Thevan was a soldier. His duty would always be to me.
I was a rani. My duty would always be to Ullal.
When I found my voice, I spoke quietly and let the breeze carry my words to his ears. “I cannot love anyone more than I love Ullal.”
Just like that, Thevan’s face closed off again, and he stepped away from me.
“You must have known?—” I began, but Thevan shook his head, and I fell silent.
He looked out over the ocean, and the wind from the sea brushed his hair off his face so I could see the sheen that covered his eyes. He swallowed and turned back to me as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. When he opened his hand, I inhaled sharply.
It was the bracelet Samanth had given me.
I traced the purple, red, and gold threads reverently as I took it from Thevan’s hand, brushing my fingers on the burnt ends. The threads had unraveled, and sand was woven into them, but it was beautiful. “I thought it was gone forever. It came off during his last rites.”
Thevan stared at me, and I could feel the space growing between us as his eyes hardened. “I stayed on the beach until sunrise the next day. When I decided to leave, I saw it in the sand, and... anyway, he would have wanted you to have it. Consider it my wedding gift.”
“Thank you.” My voice was a whisper, but it was all I could do to speak the words. “I will treasure it.”
“It’s a small token, especially compared to the gifts you’ll get later today,” Thevan said bitterly. “And that’s what you need from your husband, right? A marriage that will bring you the money that you’re so convinced will save Ullal.”
His words cut through the armor I’d laid on every day since Ektha’s death. Thevan knew me better. Or at least he should. He knew I had to do this for Ullal and that the thought of leaving was tearing me apart. All this was just making it harder, and he had no right to do it.
“You know I do this for Ullal.” I shoved any regrets about what might have been far away from my heart. “Even if it weren’t true, I am the rani. The decision is mine to make, not yours to question.”
“Then we best head back to the fort,Rani.” He growled the last word. “Your attendants are looking for you.”
He bowed formally?—excessively?—and strode back to the fort without a second glance. I caught up, and we walked in silence, leaving our conversation at the beach. Only the sands had borne witness to it, and they would soon be washed away with the tides.
As we crossed the grounds, a somewhat harried guard ran toward us. He bowed deeply when he reached us, speaking between his panting breaths. “Rani, forgive me. You’re needed in the gardens.”
“The gardens?” I repeated, not sure I’d heard right.
The guard straightened. “Yes. A man named Vishwajeet arrived with six attendants, and he insisted that I find you straightaway. He said he would wait for you in the first garden by the gate.”
“Your future husband takes great liberties.” Thevan’s eyes glinted. “Sending his adviser at this hour on your wedding day.”
“I’m sureRajaLakshmappa has a good reason,” I snapped back.
Thevan opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it. He signaled to the guard to accompany me, and when I moved toward the gardens, Thevan didn’t follow. Instead, he turned and made his way to the training yards with only a grunt to see me off. I pretended I didn’t notice. Or care that this was the last time I would see him before I left for Banghervari.
I was a rani, and I needed to serve my nation. He should have understood that.
The guard and I went to a small walled garden near the entrance. Vishwajeet stood on the steps to a central dais, surrounded by perfectly symmetrical flowerbeds on either side. He was facing away from me, but he appeared completely relaxed. I couldn’t say as much for the six people who lined the path to him in pairs, each carrying a mounded platter covered in jade green silk. They stood uncomplaining, but their tense faces revealed their struggle to keep the trays straight.
My guard strode into the garden ahead of me, and the slapping of his steps on the stone path caught Vishwajeet’s attention. Aru’s man hurriedly turned around, but he paid no attention to the guard. Instead, he leaned to the side to try to catch a glimpse of me, like a crane leaning around a clump of cattails.
“Rani Abbakka.” Vishwajeet bowed deeply, but he sneered at my simple langa davani.
I nodded in acknowledgment as I passed him on the stairs and stepped onto the dais.
Vishwajeet managed to reset his expression. “My raja bids you well and thanks you for the generous accommodations you arranged for us. Please forgive me for arriving so early in the day, but my raja was eager to send these gifts.”
Vishwajeet gestured behind him, and?—in impressive unison?—the tray bearers removed the green cloths to reveal large piles of sweets.
“How very generous.” I couldn’t hide my confusion. “But I think the raja may have overestimated my sweet tooth.”
“I had no idea the rani had such wit.” Vishwajeet appeared entirely unamused. “These are for your people, of course. My raja feels that their joy is bound to please the Spirits, and he is eager to ensure that your marriage begins auspiciously.”
