Aru meant every word. Our faces were less than a finger’s length apart, and there was no room for him to hide anything in his expression. He just stared at me earnestly, waiting for me to believe him, to accept him. I desperately tried to slow the beating of my drumming heart and reminded myself that I was not marrying this man for love. I was marrying him for the good of Ullal, and I needed to stay focused on that. But my self-rebuking thoughts quieted to a muffled whisper. His voice was the only sound I wanted to hear?—it was my guiding star in these stormy seas.
The roar of the people cheering for our union brought me back to the surface. I inhaled deeply as my lashes fluttered with heavy blinks. My cheeks were sore from smiling so widely. Spirits, this man had far too tight a hold on me.
“You cannot change me so quickly,” I said. “I will not be so easily won.”
“You think this was easy?” He sounded more amused than annoyed. “Apparently I need to find a way to express myself better.”
Aru’s smile showed only a flash of mischief before I found myself tilting back as my feet flew up into the air in front of me. He had?—quite literally?—swept me off my feet, and he carried me off the mandap. My mehndi-decorated toes peeked out from beneath my red hem, and I kicked gently in protest. But I couldn’t even pretend to mind for long. I dissolved into laughter as he carried me back to the fort, where our feast was waiting.
He lifted me with ease, even though I was weighed down by my red sari’s heavy embroidery, several gold necklaces, endless rows of bangles, and my bridal nath, with its chain that extended all the way to my hairpiece. Not to mention all the rubies that made me sparkle wherever the gold didn’t shine. I was draped in the wealth of Ullal, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He lifted me up as if I weighed nothing. As if I didn’t carry my nation’s hopes. As if I weren’t its shield and sword and scales of justice. As if the memories of my mother, uncle, and sister weren’t constantly reminding me that I couldn’t let myself fail. He carried me?—all of me?—with ease. Either Aru didn’t realize the weight of everything he bore so readily, or he didn’t care.
It made no difference. I nuzzled into him and embraced his warmth, listening to his heart beating steadily with his steps. And, in that moment, I realized I did not mind being carried.
Chapter 28
The ocean became a thinner and thinner line on the horizon as we left Ullal. We rolled over hills and past endless fields as we traveled along the Netravathi River and into Aru’s kingdom. I’d known this river since childhood. It emptied into the ocean, making giant hills of foam as it crashed into the salty waves, but its ferocity was reduced to gentle ripples as we traveled farther and farther inland. The Netravathi River formed Ullal’s northern border, separating us from Banghervari, but Banghervari was so vast that its southern tip dipped below the river and abutted our eastern border as well. As we traveled, my hope that we might be staying near Aru’s seaside port in Mangaluru faded, and I realized we must be going to his palace in Nandavara, just south of the river.
Trumpets blared into the skies upon our arrival at the local temple, where we prayed and distributed alms. By the time we left, an endless crowd of people lined the road all the way to the palace’s intricately carved wood gate. Guards held the people back as the gate opened, but their joyful screams and piercing whistles echoed over the walls as we approached the stairs in front of the palace’s imposing doors.
My family’s fort in Ullal had always felt austere compared to our palace in the capital at Puttige, but the palace in Nandavara made my home in Puttige look like a modest estate. Here, enormous rooms were filled with ornately carved furniture, sumptuous pillows, and richly colored tapestries. The painted gold on the palace walls shone in the sunlight, and when the building itself shimmered, the royalty had no choice but to sparkle.
The detailing on Aru’s emerald salwar shimmered in the lamplight, and my hibiscus-colored sari?—which I had argued was ridiculously ornate when I first saw it?—now felt barely adequate. He guided me through the halls, chattering endlessly about the people in the portraits that we passed on our way to my chambers. He didn’t seem to notice how cold my hands were or that I was completely silent as the realization of what was to come?—of what was expected of a bride after her wedding?—took hold of my stomach and squeezed it tight.
Amma had died long before we had to entertain any thoughts of marriage, and Ektha... I was always supposed to have more time with her. After she’d married Nikith, my sister had tried to hint that it would soon be my turn to live up to the obligations of a woman. Ever so gently, she’d attempted to guide our conversation toward marriage and that first night. I’d announced that I’d rather be literally beaten than listen to such nonsense, and I’d stormed off to the practice grounds with my sword, muttering about the inanity of such conversations.
But now I was here. In Banghervari. With a husband whose eyes betrayed his hunger.
And I didn’t have the faintest idea of what to do.
A pair of maids opened the doors to my chambers as I gripped Ektha’s bangle and stepped in, letting my mother’s payal bells squish into my palm. The rooms were spacious, no doubt, and the large sitting room was filled with sumptuous sofas and chairs. On the floor, there was an enormous plush carpet in shades of green and blue. It was nothing like the dhurrie rugs from home?—this was done in the new style of the northern rajas. It was all very stylish and opulent and Banghervari in every way.
“I told them to bring you nothing but the finest things.” Aru looked at me anxiously as he awaited my approval. “I want you to feel completely comfortable here. This is your space, and if you want anything else, just say the word, my rani.”
“It is beautiful.” I let go of the bangle and reached for his hand. “You’ve done too much.”
“Never.” Aru stepped toward me, ignoring my hand and pulling me closer by my waist. “I would give you the world if it would make you smile.”
“I don’t need such finery.” I didn’t want him to see how much I missed Ullal, so I mirrored his gesture, putting my arm around his waist.
Aru beamed at my touch and pulled me even closer. Then he turned us toward another door. “That room has been set up for the women who accompanied you.”
That made me genuinely smile. The thought of having Parushi and Chaaya nearby was a great comfort.
Aru sensed my happiness but misunderstood it. “Ah! You’ve caught sight of your bedchamber as well!”
He swiveled me toward a set of double doors at the back of the sitting room, farthest from the halls. “You’ll have the most beautiful views of sunrise.”
Sunrise. East. Away from home. But this was supposed to be my home now. I managed to whisper, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for that.” Aru turned me around so his arms enveloped my waist from either side. “I don’t intend for you to see it very often.”
I could feel his contours meeting mine, sending his heat into me and making my skin feel like fire. I inhaled his sandalwood scent and became suddenly aware of his broad shoulders and the strength of his chest. I could melt?—give way and become nothing?—and he would still hold us up.
My breath caught in my throat as Aru brought his lips to my ears. “I’ll leave you to get ready.”
After he left, a flurry of ladies’ maids descended, swirling around me with a sparkling silk sari and decorating me with jewels. They tittered together as I held Ektha’s bangle, unsure of what to do. I ended up just trying to make sure I wasn’t making anything more difficult than it needed to be. Chaaya had the wherewithal to bring me a glass of thati kallu?—and Parushi sneaked me a very generous refill of the palm wine?—but I was aware of little else as the women fussed and finessed until they finally stepped back and deemed me worthy.
