The years had aged all of us, but Dasharath remained vital as ever, laboring each day to ensure the kingdom’s prosperity. While he did not ride out to fight anymore, there was hardly any occasion for it—the villages and tribes to the north had been completely folded into our kingdom under Dasharath’s reign, and the southwest of Kosala had become more settled and therefore less hospitable to bandit encampments.
Kaushalya had retained her serene elegance and biting wit and still masterfully followed all the inner workings of the court and palace. And Sumitra’s constant cheerful wisdom was a balm, her laugh lines only accentuating her beauty.
I did not know what the others saw when they looked at me, or what they thought my governing quality might be, but I knew that my hard edges and raw ambition had softened with time.
“Who did you have in mind?” Kaushalya asked, pulling me out of my musings.
“King Janaka of Videha is holding a swayamvara in his capital of Mithila for his daughter Sita. She is rumored to be a girl of great beauty and compassion. And Janaka and his brothers have other fine daughters besides. If Rama wins Sita’s hand, there is no reason we cannot bind Kosala and Videha with several ties of marriage.”
Videha. It was a powerful kingdom to our east and had long been our ally. Although smaller than Kosala in size, it was renowned for its cultivation of spices and therefore highly prosperous. This would indeed be a strong match.
“You should all prepare to travel within one moon,” Dasharath said. “Rama and Lakshmana will meet us there, and I expect we will not leave until there has been a wedding.”
Mithila, the capital of Videha, was located at the base of the mountains. Its deep swathes of forest and crisp, clean air sent a sharp pang of longing through me, for it resembled the landscape of my childhood. But unlike in Kekaya, the people of the Videhan court wore the same dress and practiced the same customs as those in Kosala.
We were among the first to arrive for the swayamvara. Raja Janaka had invited Dasharath to discuss matters of state beforehand. Whoever married Sita would likely take the throne of Videha, and Dasharath wanted to ensure that if it was not Rama, Kosala’s alliance would still be secure.
Secretly, I had no doubt it would be my son. I had heard a rumor that Janaka had convinced Lord Shiva himself to provide his bow for the swayamvara. The suitor who could lift the Shiva Dhanush, string it, and shoot an arrow from it would win Sita’s hand in marriage. It was the kind of challenge that would live on in stories and in song, outlasting any mortal heart. Rama had grown into a warrior capable of slaying rakshasas unaided, and he had his divinity besides. I did not know what man could match him.
The palace was busy with preparations for the swayamvara, so one afternoon, while Janaka and Dasharath held council and Kaushalya and Sumitra took rest in their rooms, I decided to walk down to the stables. Even if I could not ride here, I always enjoyed spending time with horses.
Along the way, I passed a girl dressed in the garb of a servant. She hurried past me up the path toward the castle, and I stopped to watch her go, for she carried herself quite gracefully. In fact, there was something familiar about her…
“Sita?” I called. She froze, and I knew I was right. “Yuvradnyi Sita. We met at the welcome feast.”
Slowly she turned back around. “Radnyi Kaikeyi, how good to see you again. Please, pardon my rudeness.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to pardon. Were you visiting the stables?”
She bit her lip, but nodded. “I like to ride out in the mornings. When I can. To pray.” Sita was quite pretty, with long black hair woven in a thick braid, shining black eyes, and a full mouth. But she had been given away by the stripe of luminous silver running through the front of her hair and the tiny flower-shaped birthmark at the corner of her right eye. Not a face one forgot easily.
“I see. Are you very devout?” I asked. “I’ve never heard of prayer on horseback.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth as if horrified that the sound had slipped out. “I think I am. I pray every day, many times, to many gods.”
I think I am, she had said. Someone who prayed many times a day to many gods was certainly devout, unless—“And do the gods listen?”
She took a step back from me. “What a strange thing to ask.”
I blinked into the Binding Plane, but we had only a slip of silver string between us. That would not work. I smiled at her, a small smile of commiseration. “What you said reminded me of myself when I was your age.” I paused, but something compelled me onward. “The gods have forsaken me as well,” I said gently.
Sita looked around as if worried someone might be spying on us. She took several steps closer, then whispered, “Do you know of the circumstances of my birth?”
I shook my head, mystified.
“My father found me buried in the earth. He was plowing the land, praying for the famine that had befallen Videha to end, when his plow stuck fast. My father began to dig out the plow and found me enfolded beneath the dirt. He said to survive there, I must have been gods-touched. Except it can’t be true. The gods never listen to me, and now I am to be married, and how can I be married if the gods are blind to my existence?” She burst into tears. “The gods must give their blessing to all marriages.”
I stood for a moment, shocked into silence. Buried in the earth? Though I had heard of many improbable wonders, even I had never heard of a child surviving in the ground. But as she continued to cry, she looked so miserable, so lost, that my instincts took over. “Calm down. Breathe.” She took a shallow, shaky breath. “Another. Another.” Finally, she took a deep, even breath and nodded her head.
“I’m sorry. That was unseemly.”
“Do not worry yourself. I understand,” I told her, rubbing her back. “As I said, I felt the same way once.”
“You were buried in the earth too?” she asked, and I pulled away in surprise. Then I noticed her shy smile and gave a small chuckle.
“When I was a girl, my brothers would pray for good aim and then hit a perfect bull’s-eye. My father would pray for rains and they would come the next day. But it seemed that whenever I prayed for something, nearly the opposite would happen.” The words inspired far less pain than I had expected. They were simply a fact now.
Her face crumpled, and I thought she might cry again. But when she said, “That’s exactly what happens to me,” her voice was remarkably steady.
“I have a marriage,” I told her. “A marriage in which I am loved and trusted. Without the help of the gods.” My disinterest in the marital bed and my lack of desire for Dasharath did not matter. I loved him like I would love a dear friend, and he had never caused me pain. For a woman, even in our new world, that was more than plenty.
“But how? If the gods have forsaken me, then how will my marriage be real?”
I sighed. Of all the things I had learned about Sita prior to our arrival, no one had mentioned the girl’s apparently rigid piousness. “You said it is your father who claims you are gods-touched?”
“Yes.”
“The truth about the gods-touched is that they cannot be influenced by the magic of the gods. Their power cannot sway us, for we have a higher purpose.”
“What is my purpose?” Her eyes held a hunger, one I recognized.
“I cannot guess your purpose,” I said. But I had very strong suspicions. If she was gods-touched, then she was probably intended to be Rama’s bride and his queen and, in that way, would serve her purpose. It would be ideal for Rama to have a wife he could not instantly read, to have a wife he could not compel to obey.
“What is yours?” she asked. “Have you completed it yet?”
I shook my head. “That I also do not know.”
Her face fell. “I see.”
“But that does not mean you cannot make your own purpose,” I said quickly, for as a child it would have been a blessing to hear from someone also forsaken by the gods that I could be more. Could aspire to greatness. “I am Raja Dasharath’s saciva.” This time, I smiled with all my teeth, sharp and predatory and not like a proper radnyi at all. She would need a fire in her belly too, if she wanted to thrive as Rama’s wife.