Star Daughter(43)

“Then that same magic later removes all memories of their encounter with us from their minds. We are not in the business of being cruel.”

And so they can’t talk about you, Sheetal added, remembering how Charumati had once warned her to hide.

But if people like the star hunters still existed, was that such a bad idea? She didn’t know.

Nani pointed to the double doors, each with an antiqued silver pull in the shape of a four-pointed star. “This is our common room, a space where stars of any nakshatra may gather freely. Behind it, you will find the guest quarters. Soon we must hurry to your rehearsal, but would you first care to step inside for a beverage? It is important to show your face, so that none believe you afraid.”

Sheetal balked. Show her face? Afraid? The insult from the welcome ceremony came back to her then. Mortal half-thing.

Nani touched her shoulder, and her concern was sincere, crisp and bright in the song around them. “Hear me, dikri. The choice is yours to make. If you wish to move straight into the rehearsal, we will do that instead. My inclination is simply to offer you all possible advantages.”

Maybe it was stupid of her, since the starsong would only reflect the emotions Nani wanted it to, but Sheetal warmed at feeling her worry, anyway. Besides, she didn’t have anything to hide from the other stars. “We can go in,” she said, returning Nani’s smile. “A drink sounds good.”

They entered the common room, a pentagonal chamber lined by huge scalloped windows, lit by perforated star-shaped lanterns and more of the sconces Sheetal had seen in the corridor, and festooned with rich blue-and-silver draperies and ebony furniture with matching upholstery. Stars stood in small clusters of three and four, all casting her suspicious glances as she passed by.

Sheetal hadn’t expected celestial gatherings to feel so much like parties on Earth, everyone in their little cliques—and her on the fringes. Where were her stars? Where were Minal and Padmini?

She missed Earth. She really missed Dad. “After my rehearsal,” she told Nani, “I want to see the Hall of Mirrors.”

“I am certain we can find an opportunity at some point.” Nani led her to the marble fountain at the center of the room, where a handmaiden dipped silver cups into the flowing sky-hued liquid. “First, however, let us focus. There is so little time to prepare you.”

Whose fault is that? Sheetal thought.

The handmaiden inclined her head. “Skyberry cordial, pressed from our own orchards. Would you like a taste?” Sheetal nodded, and the handmaiden offered her a cup.

It was like drinking the cloud-streaked sunsets she’d dubbed “cotton candy sky” as a kid. Sweet and refreshing, with a hint of tartness. “Nani, how well did you know my dad?”

Nani hadn’t heard her. Her mouth thinned as stars bearing the House Revati insignia came into view, along with a human man with curly hair who looked to be around nineteen or twenty. “Those upstarts think to offend us, that we might simply hand over rulership to them. As if they could cow us so!”

“What do you mean?” The man looked vaguely familiar, maybe, but that was all. Not what Sheetal would call threatening.

Two people hurried toward them, blocking him from sight. “The other competing houses have called a convocation and wish you to join them at your earliest convenience, Esteemed Matriarch,” the taller of the two visitors crooned. “Hello again, star’s daughter.”

It was the apsara from the Night Market, swathed in a sari of the pink lotus-petal taffeta she’d considered in the fabric stall. A starry page, who looked about ten years old, accompanied her.

“You got it after all,” Sheetal said. “The taffeta.”

The apsara struck a runway-model pose. “It suits me quite well, I must say.”

“It does,” Sheetal agreed. “We met on Earth,” she told Nani, whose forehead creased.

“Esteemed Matriarch,” the page said when Nani didn’t move to follow him, “the convocation awaits.”

Nani considered him for a full thirty seconds, then nodded. “Tell them Jagdeesh and I shall receive them in our study in twenty minutes.”

“And the Esteemed Patriarch? Shall I seek him out?”

“No need,” Nani said. “I will send him word via the song.”

The page put his palms together in acknowledgment, then scampered off.

“My apologies, beti,” Nani said to Sheetal. “I am disinclined to leave you here, yet it cannot be helped. Can you find your way back to my apartments when you finish making your rounds here?”

Sheetal couldn’t think of anything she wanted less than to fumble through this crowd of strange faces alone, but she tried to sound like she didn’t care. “I’ll be fine.”

Nani leaned close and whispered, “You are of the House of Pushya. Our song rings in your bones. Our light is your light. Let no one tell you otherwise.”

“How perfectly scrumptious!” the apsara cooed as Nani strode away. “It has been so frightfully dreary around here. But now that you mortals are appearing . . .”

“Right. How long has it been since any humans visited?” Sheetal asked. The more she talked, the more she could put off going over and introducing herself to House Revati’s champion.

“Oh, perhaps half a millennium? Who can keep track?” The apsara launched into what would have been juicy court gossip if Sheetal hadn’t been too floored to enjoy it.