Page 20 of Scars and Crowns

There's no real anger in her tone.

Just the familiar exasperation of a mother who's delivered the same warning so many times that it's become part of the rhythm of her day.

I slow my steps without thinking.

The staff quarters are quieter than the rest of the palace, the narrow corridor lit by a row of old tube lights that hum faintly overhead.

Through the narrow gap in the door, I catch the smallest glimpse of the room inside.

It's tiny.

Far too small for two people.

A single iron bed pushed against the wall. A faded bedsheet.A few crayons scattered across the mattress. And in the middle of it all . . . A little girl.

She bounces enthusiastically on the bed as though gravity is merely a suggestion, dark curls flying wildly around her face with every jump. She's laughing so hard that she almost loses her balance before springing right back up again.

Across from her, Anamika stands with both hands on her hips.

She's trying very hard to look stern. She's failing spectacularly. Even from here, I can see the corners of her mouth fighting not to smile.

"Mumma!" the little girl protests between giggles. "I'm not that heavy!"

"Oh? Then who keeps making the bed squeak every morning?"

"It's . . . the bed's fault."

"The bed's fault?"

"Yes."

A beat.

"It started first."

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

Anamika pinches the bridge of her nose in dramatic defeat. "I don't even know how to argue with that logic."

The child beams at her as though she's just won an important debate. I don't realize I'm smiling until my cheeks begin to hurt. It catches me off guard.

For the first time since I saw Anamika in my study yesterday . . . The ache eases.

Only a little. Just enough for something softer to settle in its place.

My eyes drift back to the little girl.

Sara.

The name fits her somehow.

Bright.

Playful.

Impossible to contain.

She has Anamika's smile. The same unfiltered joy that always arrived before caution had the chance to interrupt. I wait for something unpleasant to surface inside me.