“Congratulations,” Nallini said dryly. “You’ve finally forced us to agree.”
“You can’t ride into battle in your condition,” Parushi said. “If a Porcugi hurts you, it’s not just you who’s getting hurt. It’s the baby too.”
“Even if it’s not a Porcugi,” Nallini said. “Even if you just hurt yourself while riding, sometimes that can cause enough harm. Women have come to the temple after falls from their horses. They would beg us to help their baby as they bled, but by then the Spirits had already claimed the little one as their own.”
The horns blared again.
Parushi looked desperate to join, but she refused to leave. “You must stay. Just think: If something happens to you, what will happen to Ullal?”
“Think what Vishwajeet will do,” Nallini said quietly.
Their words may as well have been a punch to my stomach. I thumped down on my bed. “Vishwajeet... he would claim Ullal for Banghervari. There’s no otherknownheir to Ullal, so he will claim it is the raja’s right.”
My emphasis on the word “known” did not go unnoticed by Parushi. She stiffened as she stood straight and spoke again. “Raja Lakshmappa would have the clearest and most legitimate claim to Ullal. Your agreement before you were married won’t matter anymore?—he would claim Ullal, remarry, and give both Banghervari and Ullal to his eldest son.”
“A raja would inherit Ullal.” I rubbed my temples. “It wouldn’t even be Ullal anymore.”
Chaaya came back into the room and stood behind Parushi and Nallini. The three of them waited for me to speak again, and Parushi did her best to stop her hands from reaching for the sword she hadn’t strapped on yet when the horns blared out again.
I stood. “I will not fight. But I am counting on you, Parushi, to uphold the honor of Ullal.”
Parushi’s relieved expression was quickly replaced with a look of frenzied energy. “Consider it done.”
No sooner had she finished her sentence than she turned on her heel and left, stopping only to grab her weapons and armor before sprinting out the doors.
Chaaya hurried to my side. She hadn’t even brought the kaashtha sari I’d demanded, but she had managed to find one of my saris from home. The black cloth with green embroidery smelled like Ullal, and I inhaled deeply as she wound it around me. I could almost taste the salt of the ocean and hear the crashing waves on our shores.
Ullal, first and forever. It was why I was here. It was why I needed to fight off the monstrous Porcugi.
And also why I couldn’t.
I placed my hand on my little bump, cradling it. “The next rani of Ullal,” I whispered.
“You should sit down,” Nallini said.
“Easier said than done.” I continued to pace around my chambers.
The waiting was interminable. I had never stopped to wonder what it might have been like for Uncle Trimulya as he waited for word about me and Ektha when the Porcugi attacked. Had he paced through his chambers as I did? Had he fought the relentless urge to desert his position of safety and rally the troops himself?
To their credit, Chaaya and Nallini had tried their best to keep me busy after Parushi had left?—Chaaya with an endless parade of food and drink and Nallini with a barrage of information about the powers of various herbs?—but I had little patience for either of them.
Nallini gestured at my still-wrapped foot. “Your wound was quite deep and is newly healed. This will not help you.”
I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of wincing even though my foot was pounding.
“Please, I have a seat ready for you.” Chaaya gestured to a chair with a cup of hot ginger tea waiting next to it. “I added extra jaggery and cardamom for you, Raniji.”
Chaaya hadn’t forgotten how to get my attention. I sat down and sipped the tea. As much as I wanted to dismiss it as ineffective, it did help me?—and my stomach?—calm down. My fingertips relaxed, and I settled into the back of the chair as I cradled the warm cup.
“I just want to know how it’s going,” I said with a sigh.
“Your husband may know,” Nallini said.
“Yes, I am sure he would, but I can’t go anywhere near the battlefield, so asking him is out of the question.” I waved her off as I tried to think of who else I could ask. “Vishwajeet will probably know, and I doubt he’s fighting, but if there’s a way to avoid talking to him...”
“The raja never fights.” Nallini truly had a talent for saying the most explosive words with the calmest voice. “He always stays in the palace.”
“My husband is in the palace while his people are fighting?” My eyebrows were probably touching my hairline, but there was nothing to be done about that. “He’s not even at the back of the battle where his generals can report to him?”
