I longed to race off farther down the path, to race away into the distance, to some unknown future. Instead, I obeyed Ashwasen’s parameters, finishing a loop in barely a minute.
“The left back wheel is indeed loose,” I said as I carefully hopped down.
Kaikeyi is an excellent charioteer, I told him in our connection, watching as the thought raced along the relaxed curve of the bond like a reflection on polished wood.
The fifth evening, the Master of Horses sought me out by asking Asha to relay a message to me. I met him barely an hour later, buoyant and eager, and he handed me the reins of the chariot, already prepared for riding.
“Try a few maneuvers,” he said. “I wish to watch.”
He had attached two powerful Madhuvan bays to the chariot in a field at the edge of camp. I set them into motion with just a flick of my wrist, then pulled them to a quick stop. A fierce grin spread across my face at their responsiveness. I could not erase it as I imagined a battlefield before me. Instincts from the obstacle courses Yudhajit and I once raced through came rushing back, and I urged them forward, riding down soldiers separated from the pack. Then I brought the horses to a sudden halt so the raja could launch a spear. The moment he let it fly, I brought the horses into a tight circle, fleeing from an enemy chariot bearing down upon us. I slowed our pace while they were in pursuit, so they passed us, turning from hunters into hunted. Then, with a cry, I urged the horses to charge down the gap. I imagined Dasharath leaning out of the chariot and carving through enemies with his khanda.
I lost myself in the feeling of movement, of power, until a familiar voice pierced through my happiness. “Kaikeyi?”
Dasharath.
I pulled the horses to a halt. In the Binding Plane, our golden thread vibrated dangerously. I dismounted, windswept and sweating, nearly stumbling in my haste, and dipped into a shaky bow.
“Raja.”
The bond between us jittered. I focused on sending waves of calming energy across our link, though I was hardly calm myself.
In that moment, it occurred to me that perhaps I had been misusing the Plane in Ayodhya. In Kekaya, where all my bonds had once been solid and sure, it was easy to send suggestions and accomplish my goals—so that was all I did. But I did not have that luxury here. So perhaps I could instead try to strengthen the bond ever so slightly rather than use it to influence. It would not help me immediately, but over time…
My mind rushed with adrenaline, crystallizing the idea. And as the bond between me and Dasharath began to quiet, I suddenly noticed a third thread, fully unconnected to me.
I blinked, and it disappeared. I blinked again, and it reappeared, more solid than before.
A thick maroon cable connected Dasharath and the Master of Horses. As I focused my attention upon it, Dasharath turned to Ashwasen, who was smiling smugly.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. His face was thunderous.
“Your radnyi comes from a kingdom renowned for their riders and their war horses. I sought to consult her on such matters, to ensure everything was in order for you,” he lied. Their bond was the width of a forearm and rippled with vitality. Clearly, they held each other in high esteem.
Could I manipulate that cord? I wondered. Even though it is not connected to me?
“And why is the radnyi driving a chariot?” Dasharath demanded. I tried to grasp their cord with my mind, but it slipped away from me, disappearing for good.
“She has a talent for it. You watched her just as I did. Do you not agree, my raja?” He was far more brazen than I could ever be. I hid my amusement as Dasharath opened and closed his mouth, unable to find a response.
Finally, he turned to me. “Where did you learn to drive like that?” he asked.
“My brother Yudhajit,” I said, averting my eyes in a poor facsimile of humility. Our golden cord had fully calmed, so I knew there was little danger of it breaking. “When I was a child, he included me in his games and lessons. I apologize if I have caused you any offense.”
“Offense?” Dasharath closed his eyes. “You drive better than my own charioteer.”
“Thank you,” I said demurely, hoping my triumphant pleasure was not evident in my face.
“You were looking to replace him,” said the Master of Horses. “I think you have found your match.” He walked out toward the chariot and began unhooking the team, as if the discussion had already ended.
“My match,” Dasharath repeated, as if pondering the words. And then, “I do not wish to ask you to risk your life for me.” I met his eyes, and there was no anger there. “The heat of battle is no place for a woman. You would not be wielding a weapon—the gods forbid that, and we would not disobey them—but it is still dangerous. But Ashwasen is right. You are excellent. Would you be my charioteer?”
“I accept.” I had to force myself to modulate my voice. I did not think my husband would appreciate my shouting with excitement. “Yes. I will gladly stay by your side.” As I said the words, the thread between us thickened into a chain of metal, and the smile that crept onto my face was entirely genuine.
The following evenings, Ashwasen had me put through my paces, conscripting other soldiers on horseback so I might practice formations. The men all respected Dasharath so deeply that if they were surprised at their raja’s decision, they did not show it or question it. They approached the task with discipline and rigidity.
Despite the rigors of the tiring practice, on the appointed day of battle I woke before Dasharath—before even Asha lifted the flap of my tent. She had somehow managed to procure a set of men’s breeches and armor, and we had spent the past two days furiously fitting them to my body.
I slipped them on and beamed. I could finally move comfortably.
When I had made the request, I worried that my bond with her would fray from my unladylike conduct. Instead, it had grown stronger.
“You look excellent, my lady,” she said now. “It suits you.”
“It suits me?” I repeated. Sumitra had said something quite similar just a week ago. Was Asha mocking me as well? Had I judged her too highly? But when I checked the Binding Plane, I found no evidence of the cloudiness of deceit that I had come to recognize on some cords.
“I only meant you wear it well. Not that you are suited to men’s clothing. My apologies. You look excellent in anything.” Her voice and face painted a picture of perfect sincerity.
“You have done a masterful job on this in such a short time,” I said by way of apology. “Perhaps when we return to Ayodhya you might create a similar suit for me, in a more feminine material? They can be my riding clothes.”
“You would wear breeches in the city?” Asha looked me up and down, and I tried not to show any traces of self-consciousness.
“I would wear breeches that look to others like normal women’s clothing. If you are up to such a task.”
Asha was missing a front tooth and unafraid to show it in her smile. “Very well, my lady. Survive the battle and I will make you breeches.”
“Sambarasura is a minor warlord,” I scoffed. “I am not afraid of him.”
In truth, he was more than that. He had carved a small kingdom for himself, which took willpower and steel at the very least. But there was no room for me to let fear in here.
She shook her head. “Do not underestimate him, my lady. I have heard he is a formidable warrior.” She bent her head. “Lord Vishnu, please protect Radnyi Kaikeyi and Raja Dasharath and the armies of Kosala. Allow the righteous to prevail.”
I gazed at her bent head. Would prayers made for me fall into the same empty void as prayers made by me? Only Manthara had ever mentioned praying for me, so I had no way of knowing. But I appreciated Asha’s sentiment all the same.