Aru, who was about to take a seat, stopped midway and straightened again. “Do you like dosas, my rani? We can have them take these away and make something else if you prefer.”
Never before had Vishwajeet looked more like a lemur than he did as he stared at Aru.
“I prefer uttapams,” I said.
In an instant, Vishwajeet’s surprise was gone, and flecks of fury spotted his face as he prepared a protest.
I ignored him and kept my eyes on Aru. We needed to be united. “But I’ve always enjoyed dosas. And I’m inclined to like them far more now that I can eat them with you.”
Vishwajeet closed his mouth slowly.
Instead of sitting, though, Aru walked over to me. “Why sit so far apart when we’re meant to be eating the dosas together?”
With a shake of his head, Vishwajeet recovered and clapped twice. Two servants rushed to the table and carried Aru’s chair and plate to where he now stood. Vishwajeet bowed deeply to Aru, as if he had done the work himself, and then brushed the marigold garlands into place after Aru had taken his seat.
“Have a bite.” I broke off a section of the thin pancake and pinched the potato filling between it.
Aru waited with his mouth open and shamelessly ran his tongue across my fingertips as I fed him. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he chewed. “The best bite of dosa I have ever tasted.”
“Thank you,” Vishwajeet said from behind Aru. “I’m glad the raja is pleased.”
Aru tried to cover his chuckle with his hand, and I buried my face in a cup of majjige.
“I hope you might also enjoy the other surprise I have for you,” Vishwajeet said. “I’ve arranged for your favorite Kuchipudi dancers to perform for you today. They will be ready as soon as you finish eating.”
He was stalling. Vishwajeet was plying Aru with all his favorites in an attempt to distract him from the discussion he didn’t want to have. He was treating his raja like a child.
And it was working. Aru’s face lit up. “What luck! Abbakka, you will love them?—they move with such eloquence they put even the greatest poets to shame.”
“I have heard that the rani loves the arts,” Vishwajeet said ever so smoothly. “I hope my efforts will be pleasing to her too.”
I chewed deliberately, buying time before I responded. Naming Vishwajeet’s distraction as such would only result in an argument. But going to the dance would mean we had to watch the performance and thank the dancers with a feast and gifts. Either way, Vishwajeet would avoid talking about trade. Annoyingly clever of him, really.
I decided to take a different approach, but I made sure I had Aru’s attention first. I dropped my left shoulder, and the heavily decorated loose end of my sari slipped off it. It tumbled down my arm, revealing more of the neckline of my blouse. Aru’s eyes raked over my collarbone as I brushed my fingers across it before lifting the fallen end of the sari and throwing it over my shoulder again. His eyes lingered on my shoulder long after it was covered.
“What a coincidence,” I said to Vishwajeet. “Both you and my husband have reminded me of my love for music today. I’d hoped to play my tambura tonight after the discussion with you and Parushi, but there won’t be any time if I attend the performance. Perhaps you, Parushi, and I can speak about our trade, and I will convey the conversation to the raja when the show has finished.”
“No.” Aru squeezed my hand. “It is generous of you to try to shoulder this burden alone, but we must do it together.”
He cocked his eyebrow at me and fed me a bite of dosa. “All of it.”
The food had long cooled by now, but my mouth still felt hot as I chewed.
Aru turned to a very deflated Vishwajeet. “Go get your figures, and have Parushi do the same.”
“But... the dosa,” Vishwajeet gestured behind him as a pair of servants brought out fresh plates for us with hot dosas.
“You and Parushi can have some too. Quick, go get her.” Aru turned to me and ran his thumb across my collarbone. “I have important plans for later today.”
When Vishwajeet returned, he had found his resolve again. Deep lines carved through his face, and his back was rigid as he sat with his papers clutched tight in his hands. Parushi had her rolled scrolls in a pile to her side. Unlike Vishwajeet, she had no qualms about eating the dosa we offered her. Parushi ate voraciously, ignoring Vishwajeet’s indignant glares.
Our chairs had been arranged so Parushi and Vishwajeet were equidistant from each other and from me and Aru, with Parushi on my side of the triangle and Vishwajeet on Aru’s. Invisible borders had been drawn with a forceful hand.
Aru finished his last bite and spoke. “My rani and I would like to discuss the state of trade in Banghervari and Ullal as well as the status of our relationship with the Porcugi.”
Parushi was content to continue chewing, but Vishwajeet practically jumped at the chance to speak. “Banghervari remains an unequaled force in trade. Although some of our valley crops were destroyed by recent flooding, our hilltop crops were largely unharmed. In any other year, our trade would have been far less than last year, but with the Porcugi securing our shipments, we are able to trade at the same level.”
“How much does that protection cost you?” I asked.
