“You could sense earlier when I tried to use my ability on you, yes?” I asked. He nodded. “Tell me what you feel right now.” I found the brightest, strongest bond and sent an aimless thrum of energy at it, not changing or suggesting anything, but trying to merely sound it out.
“My wife,” he said instantly. “Mandodari. Whatever you did, I am now thinking quite strongly about her. You would like her. She’s brilliant and beautiful and a great asset to our kingdom. I love her so—” He frowned. “I think that is your influence, pulling this out of me.”
“Amazing,” I said, hardly able to believe it. “If you would permit me, I would like to try something regarding someone you do not care for very much.”
“Not my wife, then,” he said immediately.
“No, no.” My eyes fell upon a very fine green floss. “Who is this?” I plucked it just barely.
“I am picturing a stranger I met on my travels a few years ago. We both camped in the same cave for a night, when it rained.”
“He is of no matter to you?” I asked.
“None. I had not thought of him since that night.”
“Lovely,” I said, and focused on the bond, feeding it with energy. Before my eyes, it swelled to twice, then thrice its size.
“I liked him,” Ravana told me thoughtfully. The bond quavered, and I could not calm it. My mind’s grasp slid from it again and again. “I liked him immensely. Should I have offered him a position in Lanka?”
I sent one final push, but it was too much. The bond frayed and snapped even as I tried to prevent it, the two ends crumbling like ash just as had happened to my bond with Neeti so many years ago.
“No. I hate him.” Ravana sounded bemused. “I have no idea why, but I do. Did you change something? Is this usual for your workings?”
I blinked, and my shoulders sagged with exhaustion. I let the Binding Plane drop away, and the gray veil lifted. Color snapped back in the world, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.
What was the strange, colorless place I had just been? I looked around, disoriented for a few moments, before the realization hit me. That world was the Binding Plane—truly another world, a half step from our own. In the past, I had glimpsed only a small part of it, seeing only my own connections. But this was the true Plane, foreign and wondrous. Already I could not fathom that I had been so ignorant.
But using it was difficult. When I had been a girl and had first discovered the threads, using them would leave me feeling like I had sprinted the length of the palace thrice over. I had grown comfortable, complacent with time. And now I could hardly stand.
I would have to strengthen myself all over again for this new world.
I looked up at Ravana and realized he was waiting for an answer. “Not usual. I have never done such a thing before. And it is you who are most unusual. You are the first to have been able to discern any of my workings. I had never thought that possible until meeting you. Thank you for allowing me to experiment in such a way. This scroll is very valuable.” I held it to my chest, a sense of wonderment energizing me.
“I am half-rakshasa,” Ravana admitted. “That is how I can feel your magic. And why I have some immunity to it. Radnyi Kaikeyi, you should keep the scroll. Keep all of them. You have a talent.”
“You hardly know me,” I protested. “Why would you give me such a gift?”
He said simply, “I think it incredible that anybody in our world can harness magic. I am happy to do my part in helping yours.” Through our bond, I could feel he told the truth.
“A raja cannot be so altruistic,” I warned him, because I liked him and did not wish to take advantage of his kindness.
“Perhaps. You have shared your secret with me, so I will do the same. What if I were to tell you that I wish for magic in the world, because I hope it can move us out from under the thumb of those with more power?”
“You mean the gods?” I whispered, as though they were not capable of hearing every conversation among mortals.
“Their rules hold us back, do they not?” Ravana shrugged, as though he was not speaking complete blasphemy. But my stomach clenched, for if we were overheard—or if the gods took notice—we would suffer greatly, royalty or not. “My kingdom is constantly punished for every improvement we make, every step we take toward healing and science. I am going to Lord Shiva to beg him to spare us, to let us go forward and bring others into enlightenment as we see fit.”
“What are you talking about?” I hissed. “The gods—” I wanted to say always have our best interests at heart, but my mouth said, “protect us.”
He stepped toward me. “Are you sure about that? Then why should they punish me for progress? Or you, or anyone else for that matter?”
I moved toward the door, studiously ignoring his question, for I did not want to admit what it stirred inside me. Some part of me heard Ravana’s words and recognized truth.
But it was all too much. A whole world had just opened up to me, and with it, opportunities I did not yet fully understand.
Maybe Ravana had a grander vision for the future. But he was a man, and could dream like that. This new Binding Plane, the potential of the present—that was enough for me.
“I am still not sure I can take the scrolls from you,” I said. “It does not seem fair.”
He sighed. “All right. Let us simply say that in exchange for the scrolls you owe me a favor, should it be in your power to give it, and leave it there.”
The symbolism of the gesture felt right.
“Thank you, Raja Ravana. I truly hope one day I can repay you.” I clutched the scrolls to my heart and left his rooms, wondering what favor I could possibly ever grant him. But I quickly put it out of my mind: I doubted our paths would ever cross again, and I had other things to concern myself with.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THANKS TO RAVANA’S INCREDIBLE gift, the whole world opened up to me in a burst of color. I learned how to view all of the Binding Plane at once and lost myself for hours in the brilliant webs. Thin skeins of orange and red created tracks of fire around the palace, while threads of blues and greens sent beautiful rivers through every part of the court. Against the faded gray hues my surroundings took on when I entered the Binding Plane, the bonds and connections stood out ever more brightly. The Plane had its own landscape, and I came to feel like its god.
But one problem remained that couldn’t be solved with the Binding Plane. As the weeks went by and I went again and again to my husband’s bed, my moon cycle did not change. Every moon I bled, and every moon I failed to produce an heir.
In the privacy of my own room, I worried over the many possibilities for my childlessness. My occasional evening horseback rides. My work in the Binding Plane.
My divine abandonment.
Hardest to bear was the disappointment of Kaushalya and Sumitra. Kaushalya especially had given up on the idea that she would ever bear the raja a child, and I had come to consider her a true friend. Letting her down filled me with shame, and sadness at causing her such pain. Despite all my maneuverings in becoming Dasharath’s bride, I was now a worthless third queen.
When Dasharath summoned me to his chambers nearly fifteen moons after my move to Ayodhya, I delayed as long as possible. Just the idea of trying again twisted up my insides. Manthara forced me out the door, reminding me that no matter how I felt about it, Dasharath was my raja and I had to obey.
My treacherous feet bore me forward even as my mind protested. I stood outside his rooms, considering for a fleeting moment using my influence over Dasharath to make him forget his desires. Finally, I lifted my hand to knock. The door swung open before I even touched it, and Sumitra’s cheerful face peered out at me.
I blinked. Did Dasharath now want two of us at a time?
“Here she is! No need to send a servant out to find her,” Sumitra said, beckoning me inside. I followed her through the chambers.