Star Daughter(64)
Before she could think how to reword the question, Nani returned the flower to the vase. “While we are on the topic, it is important to understand that there are boundaries and values we must adhere to.” She cut her eyes to Charumati. “Traditions exist to preserve our integrity.”
Charumati’s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “Mother, perhaps we should change the subject?”
“What you did, Daughter,” Nani emphasized, each syllable as sharp and cold as icicles, “brought dishonor down on all our heads. Breaking the taboo, endangering our future if I had not contrived a way to turn it to our advantage . . .”
“It is hardly a taboo any longer!”
“You are the princess of a royal house. You cannot simply follow your whims—”
“Stop,” Nana ordered. The kindly glint in his gaze had been replaced by iron. “No more of this, either of you. We have our beautiful, healthy child now, and that is where this dispute ends. She needs our guidance. Let us leave the past where it belongs.”
He pushed a saucer of sweets toward Sheetal. “Be at ease, beti. All families have misunderstandings on occasion. Cast these angry words from your thoughts and look forward.”
But Sheetal could only look at her hands, the same hands she’d finally accepted just hours before, and wonder who they would hurt next.
Somehow Sheetal made it to her lesson on etiquette. She nabbed a seat next to Kaushal at the far end of the library table and unrolled a scroll, ready to take diligent notes. Unfortunately, the instructor, a middle-aged star who looked like he’d be at home in a mortal professor’s tweed jacket and bow tie, killed that plan, droning on and on about manners and propriety in excruciating detail—glowing the whole while.
She mimicked falling asleep and snoring to Kaushal, who barely hid his grin. It didn’t take her long to boil the instructor’s rambling down to three basic things: One, she needed to channel Minal and sweet-talk everyone. A lot. Two, she had to couch any complaints in tactful terms. Three, she must hide her true feelings in the astral melody, except when sharing positive ones. If someone displayed negative emotions, you could be sure you’d really rubbed them the wrong way, and they wanted you to know it.
Like during the convocation yesterday morning.
Sheetal fidgeted in her chair. It was great and all to learn the proper number of times to refuse a gift before giving in—five—but how did that help her right now, when she could be practicing her dilruba? The finer points of when and how to compliment someone’s outfit wouldn’t impress the court. Only her music would. Not to mention she still had to figure out how not to set everything on fire.
Every minute she wasted here was a minute she wasn’t doing either of those.
Two days. Her palms tingled, and she gripped her pen harder, determined to stay calm. Well, two days if she didn’t blow everything up first.
Kaushal nudged her under the table. Startled, she glanced up from her scroll, where she’d been doodling pictures of her dilruba. “Your boredom is showing,” he whispered. “Bright as a mortal neon sign.”
Sure enough, the instructor had stopped talking and was frowning at her. “It seems you have yet to master a key aspect of fundamental court etiquette, which leads me to question your proficiency in the rest.”
The other students tittered, and Sheetal flushed. But she found the strand of her impatience in the sidereal melody and plucked it out. “Better?”
The instructor waggled his head in approval and went back to the lecture.
Class finally ended, and Sheetal was off like a rocket. But then Kaushal and Urjit stepped in her path.
“That mortal food,” Urjit asked, “what was it called? Chevdo?” Sheetal nodded. “I appreciate your sharing it with me.”
“And what else?” Kaushal prompted.
Urjit made an annoyed sound. “I apologize for my discourteous remark yesterday.”
Sheetal had forgotten all about that. “Don’t give it another thought.”
She tried to swerve around them, but Urjit asked, abashed, “Might there be any more?”
“No, but I might still have some other snacks. I’ll look.” Sheetal pretended not to notice the way Urjit’s face lit up at that, beaming silvery warmth all around him, until he caught himself and snuffed it out. “Anyway, I have to go. I’ve got my next lesson.”
Kaushal walked her to the exit. “He truly enjoyed that chevdo, as did I. It reminded me of my childhood.”
“I’m glad,” Sheetal mumbled, mentally going over her schedule for the rest of the afternoon. “Hey, how much do you know about the star hunters?”
“Very little. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “No reason.”
“Listen, you should know that it also took me some time to gain a handle on my powers. It is a difficult process for those of us who began like this. However, with time, it becomes exponentially simpler.” Kaushal gestured to himself. “All of it does.”
But Sheetal didn’t need his sympathy. She just wanted to go. “I’m not staying,” she pointed out, “so it doesn’t matter.”
“Ah,” he said, visibly deflating. “I suppose not, then.”
21
“I thought we would rehearse in here today,” Charumati said, unlocking her suite of rooms. Her enigmatic smile shone as bright as the starlight tresses that tumbled down her back.