“Sixteen percent. For now.” Vishwajeet crossed his arms.
“It seemed prudent at the time,” Aru said from beside me, “to offer them a little bit in exchange for their security.”
“I see.” I tried to hide my disgust. “Now that your trade is guarded by the Porcugi, you’re trading just as much as before the floods. Correct?”
“Yes.” Vishwajeet’s back was straight in defiance. “No loss whatsoever.”
“Is that before or after you’ve deducted the sixteen percent you’ve given to the Porcugi?”
Vishwajeet was utterly unprepared for the ferocity of my gaze.
“Before,” he mumbled.
“I didn’t hear you.” I had.
“Before,” he repeated, throwing his shoulders back again.
“Meaning your current trade income is approximately eighty-four percent of last year’s?”
All of Vishwajeet’s facial features were pulled to the middle of his face, and his cheeks began to color. He could grimace all he wanted; I would not back down. His word had gone unquestioned in Banghervari for long enough.
“It’s not that simple,” Vishwajeet spat. “There is more nuance to trade than I can teach you in a single meeting. Besides, I am sure the rani and raja have more important things to do than worry about such details. Perhaps I should discuss this matter with Parushi, and then we can report to you later.”
If Vishwajeet thought he would have a more sympathetic audience with Parushi, he was sorely mistaken. But I wasn’t going to let him find out. “The raja and I are more than happy to discuss this with you, and I can assure you of my comprehension of economics.”
“Of course.” Vishwajeet’s words were deferential, but he gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles.
“In Ullal,” Parushi jumped in, “we do not pay the tithes, and our trade has increased since last year thanks to a bountiful harvest.”
“You don’t pay tithes because Banghervari pays them for you,” Vishwajeet snapped. “And it’s ridiculous to presume that we will continue to do so. You must pay your fair share.”
I exchanged a furious glance with Parushi. Banghervari had been paying off my sister’s murderers in our name. Nikith hadn’t pulled off a miracle when he negotiated my engagement?—Aru, or more likely Vishwajeet, had found a way to work around my terms. They must have made a deal with the Porcugi on behalf of Ullal, which would explain why the attacks stopped so quickly after our engagement was finalized. And why we were now receiving word that Ullal had been told to pay.
Aru had the decency to blush. “As one of the terms of our engagement, I promised I’d help stop the Porcugi attacks. This seemed the most prudent and expedient way.”
“The Porcugi murdered my family and friends.” I forced myself to speak calmly, even though I wanted to scream. “And all this time you’ve been paying them on my behalf?”
“I didn’t think of it like that.” Aru reached for my hand. “All I knew was that the Spirits wanted us to be together, and giving the Porcugi a bit of money seemed like the best way to make it happen.”
He spoke of money as if it was nothing. To him, it probably was.
But to me, it was about so much more than that. The money Aru gave the Porcugi helped to sustain and strengthen those monsters. It signaled that we’d rather cow to oppressors than fight with all our might.
I leaned toward Vishwajeet, deliberately articulating each word. “Ullal will pay no tithes.”
Aru squeezed my hand three times. I ignored him.
“I’m sure the thought of the cost overwhelms you, but you needn’t worry?—you wouldn’t be expected to pay the full burden for Banghervari and Ullal.” Vishwajeet’s cloying tone didn’t stop me from hearing the implication that Banghervari had already done this for Ullal. “Only ten percent of your trade.”
“Ten percent?” Parushi crossed her arms and cocked her head. “You said sixteen just a moment ago.”
I did the math in my head. “It’s sixteen percent when they pay theirs and ours. Banghervari is far larger, and they have more exports, so ten percent of Ullal’s trade is only six percent of theirs. They’re paying their ten percent plus six for us.”
Vishwajeet chose his words more carefully now and spoke with begrudging respect. “That’s true. Ullal has been spared the wrath of the Porcugi because of the sacrifices we’ve made in Banghervari. But the time has come for Ullal to pay its fair share.”
I pushed my chair away from the table. It toppled behind me and cracked against the stones of the courtyard as I stood. Everyone stared at me, and I let the silence hang on the table, shrouding it in my authority before I spoke.
“Ullal will pay no tithes,” I repeated. Low, quiet. Like the distant rumble of thunder that promised a storm if the winds dared to blow it toward our home.
