“Or,” Rama said slowly, turning back to me, “whatever places you outside my influence makes it harder for you to see the good in what I’m doing.”
He was right, in a way, and I hated it. Being gods-touched, and godsforsaken, had made me far more skeptical of the gods. And now, my own child. “Your father is not choosing to abdicate,” I said instead. “It is far too soon for him to be stepping down. He has many years left to rule, and yet, you are making him give up the throne. Does that not disturb you? The kingdom is strong, prosperous—”
“Which is why it must be now, before Kosala weakens, before the asuras’ power spreads.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “Why do you mistrust me so? I respect my father, and I always heed his counsel. With his blessing, I am doing what is best for the kingdom.”
“How do you know?” I asked him. “How do you know what is best for the kingdom?”
“Because I am a god!” he said. I could see it again, that great shadow he cast, and hear the ringing in his voice.
But it did not frighten me anymore. Instead, I was filled with a deep sorrow. He was convincing himself of his righteousness with every word he spoke, blinded to the truth. “You are still so young,” I told him. “And you have grown used to getting your way. But that does not make your way right. Wait to take the throne. I promise it can wait.” In my voice was a plea I hoped he would hear. This was as close as I could get to begging my son for something.
Instead, Rama shook his head and began striding toward the end of the corridor. “I do not have time to keep talking in circles with you, Ma. I wish you would just listen to me.”
“And I wish you would listen to me,” I said softly. But he did not hear. He stepped through the door and was gone.
Although Rama and I were still in our uneasy truce, he trying to recruit me while I tried to talk him down, I knew there were others in the court—the young men who would become advisors or those who had simply never liked me—who saw our split in the council and Rama’s impending coronation as an opportunity. In small ways, they began their work, spreading rumors about the Women’s Council or snubbing me during court events and social gatherings. I tried to pay them no mind. But one moon after my return to Ayodhya, they became impossible to ignore.
“Did you hear about the incident with the serving maids?” Sumitra asked me as we walked arm in arm through the gardens—a routine that remained a sanctuary for me.
“No, I did not. What happened?” Today, petals of flowers carpeted the path. They released a fragrant odor as we crushed them underfoot, but beneath that was the faintest scent of rot.
“How did you not hear of this?” Kaushalya chimed in, a strange note in her voice. I glanced at her and saw that her elegant brows were drawn together.
“Kaushalya feels sorry for the girls,” Sumitra confided. “But I would not. They made their own beds.” She gave a little giggle as though making some joke.
Kaushalya pursed her lips in disapproval. “I do feel sorry for them. Several of the women in our employ, it seems, were rumored to also be working in a brothel. The accusation was made anonymously, and the head of staff immediately dismissed them, despite not knowing whether the gossip was even true.”
“What?” I asked, struggling to catch up. “Were they new?”
“No. Some of them have worked here for years. They’re quite old for the brothel too. You might remember Saralaa or Mugdha—they were the first to seek audience with us, back when we had only a women’s circle.”
I felt hot and cold at the same time. “Yes, I remember them,” I whispered. “The accusation was anonymous?”
“I do not think you should worry overmuch about that,” Sumitra said. “After all, those beyond reproach would never have such things said about them in the first place.”
“Of course,” I muttered, for there was nothing I could do now, after the fact. Kaushalya gave me an odd look, lips downturned, and I glanced away.
Rama’s head might have been preoccupied with demons, but those who saw him as an opportunity to gain power had much more material concerns. If the goal was to purge my influence from the palace even at the lowest levels, they were succeeding. I was relieved that Riddhi had left to care for her aging mother and had been spared such an indignity.
The more I thought about it, though, the more I wondered whether perhaps this was what I could bring to Rama to show him the dangers of his influence, of his disrupting the balance of power in Kosala before he was ready. Surely he would not wish for innocent women to be dismissed from the palace?