“You must figure it out; otherwise, you will pay with time both in your present and your future. That man up there came too early. So now he must wait.”
Abbakka pursed her lips and looked up to Matanta’s cave. “I hope it is his time soon.”
“Your time is not well spent worrying about him.”
The little girl’s eyes filled with tears. She understood what Matanta would not say.
The green winged lion continued. “You must control your time, or time will control you. You cannot rush to your destination or neglect it. If you do, time will have the upper hand and you will be trapped in the destiny she chooses.”
The little girl with big brown eyes nodded solemnly.
Matanta stood and shook his muscles loose from head to tail. He extended his wings and stretched them outward, keeping his eyes forward as he made his way back toward the cave. His last words were little more than a whisper, carried on the breeze of his wings.
“And time is a cruel mistress.”
Chapter 29
Life settled into a new pattern in Banghervari. For the first time ever, I found myself sleeping well past dawn, making mornings shorter in Banghervari than they had been in Ullal?—no surprise since the nights were longer. I even stayed nestled in bed for a few moments after I opened my eyes, savoring the brushes and touches of the sheets, which echoed Aru’s caresses and kisses on every part of me.
After I finally arose and got ready, I would usually meet with Aru so we could tour Banghervari together. Vishwajeet had insisted?—and Aru agreed?—that it was important for our people to see me and know me. So every day, we’d ride on palanquins to a new part of his kingdom, where we’d wave as people threw flowers, creating a carpet our feet would never touch. I’d tried to protest that this was no way for them to get to know me, but Aru had laughed and seemed too pleased by the adoration of his people to mind much.
This morning, though, I awoke early. My maids were caught by surprise, and they hurried about, tittering as they passed each other while they tried to arrange for breakfast and find me a suitable sari to wear. They didn’t know that I’d asked Chaaya to get me up at daybreak.
I had just emerged from my bedchamber into my private sitting room when Parushi walked in, holding a sheaf of messages. She saw the number of maids?—those dressing me, bringing my food, and making my bed?—and her hand tightened around the papers.
“Rani.” She bowed deeply. We’d decided that we would follow the strictest protocols whenever anyone from Banghervari was nearby. People were watching us. Somehow both the raja and Vishwajeet knew of the bangle I wore to honor my mother and sister, even though I’d never spoken of it to them. We still hadn’t identified the spies. Or whom they reported to.
It didn’t stop me from suspecting Vishwajeet.
I signaled for Parushi to rise. “I trust that you will be accompanying me when I go out with the raja today.”
“Yes.” Parushi was standing as if a sword were at her back. “But I wonder if you might be interested in taking a ride on Maraan first. The raja has not yet risen, so there will be plenty of time, and Maraan looked restless in the stables this morning.”
I knew Parushi made sure to ride Maraan regularly precisely to avoid this situation. She’d even taken Chaaya on a ride yesterday, but I said none of this. “I trust that you will find someone else to take care of that. For now, I need you to accompany me.” The maids leaned forward. “I have a surprise for my raja, but I don’t want to impose on the guards. We’ll have to hurry, though. He has a tour planned for later, and I don’t want to be late.”
“As you wish.” Parushi bowed deferentially. The bow itself was perfectly fine, but knowing how much all this fuss and bother grated on her made it look oddly amusing.
Parushi and I ignored the awkward silence and left, and I waved off the guard that tried to accompany us.
“So where are we going?” she whispered as soon as we were in an empty hall.
“I’ve found out where the record room is,” I whispered back. “Kamaraya let it slip yesterday. We need to sift through their records to see if they have anything about the Porcugi. Aru’s parents might have seized the records of the nations they defeated, so there’s a chance we’ll have more luck here than we did in Ullal.”
Parushi nodded but said nothing as we passed by a cluster of guards. I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing so much green everywhere. And white. I missed the blue of Ullal’s uniforms and the red of our walls.
We turned a corner, and she leaned back to me. “The sooner we learn more, the better. I just received a letter from Thevan. He’s asking if you’ve approved paying a tithe to the Porcugi.”
I stopped and stared at Parushi. “Never!”
“Well, apparently there’s a letter with the Banghervari seal instructing them to pay a tithe on every shipment.” She held out the note from Thevan.
“That letter was signed by Vishwajeet, not Aru.” I rubbed my temple as we continued to walk. “Touring Banghervari has taken so much time that Aru told me he’d entrusted the council with managing things. I should have realized he’d basically given Vishwajeet free rein. I wonder if Aru was even consulted?—it’s possible he has no idea that any of this is happening.”
“Maybe.” Parushi sounded doubtful at best. “But maybe not. You need to find out. And then what will you do?”
“Put an end to it.” I squeezed Ektha’s bangle tight. She would have known what to do and how to maneuver in this palace where even people’s words were gilded. “I don’t know how, but I’ll die before Ullal pays a tithe to the monsters that murdered my sister.”
“Thevan will be relieved to hear it.” Parushi looked far less troubled too. “He seemed anxious to know you hadn’t changed so much in your short time here.”
