“You’re a rani.”
“I’m the rani.” She stops before me. I can see over her head; I am that much taller than she is. Her bare shoulder has a dark raised scar—a healed stab wound—and a thin white scar marks her jawline. “You will call me Lakia. I am kindred to Tarek and our people, but I will never be kindred to you. I’m charged with watching over my husband’s other interests. Any punishment you receive will come through me.” Her nose turns upward. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“At least you’re of age. Tarek has developed a taste for young girls. Anjali was fourteen when she came here.” She curls her upper lip in distaste.
“How did you know I was claimed to be His Majesty’s wife, and not Natesa?”
Lakia grabs a handful of my hair and speaks into my ear. “I know my husband.” Her breath smells of spearmint, and her skin, of cinnamon oils. She releases my tresses a few strands at a time so that they swing past my shoulder. “His wives have only one trait in common—beautiful hair.” She flicks the last of my locks into my face, and I flinch.
“When will I see the rajah?” I say.
She grips my shoulder, digging in her nails. I withstand her biting grasp, refusing to balk for her amusement. On the back of her hand, I see a single line dyed in henna. A matching line marks her other hand. I do not recognize the symbol. “Proceedings for the rank tournament will begin shortly. You will—” Lakia eases up on my shoulder. “Ah, Captain,” she says as she sails back to her throne.
Deven approaches her dais and kneels. My gaze latches on to him, a steady rock in this torrent of change.
“Rise,” Lakia says. “Tell me about this trouble you had on your journey.”
“We were attacked by bhutas in the lower Alpanas. They killed three of my men and followed us to the desert. I thought we lost them, but the viraji spotted one of them—a Burner—in the marketplace. My men are searching for him.”
Lakia clicks her fingernails together. “Tarek anticipated this, which is why he asks that you reconsider your advancement to the imperial guard. The bhutas will do everything in their power to interfere with the rank tournament and prevent him from crowning his hundredth rani. You are one of the few soldiers Tarek trusts implicitly. He wishes for you to supervise the viraji’s protection.”
Reconsider his advancement? They asked Deven to be an imperial guard once before? Why did he refuse?
Deven bends at the waist. “I’m pleased to serve His Majesty and the viraji.” He straightens, with a glance at me. “I will protect her with my life.”
I hold myself still, hiding my swinging emotions. I am pleased to retain Deven as my guard, but I am worried about how I will keep him at a distance that is safe for both of us.
“It’s settled then. Viraji, you may explore the palace grounds only while guarded, and you are never to leave the gates. Wives are not permitted in the courtesans’ wing, and vice versa. You may not receive or send correspondence with anyone outside the palace walls. Violation of these rules will result in your swift punishment, which I will decide the severity of.” She flourishes her hand, and a serving woman wearing a long black veil appears. “Asha will be your personal attendant. She will show you to your chamber. You will dine with the wives for supper tonight.”
With another flick of Lakia’s hand, we are dismissed.
My servant, Asha, escorts Deven and me from the receiving hall. We have hardly exited when we come upon an older officer in a dark-blue military uniform. Deven stiffens beside me and slows to a stop. The man’s intruding stare combs over me, climbing up and down my body. Asha waits a few paces away with her gaze down.
“General Gautam,” says Deven. “You caught up to us.”
“I didn’t have a carriage to slow me down,” says the general, his smile glib. “I heard there was excitement in the market.”
I know that voice. General Gautam must have been one of the men I overheard in the lower level of the temple. But what does Deven mean that he “caught up to us”? The general was at Samiya after we left? I had assumed that he rode ahead of us with the rajah.
Deven stares past the general, his expression controlled. “We saw a bhuta, nothing more. The viraji is safe here in the palace.”
I question how true that is, given that Deven has been asked to stay on as my guard.
“No one is safe so long as bhutas are in the empire,” says General Gautam. “We should burn the foothills where they hide and be done with them.”
“Then we would be no better than they are,” I say.
The general arches his brows in amusement. “I understand why the rajah claimed you, Viraji. He likes fiery women. The gods know why.” He glances around the hall. “Where’s the other one? The courtesan? A pretty thing. I should like to see her.”
“She’s settling into the courtesans’ wing,” Deven answers. Everything about him is stiff, from his voice to his stance.
“I will be certain to pay her a visit.” The general winks at me.
“Why would you visit Natesa?” I ask.
Deven draws a deep breath through his nose.
The general chuckles. “Young Viraji, let me give you a word of advice from a man who has known the rajah many years—do not ask questions.”
I tilt my head and return his condescending tone. “And I will advise you to stay away from the rajah’s women.”
“Kalinda,” Deven warns.
I scowl at him for taking the general’s side.
General Gautam flashes a cold smile at Deven. “Still haven’t learned how to keep a woman in line, have you, son?”
Deven goes stock-still. My eyes widen, and I glance from him to the general. They share the same strong chin and dark brows, the same thick shoulders and long arms. Deven told me that his father is a benefactor and an officer. The general is his father.
“A pleasure to meet you, Viraji.” General Gautam bows without lowering his chin. “I will offer your regards to Natesa.” The general strolls into the receiving hall.
Deven’s firm silence repels my questions. Asha steps forward, and we clip down the corridors after her. I glance at Deven’s stony expression and replay our meeting with the general. I still do not understand what General Gautam was doing at the temple or why he would visit Natesa.
We turn a corner and enter my bedchamber. My chamber is ten times the size of the one at the temple and bedecked in the same ostentatious taste as the rest of the palace. A four-poster canopy bed that could easily sleep five is stuffed with silk pillows. A table near the hearth is decorated with a large bowl of multicolored glass orbs, shining prisms of rainbow light across the plaster walls. Daylight and a slight breeze pour in from the balcony overlooking the gardens, a view Jaya would adore.
“Viraji, I will see about your bath.” Asha backs out of the room in a bow, leaving Deven and me alone.
“My apologies about my father,” he says quietly.