I considered carefully. I had risen in Dasharath’s esteem after he learned the truth, and after my conversation with Asha, I thought it possible that I had misjudged the Ayodhyan court as a whole. Perhaps his advisors would like me better if they knew what I had done. But I also knew how fragile my connections with all of them were, and experience had taught me that lying was considered more unbecoming on a woman than on a man. “No, Raja. That is not necessary.”
“Would you have told me? Had I not surmised the truth?”
“I don’t know,” I said. But of course, I would not have.
Dasharath made a small humming noise. “Are you afraid of me? Is that why you lied?”
I studied him, injured on the bed. Was I afraid of him? I was certainly afraid of the power he held over me, and perhaps before today I had feared him. But just now, when he gave me two unrestricted boons, he had made himself vulnerable. I might order him to make me his chief radnyi or to abdicate the throne, and he would be forced to obey. Those were the laws of the gods, and while they may not have ever governed me, they certainly still governed Dasharath. I thought, improbably, of Ahalya. Had she possessed a boon from her husband, she would not have been turned to stone. I had power too now.
“That’s not why I lied,” I said at last.
Dasharath laughed and his body folded over in pain. “You’re witty,” he said when he had recovered. “I had never noticed that about you before. But you did not fully answer my question.”
You’re smart. I had never noticed that about you before, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue. “Perhaps I once was afraid. When you came to Kekaya and sought my hand, I was certainly afraid of you then. Not anymore.”
His fingers found my own in an oddly comforting gesture. “I was the supplicant then. You had no reason to fear me.”
“I had no choice in the matter. You and my father and my brother made all the decisions. I had no part in it. No part in determining my own future. Of course, I feared that. I did not know what kind of man you were, did not know what kind of husband you would be.”
“And what sort of husband have I proven myself?” he asked.
“A fair one,” I said without hesitation. “And kind.”
“I could do worse.” His thumb stroked my hand.
“You could,” I agreed.
“But is that what you wanted?” he asked after a moment. “A fair and kind husband?”
“Isn’t that what every woman wants?”
“I asked what you wanted,” Dasharath said with a grin. “I hope you learn to answer my questions directly one day.”
“Very well,” I conceded. Manthara had instructed me to trust my instincts, and my instincts had led me true so far. Given the strength of the cord between Dasharath and myself, I thought I could risk this. “I did want a kind and fair man. And I wanted more than that. I wanted to be able to speak my mind and make decisions for myself. To be trusted by my husband, to have responsibility beyond child-rearing.”
Dasharath’s expression grew serious. “And what responsibility do you desire?”
“A seat on your council,” I said, before I could convince myself not to say it.
He gave a slight laugh at that. But our golden bond shimmered as though lit with sunlight, and I realized his amusement did not come at my expense. “Might I ask why a radnyi would need to sit on the Mantri Parishad?”
“I—” My truthful answer—that I mistrusted men and wanted my own independence—would likely offend him, but neither did I want to start such a momentous step with a lie.
My hesitation was obvious to him. “What is it? I promise I will not make light, whatever your reasons.”
As I searched for what to say, I thought of the marketplace I had seen with Manthara. The women there were capable, some perhaps more so than the men who ran the stalls. “I want to help others,” I answered at last.
“Do you feel my council does not already do that?” His tone was curious, not defensive.
“You help some of the kingdom,” I conceded. “But there are others who might benefit if they had someone to champion their interests.”
To his credit, he understood immediately. “Other women, you mean to say.”
“Yes.” I met his gaze and found no judgment. “I would help them however I might.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” I asked, too quickly. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your question.”
“You are free to do what you please from now on, and your situation is far removed from your serving girl’s.”
He had a good point, and my thoughts on the matter were as of yet half-formed. But the more I thought about what I had seen, the less sense it made. “It is possible to want something for others too. Is that not my responsibility as radnyi? They are also your subjects, and they are capable.”
Dasharath was silent, and I hesitated to look at our connection. But when at last I did, I found it swaying only slightly, as though in a contented breeze. “And to that end, you want a seat on the council.”
“I would not ask you to change things on a whim or without consideration, for I know that you will undertake to do so only when you are satisfied it is truly best for the kingdom. But on your council, I might be able to prove to you that change could benefit us all. So yes.” I kept hold of his gaze.
“Would you ask that of me? As one of your boons?”
“No,” I said at once. I would not use up so precious a gift mere moments after receiving it, and I did not have to. “Now that you know this is my dear wish, I would ask it of you as your wife. If you feel I have proven myself, then it would be in your own interests to trust me, to consult me as an equal, would it not?”
He looked at me, and for once I let him see the true Kaikeyi. No averted, soft eyes, but as much fierce flint as I could muster.
An eternity passed in nervous silence, and then Dasharath closed his eyes. His lips tugged upward into a smile. “Six months we have been married. Six months. And you reside in your rooms, only attend court when summoned, seem a shy recluse. And here you are, a warrior, a woman who wishes to be made an advisor.”
My cheeks burned hot. I did not think he intended to shame me. And yet, like Yudhajit’s accidental barbs that had marked my childhood, his words stung. “I am sorry. I meant no offense.”
“No, I am sorry. I have done little to ease your transition to Ayodhya, preoccupied as I was with Sambarasura and other matters. I will grant your wish, allow you access to my Mantri Parishad. But in return, you must promise me something.”
I took a deep breath before I spoke. It helped, giving me time to bury the urge to agree immediately no matter the terms. “What would you ask of me?”
“That you actually talk to Kaushalya and Sumitra, and that you properly fulfill your duties as my wife. I am granting you an unconventional request, but you must obey convention too.”
The request was reasonable and, perhaps, a way to finally end my seclusion. A seat on the council would be worthless if I remained in hiding the rest of the time. “Yes, Raja. We have an agreement.”
He took my hand in his again even as he closed his eyes, and his thumb moved in slow circles. I covered his hand with my own, stopping the movement so that he knew he could rest. He did not pull away, and neither did I, content to sit in the comfortable silence until his breaths deepened and he slipped into a healing sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WE RETURNED TO THE palace one week later, when Dasharath was well enough to travel. There was a huge feast in honor of the victory, and I sat at Dasharath’s right hand. It was a joy to have a palace-cooked meal, and even more of a joy to lie on my bed. I slept for half a day and woke feeling ready to start the work Dasharath had set for me.