“Kahini was the one who suggested I go to him.” She looked over at Damodar in his bassinet. His dark lashes rested softy against his fat cheeks, a perfect child. “To hold him in my arms at night, to rock him to sleep with a song, to feel the weight of him against my chest when I feed him . . . He’s the greatest blessing in my life. Without Kahini, he wouldn’t exist.”
I felt the same way you might feel to learn that the man you were hoping to marry has been married off to someone else, someone with greater charms than you could ever hope to possess. Nothing I could ever do for the rani could compare to what Kahini had done.
“I want you to go to the theater tonight. The raja isn’t telling me what he spends on these plays. I want you to discover exactly how much this Vishnudas Bhave is being paid and how long he will be here.”
I stared at the rani, wondering how she thought I could accomplish this.
“My husband can’t keep anything in his stomach,” she said. In India, this means that a person can’t keep their thoughts to themselves. “I need this information, Sita. If the treasury is being depleted, it will change our relationship with the British. We don’t want to need them any more than we already do.” She looked at Damodar. “He is everything to me. Someday, he will inherit this kingdom. But first there must be a kingdom to inherit.”
I won’t pretend I wasn’t nervous when everyone began preparing for bed and I was expected to put on a fresh angarkha and make my way down to the raja’s baradari. The rani had called for two of her men to escort me through the darkness, and I hoped that one of them would be Arjun, though if anyone had asked, I certainly would never have admitted to this. I waited for Kahini to leave, then changed into lavender churidars with a heavy purple cloak. When Jhalkari saw what I was doing, she raised her brows.
“By the rani or the raja’s request?”
The other women looked over to see how I would answer. “Both,” I said, since whichever answer I gave, Kahini would hear of it.
I doubted that Jhalkari believed me, but she didn’t say anything more as I fastened my holster and crossed the Durgavas. Outside, two men were waiting in the dim light of the courtyard. Their breaths formed white clouds in the bitter night air. One of them was Arjun.
“So you’re following in Kahini’s footsteps,” Arjun remarked curiously as we walked.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“She’s the only other Durgavasi who’s invited to see the raja’s rehearsals.”
“Well, this isn’t an invitation I sought out. The raja believes I’ll have something of value to add to his performances. I’m afraid he’s about to see that he’s mistaken.”
“I don’t know. I think you have more to add to people’s lives than you realize.”
I looked up at Arjun, but even in the light of the full moon, his expression was unreadable. So I changed the subject. “Do you know which play he’s rehearsing?”
“Yes. Ratnavali,” the other guard said.
“A comedy?” I exclaimed.
“The raja believes he possesses comedic genius that’s waiting to be uncovered,” Arjun said. I couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic. “Now that the rajkumar has been born, he wants happier plays.”
“And the raja’s part?”
“The princess Ratnavali. Of course.”
We arrived at the baradari, and Arjun pushed aside the heavy curtains, which had been tied between the pillars of the open-air pavilion to keep in the warmth. The raja was on stage with Adesh. They both wore wigs, but only the raja’s wig had long, silken tresses. The moment the raja saw me, he clapped his hands together.
“Sita!” he exclaimed, and a great fuss was made over my appearance. Wasn’t it nice that I had dressed in peach nagra slippers? And look how the black trim of my cloak brought out the fairness of my skin. Everyone wanted to know what I used for my hair. “It even shines in the darkness,” the raja remarked. I had to tell him I didn’t use anything special, but Adesh was certain I was concealing some trick.
“I want the three of you to sit right here,” the raja said, pointing to several cushions near the front of the stage. Kahini was occupying one of them, and when she saw that we were making our way over, she purposely got up and moved.
“Don’t be so rude,” the raja said.
“I’m not being rude,” Kahini defended herself. “I just don’t like anything around me when I’m watching a performance.”
“You mean you don’t like any other beautiful women around you.” Adesh laughed.
“Well, if that was the case, I could go back to sitting over there,” she said.
“Kahini,” the raja reprimanded, but there was playfulness in his voice, and she grinned in response.
For my part, I simply ignored the banter. But if this was what it was going to be like every night, the rani would have to forget about my coming, because it would simply be intolerable.
“We’re rehearsing Ratnavali,” the raja said. “Are you familiar with the play, Sita?”
“Yes, it’s a comedy.”