Both times my uncle’s condition had gotten worse soon thereafter.
Parushi and Thevan bristled. They understood as well as I did, and both looked like they’d rather be holding their blades. I searched for Thevan’s eyes, hoping to find something to ground me as my thoughts swirled, but he refused to meet my gaze.
As he should, I reminded myself. I looked down at the tea rippling in my shaking fingertips.
“Ah.” I gripped the cup so hard I worried it might break, but it felt good to hold it tight, so I didn’t stop.
“His name is Ulagan,” Chetan said.
It was for the best that Chetan’s young assistant came in at that moment, his arms draped with blossoms. I had the feeling both Parushi and Thevan would have left immediately in search of the traitor if he hadn’t.
“You’re telling them about Ulagan?” The gangly man’s eyes lit with excitement. “None of us could believe it. He’s loved Adesh Uncle’s daughter for so long, but Adesh Uncle wouldn’t have him. And now he’s paying such a big dowry to Ulagan!”
The words rushed out of the assistant’s mouth. I couldn’t recall him speaking more than a word or two before, but apparently once he started to speak, he didn’t stop.
“That’s quite enough,” Chetan said. “The rani is concerned with wars and nations. She has more important things to deal with than our local gossip.”
The young man looked up at me and flushed, as if he suddenly remembered I was royalty.
Chetan continued. “Rani Abbakka wouldn’t know about the time that Ulagan asked for Adesh’s daughter’s hand in front of the entire marketplace, and how Adesh had laughed at him, shaming him in front of everyone.”
Chaaya piped up from the corner. “Adesh threw him out and told him he would never allow his daughter to marry someone so poor.”
“And now they’re getting married?” Parushi’s words sliced across the room, and she began to resemble a living dagger.
Before the young man could cut in again, Chetan pointed to the back room. “Go get some of the roses?—one of each color, but make sure to bring only the best. If the rani likes them, we’ll need to increase our order.”
Chetan didn’t continue until his assistant was well out of earshot. “It would seem that around the time when you became the rani, one of Ulagan’s relatives died, leaving him a fortune. Now, not only can he afford a beautiful home by the sea and a large parcel of farmland, but he also has enough money to demand?—and receive?—a bigger dowry from Adesh since he will be providing his soon-to-be wife with such a life of luxury.”
“Curious that Ulagan never mentioned the relative or his inheritance before.” Thevan did a better job of hiding his anger than Parushi, but somehow that made me even more nervous.
“Nobody knows much about the relative, except that they lived in Kozhikode.” Chetan pursed his lips. “I know a florist there and quietly made some inquiries, pretending I was having trouble with a delivery for the rites. Nobody with that type of fortune died around then.”
“I see.” My words hardly felt enough, but they were all I could muster.
“I have no doubt,” Chetan said.
“Who else knows?” Parushi asked sharply.
“Nobody,” Chetan replied. “My friend in Kozhikode doesn’t know why I asked?—he doesn’t even have Ulagan’s name?—and nobody here knows I reached out to him. This information is for your ears only. And it will stay that way.”
“Good.” Thevan managed to make the word sound like a threat.
Parushi cracked her knuckles. “I don’t think you should worry too much about ordering extra flowers for that wedding.”
Chetan nodded solemnly.
My stomach twisted and clenched. I didn’t want to be here when the young man came back with a bunch of flowers that I’d have to pretend to admire.
“Thank you,” I said as I rose to leave. “I always appreciate our time together.”
Chetan stood and handed me a bouquet of bright red chethipoo. I stared at the tiny red flowers that tumbled over my fingers like a bloody waterfall.
“I will never forget all that your uncle did for me. For Ullal.” Chetan’s voice was low but unwavering. “Those who forget their debts must pay the price.”
Chapter 25
The day of my wedding, I arose early and told my attendants that I didn’t need to start getting ready yet since the ceremony would happen around sunset. They balked at the idea but acquiesced when Chaaya agreed with me. I slipped into a simple lavender langa davani, knowing this was the last time I would be able to wear the half sari instead of the full sari expected of married women. Then, I made my way down to the beach.
