“Never!” Thevan roared and stood up.
“She must!” Nikith didn’t back down. “You may command our army, but you have no idea what it’s like to rule an entire nation.”
“And you do?” Thevan scoffed.
“More than you. You may have trained with your blade since birth, but a ruler needs to have a command of much more than the sword. The rani understands”?—Nikith turned to me?—“that a nation’s soldiers are not the only ones who pay the cost of war.”
Ektha’s bracelet was heavy on my wrist.
Thevan slammed his hands on the table. “We. Will. Not. Yield.”
I stood and faced my general. “This is not your choice to make.”
He glared at me mutinously but eventually sat down again.
“You have both given me much to consider.” I stared at the doors and wondered what the people outside this room?—outside this fort?—thought about our war. To me, the need to fight the Porcugi was so obvious it needed no explanation, but I couldn’t deny that the towns I’d visited were filled with more whispers than ever before. “We cannot capitulate to the Porcugi’s demands?—we shouldn’t have to pay them tonotattack us. But we need to make sure that the people are behind us in our fight. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow, but for now I need to go meet Parushi. We’re visiting her hometown today. Perhaps while I’m there, I’ll be able to better see and understand the mindset of our people so we can have a more fruitful discussion tomorrow.”
With that, I left, giving them both no choice but to bow in silence.
After such a heated discussion, the afternoon’s sunshine was a relief. Parushi and I rode through her hometown, with three guards in front of us and three behind. I’d made a habit of visiting nearby towns several times a week so the people of Ullal could see me as their rani and hopefully feel some reassurance after the sudden loss of both their raja and the rani they expected. But even though people bowed deferentially, I could hear their murmurs at my back. Few people smiled, and hardly any of them threw flowers. Even the shop stalls themselves seemed to be stocked with fewer wares.
Something needed to be done. I signaled to Parushi and got off my horse. She did the same and followed me in confusion as I carried Maraan’s reins in hand and approached a group of people. They went somewhat slack jawed but were soon put at ease when I asked them a few questions about themselves and then offered to hear any of their concerns. As we spoke, more and more people began to flock to the market, until it was abuzz with activity.
I spoke to them about whatever they wanted to talk about?—the loved ones they’d lost, their concerns about the Porcugi, the growth of their crops, or even my favorite sweets?—and reassured them when I could. As we approached the last stalls in the market, a young woman in a white salwar kameez of mourning pushed her way to the front of the crowd and approached my horse.
Parushi stepped between us. “Give the rani some space.”
The other guards who accompanied me kept their distance when I raised my hand. They watched Parushi for any sign that she needed support.
The woman threw her hands up but didn’t step backward. She pointed to the carrot she held at Maraan. “I just wanted to offer the horse a treat.”
She didn’t seem at all concerned by Parushi or the guards; she kept her eyes on me. I nodded at her, allowing her to offer the carrot, which Maraan ate greedily. She didn’t step back until another guard cleared his throat and came forward, but even then she moved only a few paces away.
Parushi leaned toward me and whispered, “I know her. Don’t trust her.”
“You know her?” My voice was a little too loud.
“She hasn’t spoken of me?” The woman smiled, but her expression had no warmth. “I suppose that makes sense. She never looked back after she left. But we were practically family?—our mothers raised us together. They shared everything with each other. Everything.”
“That’s enough, Shalini,” Parushi said. “Say what it is you need to say and be gone.”
“I have no quarrel with the rajkumari.” Shalini inclined her head at Parushi with a smirk.
The crowd of people within earshot gasped. Murmurs raced along either side of us as word spread of the woman’s insolence.
“The rani!” Parushi stepped toward Shalini with her hand hovering over her hilt. “Apologize! Now!”
“She’s grieving.” I placed a hand on Parushi’s shoulder. The last thing I wanted to do was to alienate the people who were watching us. They would be far more familiar with this woman and her pain, so they would more readily empathize with her than with me. “We must make allowances for our minds when our hearts are heavy.”
I turned back to the young woman?—she appeared to be about my age, but she had the self-assurance of an elder, and she met my gaze with a cold sense of purpose.
Shalini gave me a small half bow. “It’s true that the loss of my mother has left me bereft.”
“May the Spirits guide her.” I spoke the words reflexively and tried to hide my confusion. I always received updates on the deaths after a Porcugi attack, and I was certain I would have remembered if someone the age of Shalini’s mother had died. “I am sorry to hear of your suffering at the hands of the Porcugi.”
“She did not die because of the Porcugi.”
That was a relief, in a small way. It didn’t reduce her suffering, but it was a good reminder for those who were listening that nobody was safe from death, whether the Porcugi were here or not.
