Star Daughter(97)

Put like that, the whole thing sounded so unbelievably ridiculous. So self-important.

Sheetal’s heart cracked. No. Absolutely not. It wasn’t any different from Rati’s games. Charumati had made it sound noble, but it was only a different version of pulling strings. They’d be turning mortals into puppets, and unlike Priyanka, Sheetal didn’t want to be anybody’s puppeteer. She didn’t even know how to keep her own strings from tangling up.

Minal’s glare was as scary as Radhikafoi’s during one of her rants. “You can’t enlighten us, Sheetu. That’s not how it works.”

Dev ran a hand over his face. “How can you even ask that?”

Mortified, Sheetal stared at her glowing palms, then at her mother. Really saw her, the star who had come to Earth for adventure. Worry and love shone in those eyes bright as gemstones. Sheetal knew Charumati loved her, just like she knew her mother wanted her to be safe.

And because of that, she’d let herself get swept up in her mother’s grand plans, never stopping to check in with the people they were supposed to help. Like what Minal, what Dev, what Dad wanted didn’t count. Like she’d already written off her own mortal heritage.

Kaushal hadn’t had anyone to love him on Earth. And Charumati might love Dad, but she’d never really belonged down there.

Sheetal, though, did. She knew what the people who lived there were worth.

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She looked at her mother. “Mom, they’re right. Would you ‘redeem’ Dad, too?”

Charumati’s serene expression turned stricken.

“I mean, you’d have to, right?”

Her mother gazed at something only she could see. “I . . .”

“He’s not perfect. He’s done things wrong. He’s hurt people. Like you said, everybody does.” Sheetal appealed to Kaushal. “We can’t take people’s mistakes away from them.”

Any more than anyone could take hers. People had to grow on their own, make their own decisions, good and bad. It was those mistakes and the choice or refusal to learn from them that gave life—and art—their texture, their meaning. It had to be a choice.

And if being a full star meant she might forget that, well, she had to find another way.

Before her mother could protest, Sheetal addressed the Esteemed Matriarch and Patriarch of House Dhanishta. “I’m ready to perform.”





31


Sheetal and Minal stood on the platform by the viewing pool, where a turbaned man set a dilruba made of black crystal and gleaming silver strings before them and stepped aside. Nani had definitely delivered. Just the sight of it made Sheetal’s fingers itch with longing, made the flame at her core spring up, burning away every other thought, every fear. It was an instrument fit for a goddess, one who would use her music to show the stars what it felt to be human, to open their eyes at last. . . .

A goddess! Sheetal rubbed her sweat-slick palms together. She was just a girl, and way too much was riding on her performance. What if her fingers slipped? What if a string snapped?

What if she forgot how to play? Would the stars laugh? Mock her?

Worse, would her own family even listen to her after that?

“Try it,” Minal murmured. “Just to see.”

Sheetal nodded.

Even before she tested the strings, she knew they’d be in tune.

The sound rang in her ears, rich and high, and above all, impossibly pure. Nectar for the ears, night made music. There were no flaws in these strings. They were formed of light.

All her fears of failing melted away. Only the lure of the music existed—and Sheetal.

She couldn’t wait to play.

When she tapped into it, the starsong thrummed with anticipation. Everyone knew whatever happened tonight would change everything.

Outside their tent, Dev and Jeet were arguing. Jeet scowled. “Shut up, bhai. You’re a shitty cousin, you know that?”

Dev recoiled. He opened his mouth, paused, and opened his mouth again. “Maybe I am, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, man.”

“So it’s like that. Picking a girl over me.” Jeet’s face was as cold as the void between the stars. “Some brother you turned out to be.”

Sheetal could see the hurt poisoning Dev like venom. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but watching him crumple broke her heart.

“We have discussed this,” Nani said, coming up behind her. “That mortal boy and his ilk are irrelevant. Focus instead on your future and your life here.”

Sheetal almost laughed. Had Nani heard a word she’d said? No wonder Padmini wanted to keep Kaushal out of sight. And Charumati wasn’t going to just give up, either.

Saying no wasn’t enough. Grand speeches wouldn’t do it. The stars needed her to remind them humanity was worth something, but she couldn’t do that as their champion. What would that accomplish except prove what they already believed, that stars were superior?

There had to be something else she could do. She didn’t have long before her birthday would be over and her transformation complete.

Her transformation. That was it.

The solution had been right in front of her. It was drastic. She didn’t know if she could pull it off.

Sheetal felt a pang of regret. Was she really about to give up her opportunity to be seen?