The Serpent's Secret (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #1)(32)

Neel stood in front of his father’s throne. Its back was a golden peacock’s open feathers, and its armrests each a roaring lion’s head.

As I approached, I realized Neel was mid-story.

“… and then she vomited these out,” he explained. “I’m pretty sure they are the Prince Lalkamal and the stable master’s daughter, Mati.” The golden and silver spheres vibrated and rolled around in front of the throne.

The Raja was weeping fat, embarassing tears. He looked a lot like Lal, but older and softer. Precious gems sparkled from his ears and the rings decorating every single one of his fingers. And on his shoulder, like yet another ornament, was the golden bird, Tuntuni.

“Our son and heir!” the Raja groaned. “How could you do this? Your only job was to protect your brother and future soverign—with your life if necessary! What have you done? What have you done?”

Neel’s face grew stony, his dark brows knitting together. “Father, I swear I will do everything in my power to bring my brother back.”

“Not everything!” the Raja shrieked, jumping up and almost dislodging Tuni from his shoulder. “You promised to control that part of yourself!”

“You know that’s not what I meant!” Neel practically growled, and the Raja flinched, sitting quickly back down in his seat.

I might have flinched a little too. Neel appeared scarier than I’d ever seen him look. He was even shaking a little, as if desperately trying to control his temper. It was like watching someone put a lid on a volcano.

“I don’t know anything about you anymore, boy.” The Raja’s words were angry but his voice was trembling. He looked like he was going to say something else, but was interrupted by a number of women bursting into the throne room.

“This is all of your causing!” A stunning woman in a buttercup-yellow sari and diamond jewelry knocked over a bunch of courtiers to rush toward the throne. When she got to the golden ball, she collapsed, pounding her fists on the marble floor. A gaggle of similarly dressed women—in necklaces and bangles, diamond nose rings and tiaras—followed buttercup lady into the room, and, after a minute of watching her cry, began to wail too.

“To see our queens so distraught is terribly vexing to us.” The Raja blew his nose into a large, lacy handkerchief.

Neel’s face lost a little of that thunderous expression, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Ah, this must be Lal’s mother and the other stepmothers.

The head queen’s long-lashed eyes flashed at Neel as she screeched, “This is your fault. You are no prince of this realm, demon-born spawn!”

Whoa. Lal’s mom was giving the Rakkhoshi Queen a run for her status as wickedest stepmother of the year.

Instead of exploding in rage, Neel’s voice took on an icy, sarcastic civility. “How pleasant to see you too, my royal stepmother,” he mocked, bowing low.

The buttercup queen then turned her venom on me. “It is you who has brought this evil wind into our kingdom again, you moon rock, you viper child, you serpent in girl’s clothing!”

“My darling lady,” the Raja cooed, “this is the Princess Kiranmala, exiled these many years to the land of”—he shuddered—“two dimensions. What will she think of us if we behave so? Come, my dear, you must not distress yourself. We do not desire you to become ill!”

“Royal husband.” Now the queen’s tone was cloying. “You will exile them, won’t you? You will banish them from the kingdom for what they have done to my son, your heir, the future Raja of this kingdom?”

I wanted to hate her, but she was right. I had done this to her son, twice over. Once by separating him from Neel, and then again by inviting the Rakkhoshi Queen into the kingdom. I felt smaller than a cockroach and only half as loved.

“My royal stepmother,” Neel said, his voice tight, “Princess Kiranmala didn’t do this to Lal. It was my fault entirely. No one else’s.”

Neel’s words confused me. Why was he taking all the blame?

“Do not address me, boy!” the woman shrieked at Neel. “And do not tell me about this”—she indicated me—“snake in the grass, this asp, this cobra dropping!”

Neel kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, but I could see that muscle twitching at his jaw that told me how angry he really was. The volcano, it seemed, was bubbling again.

One of the other queens was staring at my clothes. “You do realize that you have, like, demon snot on your shirt?” she twitted through pink lips. “I mean, seriously grody!”

“Yes, and it’s demon spit, thanks,” I muttered.

“My queens, we observe your sister-queen is a bit distressed.” The Raja waved his handkerchief in the direction of Lal’s mother. “Perhaps you can remove her from the throne room and allow her to get some well-deserved rest.”

“I refuse to leave without my son! I will not leave without the golden ball!” Lal’s mother shouted, but at the Raja’s slight shake of the head, several queens grabbed each of her arms and legs and began forcing her out of the room.

“It’s all of your faults! You all did this to my precious boy!” the queen yelled as she was bustled away. “Not to mention all the time he spent with that horse-girl, that stable wench! No good can come from mixing with the poor, I tell you! No good can come from letting the son of a rakkhoshi and the daughter of a snake loose in the kingdom!”