Star Daughter(72)
“And?”
“There might have been some kissing. . . .” Minal craned her neck to stare up at the heavens. “I really like her. Like, a lot. And she likes me, too.”
Minal almost sparkled, she was so happy. It was another reason Sheetal had to stay and see things through. “She’d be stupid not to.”
And if she was being honest, her heart pointed out, she had a third reason, too: she really wanted Dev to hear her sing.
She’d kept that private for so long. The thought that she didn’t have to anymore, that he would actually hear what she could do, that it was his turn to be enchanted while her voice soared and dipped as it cast a starry spell, sent bubbles through her blood. The thought of his eyes on her, awed, was like a balloon rising inside her, getting lighter and lighter. Filling her with a rush of giddiness.
Except then the balloon popped. It was too late, like everything. They were pretty much broken up, and anyway, what if the only reason he had ever cared about her voice—about her—was because he knew she was part star?
She couldn’t let herself brood about that anymore. It hurt too much.
“I don’t know what to do about Rati, but I can prove I didn’t take those puppets. We have to find who did. They’ve got to be in someone’s room, right?” she asked. “I mean, unless a star hid them, but let’s pretend that’s not an option for now.”
She really hoped it wasn’t—any of the delegates from the convocation had enough reason to do it, and she’d never know.
“And it’s not like I was just wasting time learning how to sew feathers.” A grin spread across Minal’s face, making her blue eye shadow shimmer. “Padmini might have let slip that she knows where the spare keys to all the champions’ rooms are. . . .”
“Excellent.” Sheetal steepled her fingers and cackled like a supervillain. Hadn’t Minal said Padmini secretly wanted to rebel? “So I just have to convince her to get them for us.”
Minal waggled her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “I always wanted to be a spy.”
23
Just like Sheetal had arranged, Padmini came to get her two seconds after Minal and she had sat down in the dining hall. Padmini didn’t have to pretend to be irritated; she’d barely agreed to the scheme to begin with. “Do not tell me you forgot your fitting with the tailors? They were kind enough to make time for you, and yet you keep them waiting. Come!”
Sheetal made an aggravated noise that wasn’t exactly fake, either. After three hours of vocal and dilruba practice that left every part of her body aching and another half hour persuading a skittish Padmini to help, she could have gobbled up every plate the servers were bringing out now. So to smell the bouquet of aromas—the rich, savory spices; the promise of creamy, flavorful lentils and fried puri; the delicate scent of nine-vegetable biryani studded with cashews and sultanas—and have to leave it all behind? Her stomach cramped in mutiny.
Sachin and Priyanka snickered with Sachin’s companion, obviously loving their front-row seats to the Sheetal-getting-scolded show. Jeet, however, still looked out of it, and Leela and her companion politely disregarded the whole spectacle.
Dev wasn’t anywhere in sight, and Sheetal couldn’t be more grateful.
“But we didn’t get to eat yet—” Minal whined, laying it on a little thick.
“There is no time,” Padmini cut in. “Let us go.”
In case any stars were tuning in to the sidereal song, Sheetal played up her exasperation. She let a few nerves ring out, too. Let them think she was intimidated. “Ugh, fine.”
She glanced back at the feast set out before the other champions, then followed Padmini to the exit.
“Remember,” Padmini said, “we are only going there to be seen. Answer their questions, but avoid being drawn into deep conversation.” She held herself tensely, and Sheetal wondered if she might still back out. “When I return from the storage room with the keys, follow my lead.”
The next few minutes were a blur as Padmini rushed them through the ornamented halls. At first, Sheetal avoided meeting the eyes of the stars they passed. What if she gave herself away? Or worse, what if she already had?
But Padmini took full advantage of being on display, waxing lyrical about potential style concepts and the availability of specialty silks until no one could possibly mistake where they were going. She was much better at subterfuge than Sheetal would’ve guessed, and she even seemed to be enjoying it.
They reached the tailors’ atelier. It was like the fabric stall at the Night Market, but on a much grander scale and fully in the stars’ trichromatic palette. Saris hung from ceiling racks like Persian carpets, gleaming and glittering; silver looms whirred in midweave, strung with ropes of cloud and moonbeam; tables sat laden with scrolls displaying various patterns and design sketches. An open closet overflowed with loops of silver, blue, and black embroidery floss. Stars of all genders bustled about, nattering as they went.
This was where Padmini worked? Sheetal wanted to climb right into the bins and bury her face in the fairy-tale fabrics. Next to her, Minal looked like she might explode with glee.
Padmini led them right into a conversation about the stars’ lives, the people they knew, their worries about being able to finish all the outfits for Nani and her family in time for the ball tomorrow, their excitement for the competition. She casually mentioned how well Sheetal had been honing her abilities and assured the others their preparations were proceeding right on schedule.