“And neither will Banghervari.” Aru stood next to me. “We will cease all payment to the Porcugi now that we have better considered our alliances and the best path forward.”
“B-but?—” Vishwajeet stammered.
“Vishwajeet!” Aru roared his warning. “The Spirits have spoken, and the way is clear. We will not pay tithes any longer. Summon my generals for a meeting tomorrow. Our work has just begun.”
At that moment, the sun emerged from behind a cloud, bathing Aru in light. It glinted off his heavy gold chain and lit his face, laying bare the fury behind his words. He was determined and unwavering, and he had kept his promise to me.
He turned to me and offered his hand. I took it, squeezing it three times. He returned the gesture as we walked back to the palace, but not even his smile could take away the determination in his gaze.
For the first time, I was proud to call him my husband.
Chapter 32
I made sure to show Aru my appreciation for his stance against the Porcugi as much as I could, in every way I could think of. Truth be told, though, he only really cared about one. Which worked out rather well, given the promise I’d made in my false prophecy. As weeks passed by, I anxiously asked Chaaya about the fastest way to know I was pregnant.
She chuckled as she massaged my scalp and worked coconut oil into my curls. “If you are anything like your mother, you will know before you skip your bleeding.”
“But how?” I persisted.
“I will not tell you, Raniji.” She massaged my temples, knowing, without even looking, that I was clenching my jaw. “If I do, you’ll manufacture the sign yourself. When the time comes, you will know.”
No matter how much I demanded and pleaded, Chaaya held her ground. To her credit, she listened patiently whenever I grumbled about the futility of being the rani if people wouldn’t obey my requests. She’d just smile in that quiet way of hers and give me something to eat?—I wasn’t sure if it was a peace offering or because chewing would keep me quiet.
Either way, it was a smart strategy. By the time I finished eating, I usually had to run off to meet with Aru or discuss news from home with Parushi or attend one of the many performances that Vishwajeet had scheduled.
I’d hoped to be able to participate in the council meetings, but it seemed Vishwajeet was still intent on keeping me away from Aru’s advisers. I always showed up at the time I was invited, but inevitably there would be some change in schedule. Vishwajeet never failed to apologize profusely, and he made a great show of berating whichever poor servant he decided to blame for not delivering a message he’d never sent. Talking to him was useless, so I’d tried to get the information from Kamaraya. Aru’s nephew had smiled apologetically and said, “If I told you, he’d just change the time.”
Then he’d leaned in and whispered, “Forgive me, Rani, but sometimes it’s easier to go around a wall than to force our way through.”
Kamaraya’s advice had irritated me at the time, but later I realized he was probably right. I suspected that even if I managed to get Aru to tell me when and where the council was gathering, the meeting would be shifted, and Aru would forgive Vishwajeet because of his trust in him.
So I changed tactics. I told Aru that I wanted to ensure our union strengthened both of our nations, and I asked that the two of us have separate private meetings to review the advice from our councils and make sure our paths were aligned. Aru had readily agreed but must have told Vishwajeet, because the next day the adviser smugly informed me that he would be joining our meetings as well, saying it was unfair to burden the raja with having to remember everything his advisers had said. In a way, I was thankful for his hubris. Thanks to his advance warning, I’d known I should invite Parushi as well, and so began the tradition of the four of us gathering together to discuss the policies of Banghervari and Ullal.
At first our discussions were short, but they became longer as Vishwajeet became increasingly frustrated that Aru wouldn’t change his mind about paying the tithe. Inevitably, Aru’s adviser would pace up and down the large white-walled room where we met, pontificating about the difficulties of war with the Porcugi. He would bemoan the tension among the soldiers and decry the difficulties our ships faced at sea as he begged us to reconsider our stance.
“Have we had any more losses?” I asked.
Banghervari merchant vessels had been attacked twice: eight days ago and twelve days before that. Both times, the Porcugi had been repelled with minimal losses. We’d begun sending our trade ships out in larger groups, and there was a contingent of soldiers aboard every one of them. The ships could better defend themselves, and even though we’d lost one ship during the first attack, most of the crew safely boarded another boat before theirs went down.
“No, thank the Spirits.” Vishwajeet came and sat at the table with Aru, Parushi, and me. “But it is only a matter of time. And everyone knows it. It hangs over their heads like storm clouds that refuse to let loose their rain. It’s one thing to live with the threat for a day or two; it’s quite another to grapple with the idea that it may never end.”
“It will end,” I said. “We will drive the Porcugi back to the sea.”
“The Spirits have foretold it.” Aru’s faith in my “vision” didn’t waver.
Hopefully, that would last for as long as it took to conceive an heir.
“Yes, and then all of Banghervari and Ullal can prosper.” I thanked Aru with a shared glance. I liked to pretend nobody could see our little gestures of affection, but Parushi’s constant eye rolls proved otherwise.
“And is Ullal prospering?” Vishwajeet asked. It sounded less like a question and more like a celebration. “Parushi has not yet given her report.”
I kept my eyes on Aru, but I didn’t see him. I didn’t even think about him.
My mind was turning over Vishwajeet’s words. He had never asked about Ullal before, and his interest today was oddly timed at best. Just this morning, I received a message from Nikith and Thevan saying that three of our ships had been lost in a bloody battle at sea. It was our first loss in a long time, and the people at home were reeling. But Vishwajeet wouldn’t have known that unless he had an informant?—someone reading my mail.
“Ullal prospers,” Parushi said firmly. “People are grateful for the opportunity to avenge their friends and loved ones.”
“Really?” Vishwajeet said. “Surely there must be some attacks on your ships.”
