Enlil ignores the outstretched ornament. I pocket it and rise from the dust. Cala has not reemerged from hiding. For someone so aggressive, she is easily undone by Enlil’s temper. He can throw a fit without me.
I set out from the base of the mountain. Whether I truly saw Jaya or her visit was born from my imagination, I made a promise. She believes I can prevail, so I will.
31
ASHWIN
Preparations for the wedding are everywhere. I sidestep servants carting linen baskets and flower bouquets. Rich aromas of coriander and turmeric permeate every corner. The kitchens will be bustling from now until the matrimonial feast.
The main outdoor terrace has reached full-blown chaos. Servants hang lanterns and erect tents, while others clean and set out furniture. In the Southern Isles, weddings are held at sundown and followed by a banquet under a new moon. Guests feast until all the food is devoured. According to Datu Bulan, the celebration can go on for days. Although most Lestarians do not consume meat, we will serve an array of dishes. As Gemi did not attend the meeting this morning, I hope she does not take offense to my decision to include plates of roasted lamb. Now is not the time to try her patience. I already owe her an apology for our earlier disagreement.
General Yatin and several guards patrol the gates. The soldiers’ camp is deserted; the men are on task in the city. Lokesh was escorted out quietly in a prison wagon. As of now, all is calm. By the time the people learn he was banished, the datu and navy will have arrived. I am less concerned about the mercenaries disrupting my nuptials than of those living under my roof.
Basma sits upright in her cot, her legs set in splints. Her younger sister keeps vigil at her side, drawing a picture. They go silent when I enter the infirmary.
Healer Baka wipes her hands off on her apron. “Prince Ashwin, I’m making tea. Do you care for a cup?”
“Not presently.” My belly could not withstand a drop. “I’ve come to see Basma.”
The healer drags a stool to her bedside for me. “Isn’t that kind of the prince?” She tucks Basma’s hair behind her ear and then resumes preparing the tea.
“You’re looking better, Basma.” I make a point of studying Giza’s charcoal sketch. She depicted Brac wielding his axes. “That’s very good. Have you shown him yet?” Her eyes grow and she blushes. Oh, she fancies him. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”
She adds more shading to his hair.
I rub my knees, gathering my nerves. “Girls, I have news. I’ve found you another home.”
“We’re leaving?” Basma says. “But we like it here.”
“The Sisterhood temple in Hiraani is in a green valley near the sea. Have you ever seen the open water?”
Giza sets down her charcoal stick. “I’ve drawn it.”
“The Sea of Souls is big and blue. The fine sand is powder beneath your feet, and the waves sound better up close than listening to their echo in a seashell.” I am overemphasizing the appeal of the seashore; however, viewing the extent of Basma’s injuries has confirmed my conclusion. “All the bhuta trainees are moving to a Sisterhood or Brotherhood temple. The boys will stay here in Vanhi, and you will go to Hiraani.”
“Why can we not stay?” Giza asks, pouting.
Healer Baka grinds herbs with her stone mortar and pestle while she listens. I speak over her. “In Hiraani, you will have lots of room to run and play. It’ll be a better life for you.”
My words drill into me. Is this how my mother rationalized sending me away? Did she truly think I would be better off without her?
Giza concentrates on her sketch. “Will Master Brac come?”
“We haven’t discussed it. I will send my bravest guards with you.” After I left the throne room, I messaged a brother at the temple. I still need to send word to the Hiraani priestess.
“Am I allowed to travel?” Basma asks.
We all seek Healer Baka for her recommendation.
“You can, but a healer must accompany you.” Her flat tone implies that I should not be moving anyone. I never intended for the bhuta trainees to stay. Their visit was proposed as a temporary solution. Moving them out before the wedding will free up room for our guests and verify to the people that I do not value bhuta children above their own. More important, this will give the trainees a true home.
“We could have a bonfire on the beach,” Basma says to her sister.
“I would like to swim in the sea,” replies Giza.
“Good,” I say, my gladness forged. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”
Healer Baka crushes the herbs faster, every click of the pestle against the mortar a mark of her disapproval. I add to the girls’ excitement with additional stories about the beaches and then take my leave.
Priestess Mita kneels at the altar in the palace’s small chapel. Thick trails of sandalwood incense hang in the air, and a significant pile of ash from burned sacrifices spatters the altar. Natesa must have come earlier for her daily offerings.
The priestess lowers her head to pray. I step backward to go, and she quickly stands.
“Your Majesty.”
“Pardon the interruption.” I shift on my feet, fingers twitching to swipe at my hair.
“I was just finishing. You may have the chapel to yourself.” Her tart tone speaks to her opinion of me and my need for prayers.
I wave at a floor cushion. “May I have a word before you go?”
Priestess Mita kneels again and clasps her hands in her lap. I join her on the floor, my knees bent to my chest. She scowls at my casual position.
“I’d like you to write to the Hiraani priestess. I’m sending the female bhuta trainees to her for lodging.”
“You wish to send those girls to a temple of the gods?”
“I won’t debate their value, Priestess. The Hiraani Temple is isolated in a southern valley near the sea. They’ll be under less scrutiny there.”
Her censure deepens. I hold myself taut to keep from fidgeting.
“And what of their training?” she asks.
“Suspended until I employ live-in bhuta instructors. In the interim, they will attend the temple courses with the other wards. A spiritual upbringing would do them well. I can think of no better teachers than the sisters.”
Priestess Mita snubs my flattery. “The Hiraani priestess will honor your request. But if I may, I must express a concern. Now that our temple wards will not be claimed by a benefactor, what will they do? Will the public accept them as more than servants, courtesans, and wives? What will become of them when they are no longer under your or my care?”
The ramifications of no longer relying on benefactors to take in the wards are a mighty adjustment. Without the Claiming, no man will be held responsible for their welfare. I had thought of this, which is why my plan for the ranis also includes the wards. Their participation is integral. “If you will grant me your patience a little longer, I’ll present a solution that will satisfy your worries.”
Her dubious look hints otherwise. “I’ll write the Hiraani priestess forthwith.”
I thank her and listen as she exits the chapel. I hunch over my knees and shake out my hands. During the whole of our meeting, not once did I touch my hair.
Before I go, I light incense, one stick each for Kali, Deven, and my mother. I am not in the habit of lengthy prayers, so I offer a short plea for their safety and get on my way.
Rosy sunshine warms the tiles in the corridor. The day has vanished, and I have not yet visited the nursery. Rehan must wonder what has become of me.
Nursemaid Sunsee and Rehan play on the rug in the main area. My sister raises her arms to me. I lift her and she bops my chin.
“Ashin.”
“Did you hear that?” I ask Sunsee. “She said my name.”
“So she did.” The old nursemaid’s eyes crinkle.
I bounce Rehan and she giggles. “Say Ashwin. Ash-win.”
Gemi throws open the door and stomps up to us. “What did you do?” she asks.
I pass Rehan back to the nursemaid, then lead Gemi to my childhood chamber for privacy. “I intended to speak to you,” I explain. “I understand your people don’t eat meat, but—”