I pasted an indifferent expression onto my face. Whatever the court would think of me now, they would not find me weak, or uncertain.
“She has claimed those two boons today,” Dasharath continued.
Whatever happened, I would not waver.
“Her first request is that Rama be exiled to the forest for ten years.”
Gasps echoed throughout the room. Sumitra’s hand rose to her mouth in shock. Rama sprang to his feet and looked right at me. I could see the surprise in his eyes, the hurt—and behind that, the rage. All around the room, the blue loops of control Rama had created flared into brilliant existence.
“Her second wish is for Bharata to take the throne during that time. I am powerless to repel her wickedness, for I swore an oath to the gods.” The crowd broke out into murmurs and shouts, and Dasharath faltered. Rama caught his arm. “Rama, my son. I am so sorry.”
Rama looked once more to me, his expression one of naked betrayal. Then he helped Dasharath back to his throne. I struggled to maintain my cool demeanor as I watched my son stand with his back to the crowd for a moment, watched him force his expression into a more neutral gaze, watched him take a deep breath, before turning back around.
“A boon is an oath that cannot be ignored. An oath witnessed by the gods. If this is what my father orders, then of course I will obey,” Rama said, lifting his arms. He paused. “Sita and I will depart Ayodhya tomorrow.”
My gaze shot to hers, and I saw her still. We all knew that she would have no choice but to go along with it. The whole court had heard Rama’s proclamation, and they were under his thrall besides.
“I too will go with them,” Lakshmana proclaimed, rising to his feet. “My brother will not be without protection.” At this, my mouth dropped, my entire mask falling away. Of course Lakshmana would do this. And sacrifice ten years of his life in the process.
I heard Sumitra whisper No, felt her hand clutch my arm. She must have not fully comprehended that all of this was my doing, or she would not be touching me now.
“Thank you, brother.” Rama embraced Lakshmana, and over Rama’s shoulder, Lakshmana mouthed a single word at me. I shook my head, uncomprehending, and he mouthed it again.
Panchavati, it looked like he was saying. Panchavati? I searched myself for any reference to that name, but none came to mind. Lakshmana’s memory was too good, how was I to know what he meant—
And then I knew. Panchavati was a forest to the south of the Vindhya range. At its eastern border lay Janasthana.
I raised my chin. “Lakshmana, you are so good to accompany your brother and his wife to Panchavati Forest.” I projected my voice over the hubbub in a slow, unhurried manner.
“Panchavati Forest?” Rama turned to me now, his expression unreadable.
“Yes. That is the place I have selected for you to pass your exile,” I said.
“How dare you?” somebody shouted from the amassed audience. Threads in the Binding Plane frayed and snapped, but I paid them no mind even as their loss ricocheted in my stomach. I do not need the court to like me any longer, I told myself, but the strange blankness of the Binding Plane without connections turned my stomach. It was exactly the same as the real world but leached of color. Hollow.
“How dare I?” I asked, turning my head toward the crowd with practiced slowness. Even if they were under Rama’s influence, I could still command their attention for this moment. “My boons were earned, and mine to do with as I wished.”
“Traitor!” someone else called. Others shouted far less kind words.
Rama lifted a hand for silence. “My mother speaks truly,” he said. “We cannot fault her for what we perceive to be failures in judgment. Please, do not act too harshly toward her.”
“They are not harsh enough,” a voice interjected.
My heart stuttered. It was Bharata.
I stood. “Bharata,” I began, all affectations dropping away. “Bharata, please do not be angry with me.” My plans to claim my boons had been formed in a rush, all at once, and I had not stopped to consult Bharata. But this was about him too, and it had been wrong of me not to at least warn him. I bowed my head.
“How could you, Ma?” he demanded. “I thought you loved us. All of us.”
“I do. And I love this kingdom. That is why I did this,” I said, and I broke my vow to never influence him. I pushed everything I dared into our fragile, pulsating bond, every bit of love I had for him.
“You do not love us, or this kingdom.” Bharata spoke softly, but everyone quieted to hear him. “You love only power.”