Star Daughter(47)
The star who had called attention to Sheetal smirked. She had a pearl-smooth complexion and large, knowing eyes, and her silver locks were threaded through with black diamonds. She had to be from House Revati, but unlike the others, she didn’t have a circlet. “Oh, everyone knows how dearly you care for the sanctity of rules, Charumati,” she purred. “After all, were you not the one who flouted your own house’s ban on consorting with mortals?”
Sheetal wondered just what had gone down between this person and her mother to make her so vindictive. Had they been friends? Rivals? No love lost there, for sure.
“And now you have enlisted your half-mortal daughter to help you regain the court,” the star from House Revati accused, her mirth dwindling. “You will never change, will you, Charumati? Everything is about you and your convenience.”
Sheetal glanced at Nana. His gentle face had gone hard-edged, but he stayed quiet.
“They are consistent that way,” the star from House Magha agreed. “Eshana and Charumati both. And now their house thinks it will take over speaking for the rest of us again.”
“With a half-mortal brat as your mouthpiece, no less!” The star from House Revati sounded disgusted, but the gleam in her eyes betrayed just how much she was enjoying this. “Have you no shame, any of you?”
“Come, Rati,” Charumati said, retrieving the scroll and rolling it up. Though her voice was cool, her ire rang out in the astral melody, all crescendi and bass. “I am well aware of what you think of me, but there is no reason to bring my daughter into it.”
Rati smiled, a slow and sharp smile. “Ah, but you brought her into it, as your champion. I am merely commenting on the injustice of the situation.”
“Enough,” Nani said, her silver-brown eyes sparking. “I will not hear another word against my kin.”
The star from House Ashvini grimaced. “Please, Rati, hold your insults. Our goal is not to inflame House Pushya.”
“The truth is now considered an insult?” Rati sipped her drink. “Such an interesting era we live in.”
“Surely you see the fault in this, Jagdeeshbhai?” the star from House Krittika asked. “The strife this propagates between our houses—will you not put an end to it?”
Nana lay his hand on Sheetal’s shoulder. “Esteemed colleagues, I fully concur that animosity among the nakshatras brings harm to all. For that very reason, as we have ascertained no bylaws are in breach at this time, I suggest we table this discussion and allow the competition, rather than any one of us and our biases, to decide the outcome.”
The other delegates exchanged disgruntled looks. “As you are not in breach of the bylaws,” the star from House Magha said slowly, as if the words caused him pain, “I have no choice but to acquiesce.” He rose to leave. “Know, however, that I will see the regulations redrafted, House Pushya.”
“Please do,” said Nani amiably. “Specificity can only be to the good of all.”
There was still so much Sheetal didn’t know, but one thing she did: she wasn’t going to let a bunch of incensed stars or anyone else interfere with her mission. Dad needed her.
“Thank you, everyone,” she said, “for this opportunity to air your concerns. I look forward to seeing you again at the competition.”
“Now, if you will excuse us”—Charumati flashed Rati a smile as sweet as jalebi—“our champion’s training awaits.”
Rati bowed slightly as she moved toward the door. As she passed Sheetal, she whispered, “I am certain we will meet again, mortal girl, and soon.”
15
“Shall we go?” Charumati asked Sheetal. “Your voice rehearsal awaits, and our time is running short.”
Sheetal definitely didn’t need the reminder. The competition was in less than two days, and they’d already burned through the morning. She could almost hear the timer counting down in her ear. “Lead the way.”
But forty minutes into their rehearsal slot, she was ready to hightail it out of the central court. First she’d wasted twenty minutes racking her brain for songs she might sing and play her own accompaniment to, complicated ones she knew well enough to pull off without weeks of practice, but it was like someone had scrubbed her memory clean.
She’d finally decided on two possible candidates, an Irish folk ballad and a classical Hindu bhajan, when Charumati announced they’d be doing warm-up drills. “Let us begin with the lip trill.”
“You don’t have to do this when you sing,” Sheetal muttered. She’d always avoided this particular exercise; there was no way not to feel stupid when burbling “brbrbr” like a kid blowing raspberries. Did Dev do this?
“I am not half mortal,” Charumati said simply. “You are.”
Sheetal sullenly pushed through the trill until she was sure her lips were going to vibrate right off. For Dad, she reminded herself.
“Good!” Charumati applauded. She faced Sheetal and pressed down on her collarbone, forcing her shoulders back. “But you must strive for proper posture. Now hum for me.”
While her mother held her shoulders in place, Sheetal hummed, trying to relax her vocal cords. She’d learned warm-up technique from online tutorials, but it was completely different to have someone standing right there, critiquing her.