Star Daughter(74)

Among the mess of wadded-up tissues on the dresser sat a framed photo of an old man with a mustache making a Kathputli puppet dance. That had to be Priyanka’s grandfather. Sympathy Sheetal didn’t want to feel spilled over her. Why did it have to be like this? She didn’t even want the prize!

Padmini’s warning sounded in her ears, and Sheetal hurried to cull her reaction from the astral melody. That was all she needed: pity for Priyanka, of all people, giving her away.

Half expecting a starry hand to land on her shoulder at any second, she checked the bathroom, under the beds, and between the sheets. Even Priyanka’s roller suitcase. No puppets.

At least, she thought, relieved, Priyanka wasn’t lying. She peeked into the hallway to make sure no one was coming, then a second time, before hurrying back out and locking the door behind her.

Minal had just come out of Leela’s room. Nothing, she mouthed.

Sheetal shot her a thumbs-up and knocked on Jeet’s door. No answer here, either. After inspecting the hallway in both directions, twice, she inserted the key into the lock.

Then came the sound she’d been dreading: voices in the distance. Oh, crap.

As she ripped the key back out, the door opened, and she fell into the room, sprawling painfully over somebody’s foot.

She rolled onto her back to see Dev crouching down next to her, and his expression was anything but friendly in the light of the dangling star lanterns. The familiar lock of hair tumbled into his dark eyes, and she found herself wishing she could tuck it behind his ear. Wishing she could reach up and cradle his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his face nearing hers.

She met his question with a challenge of her own. “Why weren’t you at dinner?”

“So you broke in?” Dev shook his head. “You’re something else.”

“Oh, so you think that’s worse than someone trying to frame me for theft?” Sheetal wanted to shake him. To kiss him.

He reached out a hand, almost brushing her face, and her lips tingled in anticipation of his touch. But then he ran it through his hair instead. “What do you want me to say, Sheetal?”

She couldn’t let him see how lonely, how stupid she felt, so she scrambled to stand and put some space between them.

What did she want him to say? That he missed her. That he wanted to kiss her, too.

“You tell me,” Sheetal said finally. She appraised the room. Two backpacks, a duffel bag, and a suitcase sat arranged in the corner, though half-folded clothes spilled from the duffel bag. She could guess whose it was. Neat piles of books, pens, notebooks, and even a tablet with an attached keyboard covered the intricate ebony desk. Nothing suspicious in sight.

She scooted around the beds and reached for a silver cabinet handle. “Where are the puppets?”

“Stop that!” Dev said, pulling her away. His hands were warm on her arms, and despite herself, she shivered. “Why are you trying to ruin things between us?” It was almost a plea.

“Me?” Sheetal cried, outrage kindling the fire at her core. Silver radiance flared through the room. She didn’t care anymore about keeping her voice down. “Why don’t you ask everyone else why they’re ruining things?”

The door banged open again, and two people appeared in the doorway. “Get down!” Dev hissed.

Sheetal instinctively threw herself to the floor by the second bed. Crap. Crap, crap, crap! Grabbing the edge of the coverlet, she tugged it down and over herself to hide the glow until she could will it away.

Luckily, Jeet was too wrapped up in his guest to notice. “Thanks for listening. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank you for helping look for my marionettes,” Priyanka said, her voice pitched low. “That was really sweet.”

Then Sheetal heard footsteps as they came into the room, followed by soft smacking sounds. She drew back in disgust. Unfortunately, that made the blanket slide off her face, giving her a perfect view of the action.

“So what did you think?” The note of hope in Jeet’s voice made him sound younger. He held a black Moleskine notebook. “That story was my first ever pro sale. I wanted it to be a raw look at the exploitation of the working class and the sickness of corporate greed. It’s, like, the monster that lurks in the shadows, you know?”

If only Sheetal could pull the blanket over her eardrums.

“Oh, totally!” Priyanka said. “Those themes in it really resonated with me. I felt slapped—but in a good way.” She laughed, all sultry, and tilted her wineglass so the ice-pale liquid sloshed as she leaned into him. “Besides, that bottle of wine you found didn’t hurt, either.”

From where he stood by the wall, Dev coughed a very fake, I’m here, too cough. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“We went for a walk,” Jeet slurred, obviously having had a glass or two of his own already. “But where were you? You never came to dinner.”

“Yeah, I—” Dev frowned and stepped closer to him. “Wait, are you drunk? The competition’s tomorrow!”

“It’s just frostberry wine. This stuff doesn’t last.” Twisting slightly so Priyanka and Dev couldn’t see, Jeet tipped a tiny vial over his wineglass. Turning back, he gulped down the drink. “Anyway, you can celebrate with us now. Look, Priyanka, my cousin-brother’s here!”