The next time Nallini washed off the congealed paste and applied a new layer, Parushi screamed, and I had to lay on her legs to keep her still.
Nallini raised her head in alarm, but I commanded her not to stop. “Keep going. There’s no time to waste.”
She nodded and went back to work, and Chaaya left as soon as the new layer of turmeric had been smeared on. Nallini began to push on Parushi’s abdomen, and more slimy clumps came out as the web contracted.
“This will go faster if you focus on making the paste and I apply it,” I told Nallini. “Grind the turmeric. I’ll wash and reapply as you make it.”
We worked in silence and soon fell into a rhythm, a wordless understanding. Nallini ground the turmeric furiously, transforming the fibrous root into a smooth paste with the addition of water and a few other herbs and seeds that seemed to vary each time. She kept a scroll near her and made notes with each application. I watched the applied orange paste like a hawk. After enough of the clumps appeared?—or when Parushi started to clench her teeth?—I would wash away the paste and apply a fresh layer.
Slowly, painfully slowly, fewer clumps appeared as I massaged. Instead of wormlike coagulations, blood began to flow more freely, puddling on the ground and making the flickering light of the ever-shortening candles look sinister in its crimson reflections.
Parushi was breathing easier now, though, and her fisted hands loosened. Her face still glistened with sweat, but she relaxed onto her pillow as she released a long exhale. “It hurts less now.”
“Good. Save your strength,” Nallini said. “Don’t speak unless you need to. I know what to look for.”
Nallini turned to me. “We should be past the worst of it so long as we can keep it clean and apply the fresh paste. Hopefully, Chaaya will be able to get more turmeric soon.”
By the time Chaaya returned, Parushi was breathing easier, and Nallini and I were catching our breaths between applications. We’d used the last of the paste, and our fingers were stained bright orange. Nallini even had a streak across her forehead from when she’d wiped away some of her sweat. She didn’t care.
We sat on the floor, sweat tracking down our faces as we stared with glazed eyes. Parushi still lay on the ground, but her previously labored breaths had become almost imperceptible as she rested peacefully.
“Is she...” Chaaya’s voice faded as she dropped a huge bag of roots onto the floor.
“Alive.” My voice was that of a much older woman. It was as dry as the residual paste that crusted in the mortar. “Thanks to Nallini.”
“Thank the Spirits.” Chaaya fell to her knees in prayer.
“Speaking of the Spirits.” Nallini went to a small trunk near a stack of neatly folded blankets. She pulled out the feathered fan she’d shown us on the first day. In the darkness of the room, the glowing green feathers cast their eerie light over the four of us.
Chaaya prayed even harder.
Nallini spread the fan wide, showing off each of the glowing feathers. She said nothing to me?—she didn’t even look at me as she flashed it in my direction?—but I knew she’d seen my doubts. And she was reminding me that she was blessed by the Spirits, not by Vishwajeet.
Nallini went to Parushi’s side and began to fan her. Parushi, who had long since fallen asleep, let out a satisfied sigh and smiled as the cool wave washed over her.
“I think this is the most cheerful I’ve ever seen her,” Nallini said.
“You just saved her life,” I said. “The least she can do is smile.”
Nallini didn’t respond; she was staring at Parushi intently. “She’s not all hard angles in this light.”
“Parushi makes sure any light that hits her accentuates her angles,” I said. “Don’t underestimate how much goodness lies in her shadows.”
“I’m not one to prejudge.” Nallini glared at me and fanned Parushi more firmly, making the white and glowing green feathers bend and twist. But then she caught sight of my intricate sari and seemed to remember whom she spoke to. Her eyes widened, and her voice returned to its usual lyrical calm. “I’m sorry. I meant to say I have no doubt you would only pick someone honorable to stand with you when you came here from your home.”
I almost allowed her apology to stand. I was the rani, after all, and she had no right to rebuke me that way.
But she spoke the truth.
“You shouldn’t apologize,” I said. “Especially not after all you’ve done for Parushi, and for me too. You’re right. We should judge people based on their actions instead of our fears. I won’t forget your wisdom, or your actions, tonight.”
“It’s not night anymore,” Chaaya chimed in.
“What?” Nallini and I stared at her in disbelief.
Chaaya gestured to the door. “The sun was rising as I made my way back here.”
“The sun? So soon?” I couldn’t believe it. Time had dragged its feet while we waited for Parushi but had sprinted since her return.
