Star Daughter(80)
“Nothing at all,” Charumati chimed in. “Once you have been inspired, you will have an hour to prepare and perform your song. Do not rush; that hour will more than suffice.” Like Nani had done a couple of days ago, she cupped her hands around a single silver flame. “Trust this, the spark within you.”
Nana refilled Sheetal’s cup with blue mango juice as Nani sighed. “My hope was that you would be able to perform first,” she said, “that you might make the freshest impression and then rest while others bore the burden of strained nerves. But it is not to be.”
In spite of your best threats and bribes, you mean. Sheetal could imagine what Nani had tried. It was a shame none of it had worked; getting her turn over with and relaxing sounded fabulous.
“Unfair as it may seem,” said Nana, an amused gleam in his eye, “ours is not the only house to wish that for its champion.” He sipped his cordial. “In order to prevent underhanded maneuvering and jockeying for position, the Esteemed Matriarch and Patriarch of House Dhanishta will draw names from a silver bowl.”
Nani huffed. “The most important thing to bear in mind is that whatever the other champions might produce, it is immaterial to you. You are a daughter of a great nakshatra, and music flows in your veins.”
“And soon,” Charumati said, touching her starry diadem, “you will receive your circlet. I cannot wait. So long we have waited to share everything with you.”
The sidereal melody resonated with her family’s pride and affection, ornaments and silver bells abounding. The glimpse of Nani’s soft smile, so unlike her, loosened the knots in Sheetal’s belly and made her feel a little shy. A little happy, even.
Underneath her ambition, Nani did care. And Sheetal wanted her to.
“It is a blessing for us all,” Nana agreed, placing his hand over hers. “Welcome home.”
26
Nani and Charumati ran Sheetal through another two hours’ worth of training and last-minute advice before Nana finally sent her off to relax.
T-minus three hours and counting until she had to get it together and save Dad. Sheetal’s pulse sent fire shooting through her veins, and it was all she could do to veil her anxiety.
“Go now and seek the company of those your own age,” Nana urged, opening the door to the corridor. “There is time yet before you must be dressed for the ball.”
The ball. Her birthday ball. Sheetal had almost forgotten about it in worrying about everything else.
With an indulgent smile, Nani shooed Sheetal out of the study. “Oh, look, Meena is here! Perhaps you two can retire to the common room for refreshments.”
“I believe you mean Minal,” Charumati corrected. She made an irked face behind Nani’s back.
Sheetal wasn’t sure “Meena” was much of an improvement on “that one you brought,” but she just couldn’t add another plate to the ones she was already desperately juggling. She would become a full star by tonight. Her mom and her grandmother each had plans for her that she still didn’t know what to do with. And before any of that, she had to win a celestial competition in front of the entire starry court with her singing and playing. Oh, and one of her rivals was her ex’s cousin-brother.
“Ah, yes, Minal,” Nani agreed, just before the door closed behind Sheetal. She stepped into the hallway, where Minal waited, having overheard the last bit of their conversation.
Being Minal, she looked unruffled, even amused. “So? How’d breakfast go?”
“It was fine.” Sheetal didn’t want to get into the whole hey, I’m not really human anymore thing right then. She knew she’d have to soon, but for now, she needed a chance to catch her breath. To enjoy the wonders of this palace she’d barely even gotten to see, never mind experience. “Can we go for a walk?”
Minal grinned. “Whatever you want, birthday girl. Consider ‘Meena’ at your service.” She slipped into the faux-subservient tone she’d used with the guards outside the palace gates. “Might I accompany you on a survey of your domain, my lady?”
“Why, certainly,” Sheetal said in the snottiest voice she could muster, offering her arm. “My apologies about Nani. The older generations are so set in their ways.” Minal just laughed.
Arms linked, the two of them strolled through the palace, from the library to the common room to the night-flower gardens to the theater where other heavenly beings performed at the stars’ invitation.
Pushing everything else from her head, from her heart, Sheetal ate up the portraits, the statuary, the inlay work and carved pillars, the lavish textiles and patterned floors, the ceilings that opened onto the firmament where the cosmic dance spun in eternity. It felt like magic, like a fairy tale come to life.
How weird—all of this was hers. Well, shared with the other stars in the court, but still. Hers.
Part of Sheetal had always known this waited for her. She wasn’t going to stay, not with Dad waiting on Earth, but knowing she could left her heart as light and fluffy as a rosewater cupcake.
This was why she hadn’t taken Rati’s offer. Why she wouldn’t.
Minal didn’t talk about Padmini, and Sheetal didn’t talk about Dev or Jeet or Charumati. Not that they had any time to—everywhere they went, stars stopped them to say hello and wish Sheetal luck. Some belonged to her nakshatra, and others didn’t, but all of them glowed enthusiastically in greeting. Over and over again, Sheetal heard variations of, “Minal has told me what a fine songstress you are, how clever and spirited! I look forward to cheering you on.”