The woman continued, “The moon maiden did all that was in her power—she exiled the farmers and the child out of the Kingdom Beyond Seven Oceans and Thirteen Rivers to a smoggy place at the end of a dark tunnel, a place where wide tarred roads stretch on and on, and no one can ever take a left turn …”
“A place called New Jersey?” The pieces were all fitting together.
“Why yes,” the woman agreed. “But the moon magic was only so powerful. The exile would last a mere dozen years, and on the child’s twelfth birthday, the spell would begin to implode, forcing the two farmers back to this land of enchantment.”
Water dripped off me onto the floor. I couldn’t seem to stop my teeth from chattering. How could I have not known? Neel had said something about the people I thought were my parents, and back then I hadn’t believed him. But some deep instinct told me the woman’s tale was true. That my parents weren’t my parents. That my biological father was a serpent king, and my mother a moon maiden. It felt like a nightmare—like I’d just stepped into one of Baba’s stories. Yet, unlike those, I’d never heard this story before and had no idea how it was supposed to end.
“Are you ready, my princess? May I come in?” the woman asked.
I wrapped the towel around myself. My eyes were hot. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
“One sec,” I mumbled.
Ma and Baba—they probably hated me. I was some kind of royal burden to them, a baby they’d saved and then been saddled with because of a dumb enchantment. I thought about Baba’s fear of snakes, his efforts to make sure one never got into our house. He was trying to protect me. And Ma’s thing about having no curtains—she was trying to make sure the moon could shine on me.
No wonder they’d insisted I be a princess every Halloween. They were trying to tell me. I just wasn’t willing to listen. My whole face stung. I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Your Highness?”
All I could think about was what kind of brat I’d been. And how much Ma and Baba had given up for me. Their whole world. Their yard. Curtains. They probably were glad to be rid of me. My throat felt woolly. I could barely breathe. I will not cry.
“May I come in?”
I was all alone. With no idea of who I really was. Who was I? Who was Princess Kiranmala? I couldn’t begin to imagine.
“Do you invite me to enter?”
“Yeah,” I managed to get out. “I invite you to enter.”
In a flash, Danavi was around the screen. Maybe I hadn’t paid so much attention before, but there was something different about her. I was so distracted thinking about my parents, though, that I couldn’t put my finger on it. Instead I stayed lost in thought as the woman helped me into a delicate silk tunic and loose pants embroidered with a lotus pattern. I didn’t even notice it wasn’t black. Or that the scar on my arm was totally visible from under its tiny sleeves. I sat numbly in front of the mirror, my head full of moonbeams and serpents’ tails.
“You are like a lotus, my princess.” The woman combed my hair, braiding it and twisting it into an elaborate style. “You are a flower that has thrived even in the most dark and polluted waters.”
“What?” I jerked away as Danavi yanked a little too hard.
“Well,” she explained in a wheedling voice, “you are a beautiful blossom, despite being raised by simpletons who toil in the dirt.” She pinned my hair up, away from my neck. I felt her fingers graze my hairline.
“Those are my parents you’re talking about,” I snapped, even as I felt a familiar embarrassment creep up on me. It was the same feeling I got when Jovi sneered at me for having parents who owned a Quickie Mart.
“They are farmers, my princess, no kind of parents for one of royal blood. No kind of parents for one with both the moon-mark”—she touched my neck again—“and snake sign.” She touched my arm now, smiling toothily in the mirror.
The snake sign? Those U-shaped eyeglasses. Why hadn’t I realized it before? Or had I just not let myself? The scar on my arm was the same as the markings on a cobra’s head.
“They are no parents for the likes of you, my princess,” Danavi cackled.
I whipped around to face her, my temper burning. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
I felt something strong harden inside of me. Something I couldn’t hide from. The truth. Had Ma and Baba ever treated me differently? Like I wasn’t their own? Granted, they were seriously kooky. Ma was always stuffing me full of food. Baba was always stuffing me full of stories. But they didn’t hate me; they adored me. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to be with them again.
I waved off the slippers the woman offered me and jammed my still damp feet into my trusty boots. My eyes were hot, but my voice was firm.
“My parents saved my life,” I said, “and raised me. They may not be perfect, but they didn’t ask to get dragged into this mess. Only now they have been, and I’m going to get them out of it.”
“Oh, a thousand pardons. Of course you are, my princess. You and your companions are very brave. You will go now and rouse the good princes Lalkamal and Neelkamal from the palace …”
“No, just Neel’s in the palace,” I corrected before I could stop myself. “Lal’s in the stables with Mati.”
“In the stables?” The woman’s eyes shone strangely in the mirror. “Without his brother’s protection? Well, well, isn’t that convenient …”
Wait a minute. A terrible feeling came over me.
I stood up and started to back away. “Who are you?”
Something was seriously not right here. Too late, I remembered how Mati answered when Lal asked if he could come into the stables. She said no. What had Neel said? That it was a custom in their country? That you never granted someone permission to enter?
“I’m Danavi—don’t you know what my name means?” The maid threw off her cloak, revealing an entirely different form. A beautiful, dark-haired woman with a bejeweled crown stood before me. All the hairs on my neck stood at some serious attention.
“What?” I squeaked.
The woman smiled, revealing two fangs that hung below her ruby lips. “Demoness!” she said. “But you can call me Demon Queen!”
Aw, bilious rakkhosh snot. Here we went again.
I tried to run, but the rakkhoshi ripped a handful of her own hair from her head and threw it at me. It might as well have been a handful of quick-drying cement. As soon as the magical hair hit me, I couldn’t move at all. I realized with dread that the demoness’s smile reminded me of someone I knew.
“Rakkhoshi! Be gone!” a voice commanded from the doorway. It was Neelkamal, his sword drawn. Beside him was the real Danavi.
“I felt a cold mist enter the room, and then all became dark!” exclaimed the maid.
No wonder the woman’s voice changed mid-story. No wonder she seemed different—the demoness had switched places with the real Danavi!
“Leave Kiran alone!” Neel shouted.
It was only then that I realized the Demon Queen’s sharp-nailed hands were at my throat.
“Ayiiii!” the rakkhoshi screeched, turning toward Neel. “There is nothing so upsetting to the digestion as an ungrateful child!”