It came to me in a flash. “My dearest,” I whispered urgently. “Please, can we go for a walk through the gardens?”
“Are you well enough?” Aru’s arms tightened around me.
“Yes.” I reached up and cupped his chin with my hand as I craned my head and drew his gaze to mine. “I must speak with you. Alone.”
Aru was beginning to nod but stopped abruptly when I spoke my last word.
“Please,” I implored. “I need to speak to you without any prying ears. If you’re worried, we can bring Parushi. I know she’ll stay quiet.”
“Of course, my love,” Aru said. “You and I will walk with Parushi nearby. I’ll have the guards clear the gardens.”
My legs wobbled for my first few steps, but they found their strength again as we made our way through the gardens. I was happy to have an excuse to spend more time in the charmingly overgrown space, but Aru was unimpressed.
“You seem to like it here,” Aru said. “I will send some money so they can tidy it up.”
I hated the idea of changing its wildness, but now was not the time for that discussion. If I wanted my plan to be successful, I needed Aru to be in an agreeable mood. “So generous of you. Banghervari is lucky to have a raja like you. As am I.”
Aru’s face lit up with his impressively contagious smile, and soon we were both grinning at each other. I wondered for a moment what it would have been like if there weren’t any Porcugi. If I weren’t the rani of Ullal. In another world, at another time, could we have just had a happy, easy marriage?
The sharp call of a navrang brought me back to this moment. The nine-colored bird was hopping around on the ground in front of me, protesting angrily because I’d almost stepped on it.
“My apologies, little one,” I said. “But you should be in the forest. You don’t belong here.”
It cocked its head at me curiously, as if it felt the same about me, before launching into the air and flying away. I watched it go, wishing I could follow. But there was work to be done.
By now, we had already gone some distance from the entrance, where the guards kept watch, so I turned to Aru and lowered my voice conspiratorially. “I’m sorry for causing you to worry earlier, but the Spirits spoke to me while we were in the temple.”
Aru stopped and stared at me. I searched his face for signs of distrust but found only surprise. “They spoke to you?”
I nodded eagerly. “They painted a picture in my mind’s eye so clear that even now I can see all of its details.”
Parushi walked nearby, deliberately avoiding looking at us as her eyes darted up and down the grounds. But I knew her well enough to be certain she was listening.
“What did you see?” Aru asked nervously. “It must have been terrible, for you to react like that.”
I reached for his hand, and he happily took mine. “I was riding Maraan through our fields. It was daytime, but it was strangely dark, as if the world was covered in shadows even though the sun was trying to shine. No matter where I went, rot covered all our crops, and they fell to the ground in shades of gray and brown. I kept on riding, kept trying to find a healthy spot, but I couldn’t. I must have ridden all the way to the coast because suddenly I was on a beach. It was completely deserted except for one thing: a cradle.”
“A cradle?” Aru interrupted, his pitch jumping as high as his eyebrows. “Was there a baby?”
“The cradle moved and bulged as if something was in it, but when I went to check, there was no baby. There was a small Porcugi!”
Aru inhaled sharply but gestured for me to continue. I couldn’t have asked for a more captivated audience.
I lowered my voice again. “Instead of blankets, the Porcugi was surrounded by piles of spices. But when I tried to dump it out of the cradle, it wouldn’t fall no matter how hard I shook. I begged the Spirits for help, and they sent a flock of adaiman. The birds assembled into a wall as they flew, and then they flapped their wings in unison, creating a wind so mighty that the Porcugi and all the spices were dumped into the sea.”
Aru leaned closer with my every word, and his eyes widened. Parushi kept up the pretense of staying on guard, but I could see a wicked smile crossing her face as she realized what I was doing.
“After that,” I continued, keeping my voice low, “the adaiman circled around me, and a baby appeared in my arms. The baby was perfect. It had your eyes, your laugh, and my curls. And it gripped my finger with the strength of one thousand tigers. I hugged our baby close and didn’t want to let go, but the adaiman led me back to the cradle. I don’t know why or how, but I knew that the cradle was now safe, so I laid our baby in it. When I did, the fields behind me rose up again, the picture of health. My heart was full, and Banghervari prospered.”
“Our baby.” Aru squeezed my hands. “The Spirits gave you a vision of our son.”
“Yes, our baby.” I didn’t want to argue but I also couldn’t bring myself to say “son” when Ullal needed a daughter. “It was as if the Spirits screamed the vision into my mind. It must mean something.”
“Yes, but what.” Aru tapped his chin. “The will of the Spirits is so hard to understand. Perhaps we should consult Vishwajeet.”
“My raja”?—I dulled the edge that crept into my voice?—“I think this vision is for us. If the Spirits wanted Vishwajeet to know, they would have given it to him. You and I must set the course for Banghervari and Ullal. It is for everyone else to follow our lead.”
“Right, as usual.” Aru rubbed his temples as he thought.
