Unless she was detecting a lie, Biju preferred to live out her existence as a marvelous garland of polished emerald stones carved into the likeness of real snake scales. Sometimes she switched to sapphire. Once, she was even ruby. But green was her favorite color. Last week Vikram had called her “exceedingly predictable.” She had responded by coiling into a vise around his arm. Her way of saying: You tell a lie.
Vikram started each of his mornings with a lie. And every day, it was the same lie. He would stand in front of his mirror and say, “Today, she is ready.” And every day, Biju would tighten into a vise, which assured him that he should hope for no such thing.
Today, like every day for the past two full moons, had been no exception.
After returning from Alaka, he thought he had sated his hunger for wonder, but something still growled in need within him. He glanced out the window. Morning had barely touched Ujijain. Shadows hugged half of the city. Once the city bells rang out, he would begin his endless procession of meetings. It was a routine that gave him comfort. The meetings, the research, the debate. The fact that after all this time, his voice finally mattered. He had a purpose and a place. He even enjoyed complaining about his sore feet and his headaches, but suspected that the novelty would soon wear off.
Vikram set off for the Menagerie, but he had hardly walked five steps down the hall when a voice called out: “Your Majesty!”
It took him a moment to realize he was being addressed. He was still getting used to his new title. “Emperor” tasted too weighty and bittersweet on his tongue. He stopped walking, allowing a fresh-faced courtier to catch up to him.
“May I walk in your shadow, Your Majesty?”
You used to run from it.
“Of course,” he said, sweeping the air like an invitation. The courtier fell into step beside him.
“It was an honor to hear you speak at last week’s assembly.”
Oh, you were listening? When I saw your head thrown back and drool falling from your mouth, I thought otherwise. My sincerest apologies.
“I’m grateful you listened.”
“I only wish that we had the opportunity to be enlightened by your intelligence earlier.”
“I gave you multiple opportunities.”
The color drained from the courtier’s face. “Your Majesty, I did not mean to remind you of such … irresponsibility and ignorance from the council in the past.”
Yourself included.
“But surely, Your Majesty, you saw how the council changed the day you returned. You astounded them. They were awed.”
“Showing up with an Otherworldly treasure tends to do that.”
Two full moons ago, he had returned to Ujijain and walked straight into a council meeting with nothing but the enchanted document in his hand and Biju around his neck. His wish had been for all who looked upon the document to recognize his potential, but it had the unpredicted benefit of allowing all who looked at the piece of parchment to see potential not just in Vikram, but also themselves. He told them about his travels in the Otherworld, demonstrating the truth with Biju. Little by little, his circumstances changed. Half the council credited Vikram’s monthlong disappearance into the Otherworld as the reason he had risen to power and shrugged off the puppet ruler title. The other half credited themselves for finally noticing the Prince’s “remarkable mind.”
“I suppose you’re right, Your Majesty,” said the courtier. “However … I do believe that even without magic, they would have changed their mind. I’ve read your reports in the past, and you always provided the most creative solutions.”
Vikram looked at the courtier a little more closely. “What’s your name?”
“Chandresh.”
“And who are you?”
Chandresh mulled over his response. “I was a fool of the highest pedigree before Your Majesty’s return. I am the courtier who sleeps through most meetings. I’m also the courtier who provides the best feedback. I closely read the meeting’s notes after.”
Vikram grinned. “Intriguing. I would be interested in speaking to you after the meeting. Or your nap, as it were.”
“I would be honored, Your Majesty.”
The courtier bowed at the hip, and left him in the hall. Vikram watched him go, and a cautious happiness flooded him. Perhaps he was on his way to forging alliances within the empire. He was still learning how to navigate his way through politics now that the novelty of Kubera’s gifts had worn off. The realm still murmured about the Otherworldly games where he had disappeared to for a month, but it was mostly rumor. Most believed he had returned to the ashram and observed the strictest of penances in order to succeed to the throne. Only the council—six men, half of whom wore the shadow of death and the other half of whom were so skilled in lying that not even their wives believed them—had seen his magical demonstration. Their word was the only one that counted. Once he had won their allegiance—or frightened it out of them, more like—he hadn’t seen the need to continue impressing people with the enchanted document. The only thing he found indispensable was Biju. Conversations were far more efficient when lying was impossible.
Vikram stopped in front of the Menagerie and knocked twice. “Father?”
A growl echoed inside the room. “Come in!”
Vikram stepped through and quickly shut the door. The leopard, Urvashi, kept pushing her head against the wooden frame.
“I was thinking I might let her roam around the palace,” said Pururavas, waddling to the door. “She’s become so restless.”
“Roam around the palace?”
“With a leash.”
“With an armed guard.”
Pururavas gasped. “Do you think someone would try to hurt her?”
Vikram stared. “Father, I think sometimes you are too innocent.”
“But that is a yes to letting her roam?” said his father. “That decision falls to you.”
“I’ll consider it.” Urvashi glared at him reproachfully. “Perhaps we could make her a new courtyard. Put things she can jump off of. She does have a tendency to climb.” He pointed at the tables that had been stacked upon one another as a perch for the leopard.
Pururavas nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you thought to visit. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”
Vikram braced himself. He knew that his father’s question could only be about one of two things … either Gauri or his marriage prospects.
“You fled with the Princess.”
One out of two.
“I did. And she’s not a princess anymore. She’s the Queen of Bharata.”
When he spoke the last words, pride glowed in his voice. He couldn’t help it.
“And she was with you during this … tournament.”
Pururavas couldn’t make himself say any words about magic even though he had seen the wonders Vikram brought home.
“Yes, she was,” said Vikram. And then his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been talking about this to anyone, have you, Father? Only you know she was with me.”