He laughed. My heart lightened. I hadn’t heard Arjun laugh in what felt like centuries. Everything in Bharata was something to experience all over. I felt as if I I were relearning the friends that been my family. It was not unlike practicing with the sword in my hand, going through the movements that I had taken for granted. And like a new muscle, it ached.
We sparred for nearly an hour before a trumpet sounded, signaling the arrival of one of my courtiers. I dropped the practice sword and reached for the red silk glove. After that first night in Bharata, I limited the number of people who saw the glass hand. People hungered after what they didn’t know and couldn’t see, and I liked the enigma and mystery of it. My people made up their own tales, claiming that it was a mark of magic or a sign of transparency. They said that it would turn red whenever someone had a murderous thought and that when I looked into the glass palm, I could watch my citizens. I liked their stories far better than the truth.
“Your Majesty,” called the courtier. “There is a woman who is knocking on the gates of Bharata demanding to see you.”
Arjun touched his sword. “What did my men make of her? Does she seem like a threat to the Queen’s life?”
“The men thought she…” The courtier trailed off, bright spots of color lighting up his cheeks.
I smiled. I knew who was at the gate.
*
A month later, Aasha leaned out the window, propping her chin in her palms and sighing loudly. In the second month of my reign, Aasha had showed up outside the city gates demanding that I fulfill my promise of a place in my palace. In the first week of her arrival, she’d foiled two assassination attempts simply by sniffing out the thoughts of whatever nobleman or noblewoman wished to meet with me.
“Can we go outside?” she asked. “This tires me.”
Shock lit up half my attendants’ faces. Aasha was one of the few people who never simpered. She didn’t know how and didn’t care to learn. Dismissing the attendants, I joined her on the balcony. The garden had grown lush and green in the three months since I’d pulled up the courtyard by the roots and started anew. I never walked along the paths. There were too many reminders tucked into the perfume of those blossoms. When I walked through the gardens, the reminder that something—someone—was missing from my life was impossible to ignore. I thought I saw him in every lean shadow splayed across the ground. I thought I heard him in every laughing fountain. When I came back to Bharata, it had been easier to push aside the ache of missing him, because I dedicated every moment to the restructuring of Bharata. But now I had settled into a rhythm. Every day looked a little more normal. I was even getting better at sparring with my left arm. Which meant there were too many moments where the absence of him gnawed at my heart.
“I know you’re tired, but no, we can’t go outside,” I said. “I have papers to review.”
Aasha frowned. “But you want to go outside.”
Groaning, I covered my head with my hands, as if that would somehow stop my wants from betraying me.
“You also want to see him.”
“Go away.”
She leaned a little closer, sniffing me. “And you want food. Why do you always want food?”
“Please stop.”
“Why don’t you see him?”
“Because I’m busy!” I said, flicking a dead insect off the windowpane.
Aasha raised an eyebrow. “Lie.”
“I will. Soon. I think,” I hedged. “He never sent back a present after I gave him that crown.”
Folding her arms, Aasha stared at me as if I had just announced that I was handing over the throne and taking up a new career in professional flicking-dead-insects-off-windowpanes.
“What is the word you taught me yesterday when I bit the rose that stung me?”
Yesterday, a handsome nobleman had left a scarlet rose for Aasha. She’d picked it up only for one of the thorns to prick her thumb. Growling, Aasha had bit the head off the rose. The nobleman ran in the other direction.
I sighed. “The word was ‘petty.’”
“Ah. Yes. That is you.”
What if the past two months of ruling had changed him and he was just happy with the gradual unthawing of the diplomatic relations and nothing else? Wouldn’t he have sent some sign? Then again, I did say to stay away … but why would he stay away for that long? Wasn’t the wooden crown a clear indication that I wanted to see him? I hated boys.
“What’s that other word you like?” asked Aasha.
“I like a lot of words.”
“True, but the word you use whenever you talk about someone for whom the desires in your mind turn to slow torture or a wish for their mouth to fall off their faces?”
“‘Fool’?”
“Yes!” said Aasha brightly. “That is also you.”
“You are the worst friend.”
“That is not what your mind is saying.”
“Stop reading it!”
Aasha rolled her eyes, and the blue star on her throat disappeared.
“Happy?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I do not need the Blessing to see that you are lying.”
I was going to argue when the throne room doors were thrown back. I glanced at the sun, still high in the sky. Today, the Ujijain delegates wished to meet with me personally, but I hadn’t been expecting their visit so soon.
Aasha pulled a silk head scarf over her face and around her neck just as the bright blue star glinted back into being. A group of Ujijain delegates entered the room, walking single-file and dressed in their finest crimson insignia. Aasha touched my shoulder: a sign that they came with no harm for me in their thoughts. But then her fingers tightened and her brows scrunched in alarm. Not a threat to my life. Something else. My thoughts flew to Vikram. Had something happened to him that the delegates knew and hadn’t revealed immediately?
“Your Majesty,” they said, bowing.
I walked back to my throne and sank into the seat.
“Welcome.”
“Your Highness, Emperor Vikramaditya is pleased that your kingdom has been so gracious and amenable as we seek an alliance between our two realms. We wish to strengthen that bond.”
My heart raced. I knew what a strengthened alliance between two kingdoms could be: a proposal of marriage.
“He hopes that you might be amenable to a discussion in four days’ time when his official coronation takes place.”
“Four days?” I repeated, frowning. He hadn’t given me much time to travel. It took three days to travel to Ujijain. Unless he hadn’t wanted to invite me. Or worse, unless he had forgotten until the last moment. I didn’t know which pummeled my heart more.
The diplomat nodded. “He would be honored by your presence. Or by a delegation. Whichever Your Majesty sees fit to send. As our nations work together, we also hope that you will be in attendance for the Emperor’s future wedding.”
Now my heart froze. “Wedding? To whom?”
“His Majesty has yet to choose a bride.”
“But there have been invitations for marriage discussions sent out to prospective brides?” I asked. I should have forced myself to keep quiet and not reveal so much obvious interest, but I couldn’t help it.
“Yes,” said the diplomat.
I let this information sit. Vikram was choosing a bride.