping holes in our hearts.
But I knew he wouldn’t listen. My uncle clearly had no intention of telling the visiting envoy that he wasn’t well, and now it was my job to keep his secret. All our secrets. I tried to think of how to take Lakshmappa’s attention off my uncle.
“Perhaps I can show you some of my favorite dishes.” I gestured at the food-laden table in front of us as I did my best impression of the sweet smile that Ektha had tried so hard to teach me. It had always come easily to her, but no matter how much I’d tried, it’d been obvious that I was ready with a bite behind my grin. I gripped her bangle, hard, as I tried to make sure my expression didn’t turn into a snarl.
Lakshmappa didn’t seem to notice. He returned my smile, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the honesty of his expression. There were no secrets hidden behind those lips. He was either truly happy to spend time with me or a very good liar.
Or both. Time would tell, I supposed.
Time.
I looked out the window, toward the mountains beyond the fort, wishing I could go visit Matanta. Even with the strange way that time wrapped around that sacred place?—no matter how long I stayed with Matanta, I always returned to the base of the mountain shortly after I’d begun my climb?—there was no way I could sneak there now. Just getting through the woods and to the mountain would take too long, especially with more eyes on me than ever. Not that going would be of any use. Matanta would never let me ask the questions?—
“Rajkumari?” Lakshmappa’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“Forgive me, Raja.” I returned my attention to him. “I got lost in the view. No matter how many times I see it, it always takes my breath away.”
“I know what you mean.” He stared at me, ignoring the window and sending pricks up my spine. “But I would appreciate your guidance on where I should begin.”
