Star Daughter(70)

“Not really,” Sheetal admitted.

“I thought so.” Minal grimly pulled her along. “Sheetu, you can’t do this. If you don’t take care of yourself, of course you’re not going to be able to control your light. Promise me you’ll sleep tonight.”

Sheetal groped for an answer. How could she explain about the cosmic dance? Minal couldn’t understand. No one could.

A wave of homesickness washed over her. All she wanted was to sit with Dad again, even if the closest she could come was through a mirror, and remind herself of why she was doing any of this.

“I’ll try,” she agreed finally, because what else was there to say?

The Hall of Mirrors was blessedly empty, silent but for the silvery chimes of the starsong. Sheetal knelt before a flower-shaped looking glass and watched Dad’s gray-brown face among the briar patch of tubes, watched the rise and fall of his shallow breathing. Her own heartbeat responded, turning into a hum, a mantra of waking.

The air around the mirror glittered, and she hoped Dad could feel it.

Sheetal sang softly to her sleeping father. She told him everything about Svargalok, about her mother and Rati, about the competition, all the while wishing she could do more. Wishing she could go to him right now with the drop of blood in hand and rouse him.

Would he want her to take Rati’s offer?

She prayed he’d forgive her, because she couldn’t. Not now.

Sheetal didn’t know when it had happened, but the fire inside her had tempered all those taunts like a sword, turning them into steel. Minal had been right; she needed to show everyone what she could do. She needed to show herself.

No, she did know. The cosmic dance had woken something in her she didn’t want to deny anymore. She was half human, sure, but she was also half a star.

Tomorrow, she promised. Tomorrow, I’ll be home to save you. And then, because the shame of delaying sat like a boulder in her stomach, she added aloud, “I love you, Daddy.”

She checked her schedule to see what was next. Another practice session. Good. She needed all the preparation she could get. Only hours left before her birthday.

“Hello, mortal girl,” someone called from the doorway.

Sheetal glanced up to see Rati. Why hadn’t Minal stopped her from coming in? Her reflections swarmed the mirrors as she entered the chamber, an elegant star maiden clad in a blue-and-silver sari so vibrant it glowed to match the hair piled high on her head. “You should have taken my offer.”

“Considering you still haven’t given me a concrete reason to trust you, let’s call that a hard no.” Sheetal tried to push past, but Rati blocked the way.

“You may not believe it, but I have no wish to embroil you in something for which you share no blame.” She spoke with kindness, almost enough to make Sheetal believe she meant it. “Perhaps you would hear me out?”

Sheetal sighed and folded her arms. “How do you keep finding me, anyway? It’s like you’re stalking me.”

“If you persist in carelessly blasting your emotions to the entire court, can I truly be held responsible for responding?” Rati smiled and curled one of the starlight tendrils framing her face around her finger. “You may wish to consider more restraint in the future; you never know who might be listening.”

Cursing herself, Sheetal located her feelings in the starsong and yanked them loose. She made a special effort to find her embarrassment at Rati’s reprimand—how many times was she going to forget to shield herself?—and tear it out by the roots. “Look, I’m not leaving. This is my competition to win.”

“Take comfort, girl; no one has time for the trifling struggles of Charumati’s daughter.”

“So why do you?”

Rati reclined on a nearby divan, looking for all the cosmos as if she expected to be fed grapes and fanned. “It is my belief,” she said, enunciating each syllable, “that you lack the information you need to be able to determine your own actions. I wish to correct that oversight.”

Sheetal fiddled with her braid. The tip felt smooth, not ragged. When Padmini had dressed her earlier, she must have worked some kind of cosmetic magic to hide the split ends. “Can you at least hurry it up? I have things to do.”

“For most of our lives, your mother and I were inseparable. We knew each other’s hearts as only the truest of friends can.”

“So what happened?”

Rati took a moment to answer. “One of our most favored activities was watching you mortals. We would visit the Hall of Mirrors as often as we could, and together, we made secret plans to descend to your world after reaching majority.”

“Right . . .”

“Over time, we both found mortals we wished to meet, and so we selected a date and discussed how we would slip past the guards. Though the gate was open, no one could leave without their respective Esteemed Matriarch’s and Patriarch’s consent. My parents agreed, yet we knew Charumati’s never would, so we had to proceed with stealth.

“The fateful day came, and Charumati and I approached the guards. I was to divert them while Charumati sneaked off, and then I would follow.” Rati’s chuckle lacked any humor. “All plans shine bright in theory, but the execution is often muddier than anticipated. I did not lie well enough, it seemed, for the guards detained me. Your mother, however, ran past them and escaped.”