Star Daughter(101)

This was Sheetal’s story, and a fairy-tale crime deserved a fairy-tale punishment. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to lay a finger on you. I don’t have to, not when the stars will turn their faces from you. And you know what that means? No more inspiration. You wanted to be remembered for all time? Too bad. Feel free to toil away in obscurity, though.”

He blanched.

“And,” Nani vowed, not to be outdone, “though it is traditional to do so, your memory will not be cleansed. You will recall every moment of this. I will see to that myself.”

Sheetal wanted to argue—that was way too harsh; none of the other contestants would ever remember they’d been here, and wasn’t losing inspiration enough of a blow?—but Nani’s merciless manner made it clear that if Sheetal pushed any further, Nani would just override her completely. At least this way, Jeet got to live.

So even though she ached to think of what it would do to Dev, Sheetal let it pass.

“Oh,” she went on, “and if you try to pick up a knife to hurt anyone ever again, it’ll rebound and cut you. Probably better to steer clear of knives altogether.”

She didn’t actually have that power, of course, but it wasn’t like Jeet knew any better.

“You can’t do this,” he spat. “I’m under House Revati’s protection.”

Sheetal swept her arm to encompass the court. “Do you see House Revati up here with you? No? Then I guess they’re not protecting you anymore.”

“You’re a poseur,” he informed her. “You only got this far by luck, and that’ll never hold out.”

Sheetal let the words spray over her like sea foam. The wave might sting, but in the end, the foam would dissolve. “You can still fix things with Dev. Just, you know, do better than this.”

Jeet’s gaze hardened as he met his cousin’s devastated face. He stared, cold as a midwinter night, then turned away.

The ruling Esteemed Matriarch, who had been observing from the stage, nodded in acknowledgment. “A fine solution. Remove the mortal,” she told the guards. “It is time for the judges’ deliberation.” She glanced quizzically at Sheetal. “I trust you understand that, having relinquished your mortality, you are now disqualified from acting as champion?”

“I do, but hang on.” Sheetal inhaled down to her diaphragm, siphoning strength from the sidereal song as it enveloped her in its notes. “We’re not done yet.”

Nani and Charumati had been right about one thing. This was her blood, her birthright. This was her.

She stood tall and addressed the court. “I, Sheetal Mistry, of the Pushya nakshatra, name mortal Dev Merai as my champion. He will be singing an original composition for you today.”

That would have to be eloquent enough.

The audience exclaimed, sending currents of delight and dismay through the starsong, mixed with relish at the unexpected scandal. Jeet screwed his eyes shut before the guards dragged him away.

“This is ridiculous,” said Nani. “You have hardly reached majority!” Sheetal heard voices in the audience that agreed, that supported Nani and her stance on separating the realms.

“Well?” asked the Esteemed Patriarch of House Dhanishta. “We will honor this declaration, but do not expect us to wait.”

“I refuse to honor this declaration,” Nani said.

“Stand down, Eshana,” warned the ruling Esteemed Patriarch. “We will hear Sheetal’s champion. I must confess, I am intrigued.”

“So you were saying, dikri?” Charumati asked, her mouth twitching like she was suppressing a smile. Nani’s look, on the other hand, threatened to burn the entire court to ashes.

For Dad, Sheetal thought. And for me.

If she didn’t stand up now, she’d always be trailing after people who thought they knew better than she did about all things, whether it was Radhikafoi or Nani or even her mother. Cowering in their shadows instead of shining her own light.

“Do it, Sheetu,” Minal whispered. “Whatever you’re going to do.”

Dev watched her with trust in his eyes. “Ready when you are, star girl,” he whispered.

Sheetal reached deep inside herself for the feeling that had come with overturning the jar of stardust, the feeling of inspiring another person, as well as the memory of actually being inspired. Her heart flashed to life, illuminated as it pumped the starry song through her veins. Her palms and the soles of her feet prickled.

Would this work? Her core sputtered with doubt. Maybe Nani was right, and she was too young.

No. She’d earned this.

While her flame bathed her body in a wash of power to rival Lord Surya himself, Sheetal threw her inspiration at Dev as hard as she could.

The energy passed into Dev and disappeared. But instead of feeling depleted, Sheetal felt even more alive.

Yes.

For a second, Dev looked like he’d been shocked. Then he smiled.

And then he began to sing.

The last line of the song floated through the room, so bright and mournful and resonant that for a long moment, no one moved.

Sheetal’s heart was done for. Dev had basically ripped it out of her chest and ground it to pulp. That song, that confession, had to have been the best thing he had ever done, his masterpiece, drawing on everything he’d gone through over the past week and making the choice to hide nothing and instead offer it all up as a gift: from the day he met her to nearly losing her to where they stood now, every word wrapped in love.