Star Daughter(48)

Then Charumati led her up and down a set of scales, making Sheetal go through them over and over. It seemed like an eternity before her mother was satisfied and stepped back. “I believe we are ready to try singing.”

Finally! Sheetal inhaled all the way down to her diaphragm. She thought about how terrific it felt to sing, how natural. How she’d always wanted to be seen, and how now was her chance. She opened her mouth.

And remembered how exposed she’d been at breakfast, all her feelings on display for the entire court. The first notes of the ballad spilled from her throat, and they were shrill. Off-key. A satire of herself.

Even Charumati startled, her smooth brow furrowing.

Sheetal hummed, then tried again. This time, she heard Dev asking her to sing with him and the whole disaster that followed. Her throat closed. This was hopeless. She was going to fail Dad.

“Again,” Charumati directed. “The song is in you.”

Sheetal made the mistake of glancing up at the imaginary audience in its rows and rows of seats, at the stage where the Esteemed Matriarchs and Patriarchs—two rulers for each nakshatra, as Nani had told her—would preside over everyone, and she choked. Her voice quavered. It shattered like glass.

Where was the talent she’d always been so impatient to show off now?

“Perhaps we should have reserved our slot for tomorrow’s rehearsal instead,” Charumati observed at last, sounding doggedly cheerful. “A more intimate setting may be more conducive to your comfort.”

Or how about not being in this competition at all? Sheetal thought. Everyone was acting like she’d always been here. Like she’d grown up with this part of her family and shared all their values and goals.

How could she? She didn’t even really know what their values and goals were. She didn’t even know her mom.

Five hundred years. They needed her to be a mortal, but they expected her to be a star.

She pictured herself faltering, stumbling on the wrong note, forgetting the lyrics, and flubbing the whole competition. All while Dev witnessed each and every gaffe. House Pushya might as well hand out popcorn.

This was ridiculous. She knew how to sing better than anything else. Lifting her hands and sticking out her chest, she tried for a single long C.

The note came out as a squawk.

Just in time for the company of stars gliding into the court, led by a spiky-haired human girl carrying two Kathputli marionettes in a sling pouch. Priyanka.

Putting her hands on her hips, Priyanka sized Sheetal up. When she tilted her head, the purple streaks in her black hair gleamed. “Well, look who it is. The star girl who thinks she can just swan on in all late and have fancy meals with her family like she’s better than the rest of us humans.”

“Your marionettes are really something,” Sheetal replied. She refused to take the bait. Plus, she did get it. In Priyanka’s shoes, she’d be furious, too.

But she wasn’t here for glory. She was here for Dad.

The stars frowned at Priyanka, then at Sheetal. “You need not befriend the other champions.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I don’t need to be friends with anyone who sings like a duck. Some champion.” Priyanka rolled her eyes. Her ruby nose ring sparkled in the silvery light of the stars flanking her like sentries. “I guess that’s what nepotism gets you—a talentless hack.”

She shot the accusation like an arrow at Charumati, who watched with narrowed eyes but said nothing. A few of the other stars tittered.

Sheetal’s resolve to be pleasant disintegrated.

“I’d just go home now if I were you,” Priyanka said. “Save yourself the embarrassment of letting the whole court watch me beat you.” She quacked, a depressingly accurate imitation of Sheetal’s tragic attempt at a high C.

Now even those stars who hadn’t laughed smirked behind their hands.

Burning with shame, Sheetal shoved past Priyanka. Her starlight tresses hung in her face, taunting her. Half-star. Half-thing. One hundred percent hack.

Her music was the one thing she’d always been sure of, and the first time an outsider heard it, she’d made a fool of herself.

How was she going to do this? All she wanted was to walk away. At home, at least she knew the rules.

Charumati overtook her at the exit. “There will always be those who speak in darts and spears. You must not allow yourself to be pierced by their ill will.”

“Please,” said Sheetal, trying to sound like she didn’t care, “just let me go see Dad.”

So this is the legendary Hall of Mirrors, Sheetal thought. It looked kind of like a fun house on Earth. The black-crystal walls were alight with mirrors of all different sizes and shapes, each framed in a dark blue satin studded with star-shaped gemstones. Except the hall was far too elegant to be a fun house, more like a palace made all of glittering ice.

Minal and Padmini, who’d found her on the way here, wandered through the room, checking out their reflections. “These mirrors really capture my good side,” Minal decided, “if I do say so myself, and I do.”

“Do not grow too attached to your own splendor,” Charumati teased her. “We cannot tarry.” She smiled at Sheetal. “A few minutes should suffice for our purposes.”

It would have to. But Sheetal hung back, watching a trio of stars gathered around a mirror and commenting on a wedding reception. Now that she was here, she was afraid.