The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen #1)(21)

“Gupta is indispensable to the realm.”

“Not nearly as indispensable as some,” he said, not meeting my gaze. He rocked on his heels, examining the scrolls in his arms. “I must excuse myself. I have matters to attend to.”

“Join us for dinner,” said Amar. “You’ve never shied from eating with me before.” He smiled, before adding jokingly, “No one will judge you for trying to organize your grains of rice.”

A smile flashed on Gupta’s face. “You could learn a thing or two from me the way you carry on with a plate.” But then he turned to me and the smile slid off his face. He shook his head.

“Another time, my friend.”

All of Bharata’s court archivists were arrogant, but Gupta’s cagey responses and narrowed glances bordered on insult. I was a princess of Bharata, not some foundling Amar rescued by a roadside. The next time he met my gaze, I raised my chin, my ears turning hot. For the first time, Gupta grinned.

“I hope you will not mind the silence of our halls, Rani.”

The memory of clashing iron rang in my ears. I could still see the lips of the soldiers as they shaped their mouths around a scream.

“I’ve had my fill of noise,” I said.

Gupta tilted his head. “Then again, perhaps our halls will no longer be silent. The Raja has waited a long time for you.”

I frowned. “He waited a long time to marry?”

“No,” said Gupta. “He waited a long time for you. I look forward to discussing your duties tomorrow morning, Rani.”

He flourished a bow to me and nodded at Amar. And then he disappeared behind a pillar. Amar sighed, rubbing his temples through the fabric of his hood. He still hadn’t taken off the garment.

“Gupta is not used to company,” he said. “I hope he did not offend you. He can hold a conversation for hours about sentient underwater creatures, but protocol and etiquette are beyond him.”

“Perhaps that’s a good thing.”

“You don’t care for councilors and their flowery speeches?”

“They make me suspicious. In my experience, big words ornament bad news.”

“A fair observation,” said Amar with a smile. “Please, follow me.”

Amar led me from the antechamber to a large room filled with low-hanging lanterns. A panel of ornate mirrors covered the wall on the right, while windows filled the left. The open windows revealed a stretch of nighttime. Lanterns illuminated the room to a pale gold. In the middle of the room were two saffron-colored cushions, along with a score of small plates piled high with steaming rice cakes, bowls of hot dal and buttery slices of naan. I stepped inside, my gaze falling on the elaborate rug wrought with the image of a huge makara. Purling emerald silk formed its serpent body, shimmering beneath the lights, so that for a moment, the sea dragon almost looked real. Gauri filled my head once more, and I remembered the last night we spent together. We could have been twin stars or makaras with tails long enough to wrap around the ocean twice.

Amar leaned against one of the cushions.

“Please,” he said, pushing a golden plate toward me.

My half-sisters had always feigned a poor appetite, but the naan looked too good to waste on modesty. For the next hour, I ate with happy abandon, my stomach warmed with dal and bursting with fullness. When we finished, a glass tray of mint tea and a bowl of candied fennel seeds appeared on the table.

“What do you think of your kingdom?”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. And very empty. Where is everyone? “It might even be dangerous to live in such luxury and repose.”

“This is no place of repose.” Amar glanced outside where a sliver of moon glimmered behind clouds. “I am at the mercy of the moon to reveal the secrets of this kingdom. Until then, you must practice what it means to rule. I will test you, as this palace will, in its own way.”

I straightened in my seat. “On what?”

“Familiarity, you might say.” His voice was low. “All the usual aspects of ruling. I’ll test your fangs and claws and bloodlust.” He stopped to trace the inside of my wrist, and my pulse leapt to meet his touch. I scowled and grabbed my hand back. Treacherous blood. “I’ll test your eyes and ears and thoughts.”

“Not geography, then?” I asked, half joking.

“It’s useless here.” He shrugged. “You’ll see.”

“History?”

“Written by the victors,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m not interested in one-sided tales.”

“Legends? Folktales?”

This time, Amar grinned. “Perhaps. Do you have a favorite tale?”

My throat tightened and I thought of Gauri standing outside my door and demanding a story. “Many … And you?”

“All of them. Except for tragedies. I cannot abide those.”

In the harem, all the wives preferred tragedies. They wanted stories of star-crossed lovers. They wanted betrayal and declarations of love that ended with the speaker dying at their feet.

“You don’t find them romantic?”

“No,” he said, an edge to his voice. “There is no romance in real grief. Only longing and fury.”

He rose to his feet. “Tomorrow, you can tour the palace fully. It’s yours now.”