Whoa. Lal’s mom was giving the Rakkhoshi Queen a run for her status as wickedest stepmother of the year.
Instead of exploding in rage, Neel’s voice took on an icy, sarcastic civility. “How pleasant to see you too, my royal stepmother,” he mocked, bowing low.
The buttercup queen then turned her venom on me. “It is you who has brought this evil wind into our kingdom again, you moon rock, you viper child, you serpent in girl’s clothing!”
“My darling lady,” the Raja cooed, “this is the Princess Kiranmala, exiled these many years to the land of”—he shuddered—“two dimensions. What will she think of us if we behave so? Come, my dear, you must not distress yourself. We do not desire you to become ill!”
“Royal husband.” Now the queen’s tone was cloying. “You will exile them, won’t you? You will banish them from the kingdom for what they have done to my son, your heir, the future Raja of this kingdom?”
I wanted to hate her, but she was right. I had done this to her son, twice over. Once by separating him from Neel, and then again by inviting the Rakkhoshi Queen into the kingdom. I felt smaller than a cockroach and only half as loved.
“My royal stepmother,” Neel said, his voice tight, “Princess Kiranmala didn’t do this to Lal. It was my fault entirely. No one else’s.”
Neel’s words confused me. Why was he taking all the blame?
“Do not address me, boy!” the woman shrieked at Neel. “And do not tell me about this”—she indicated me—“snake in the grass, this asp, this cobra dropping!”
Neel kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, but I could see that muscle twitching at his jaw that told me how angry he really was. The volcano, it seemed, was bubbling again.
One of the other queens was staring at my clothes. “You do realize that you have, like, demon snot on your shirt?” she twitted through pink lips. “I mean, seriously grody!”
“Yes, and it’s demon spit, thanks,” I muttered.
“My queens, we observe your sister-queen is a bit distressed.” The Raja waved his handkerchief in the direction of Lal’s mother. “Perhaps you can remove her from the throne room and allow her to get some well-deserved rest.”
“I refuse to leave without my son! I will not leave without the golden ball!” Lal’s mother shouted, but at the Raja’s slight shake of the head, several queens grabbed each of her arms and legs and began forcing her out of the room.
“It’s all of your faults! You all did this to my precious boy!” the queen yelled as she was bustled away. “Not to mention all the time he spent with that horse-girl, that stable wench! No good can come from mixing with the poor, I tell you! No good can come from letting the son of a rakkhoshi and the daughter of a snake loose in the kingdom!”
The entire throne room stayed quiet as the queen’s rants became less and less audible. Then everyone started jabbering again as if nothing had happened. I was surprised the Raja didn’t even seem embarrassed. He was probably used to the drama. He actually looked pretty chipper as he picked up some sweets from a silver platter. I remembered that Neel had said Lord Bulbul’s title was Minister of Sweets. Now I understood how important that position would be in this kingdom. The Raja scarfed down a number of desserts all at the same time.
“This one has real silver sliced on top,” he said as he popped a diamond-shaped sandesh into his already full mouth. Some of the ministers seated to his left clapped, as if impressed by their Raja’s dessert-eating abilities. For his part, the Raja looked ridiculously pleased by their approval.
“Now where were we?” the Raja mused when he was done smirking for his court. “What was it we were talking about?” He had disgusting globs of molasses hanging from his moustache hairs.
I stole a glance at Neel, whose brown skin was turning seriously ruddy. I worried the lava of his rage was about to bubble up and out.
“We were talking about your younger son, Your Majesty.” My voice was thin and nervous. “He got turned into a golden sphere?”
“Oh, yes.” The Raja swallowed, then whipped out his handkerchief to dab his lips and eyes. “We are so very dismayed at this unexpected turn of events.” Of course, his dismay didn’t stop him from shoving some more sandesh in his mouth.
“I’m sure you are, sire,” I said quickly.
“We are even more distressed,” mumbled the Raja through his stuffed mouth, “that our son was with that inappropriate friend of his. The daughter of a stable master! Really!”
“Father.” Neel spoke through clenched teeth. “I said I would do whatever it takes to bring the Prince Lalkamal back, and I will.”
“And Mati,” I added.
“Indeed,” the Raja said to his son, “you will bring your brother home, or you will not come home at all.”
“Without my brother, I have no home here.” Neel bit off the words like they were poison.
I felt horrible. If not for me, Lal and Mati would be with us right now. If I’d just believed their stories, maybe my parents would be safe at home too. I straightened my shoulders, feeling that unfamiliar warrior spirit in my stomach. Even if he hated me, even if he was more rakkhosh than human, I would help Neel get his brother back. And I would get my parents back too. There was no other option. This was my destiny.
I turned to the yellow bird, who was perched on the arm of the Raja’s throne. “Minister Tuni, what do we do? How can we get them back in their old form?”
“In the East of North of East, the Maya Pahar climbs—” Tuntuni squawked, pecking crumbs out of the Raja’s open palm.
“Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first time,” I interrupted. “So we have to go the Maya Pahar to save Lal and Mati—the same place my parents are?”
“All your solutions,” the bird agreed, “lie in the Mountains of Illusions.”
“Okay, great, let’s go!”
“Wait.” The Raja stopped me with an upturned hand. “Do you know how to get there?”
I was surprised. “It’s like the bird—”
A squawk of protest.
“… Minister Tuni said. In the East of North of East. I mean, wherever that is. Right?”
“Stop being such a ruler, Kiran,” Neel snapped. “Here, north isn’t always north. East isn’t always east …”
“Oh, right.” I sagged in defeat and scowled at the bird, who was hopping from one of the Raja’s armrests to the other. I was no closer to finding Ma and Baba. No closer to helping Lal and Mati back into their human forms. Maybe Neel was right. Maybe I couldn’t do anything right.
Unexpectedly, it was Tuntuni who seemed to notice my plummeting mood. “Say, Princess, what do you call a sad bird?” he squawked.
“This is really not the time …” Neel began, but I blurted out the answer.
“Easy. A bluebird.”
“Eggs-ceptional,” Tuni chirped, flying onto my shoulder. For whatever reason, that made me feel a little better.
“In a place where nothing—not even countries—stay put, it’s useful to have a moving map. Why don’t you use yours?”
Both the Raja and Neel snapped around to look at me. “You have a moving map?” father and son asked at the same time.