This was a changed Kosala. I had not prevented Yudhajit’s death. I had caused my family great pain. But there were others besides the gods and the godsforsaken. Their paths were not set. And it seemed possible—no, with each passing day it seemed certain—that perhaps I had been able to change something after all.
I returned, day after day. I lurked near lessons, wandered among stalls, and even snuck my way into the treasury, watching young women my sisters and I had sent there sorting coins. I drank in every sight greedily. I was a desert wanderer who had happened at last upon an oasis.
I could not help these women anymore, but I did not need to. Now they helped me.
“Has this one caught your eye?” one woman asked me when I stared at the small clay horse displayed among her various dolls.
“My son had one like this,” I said. “When he was young.”
She gave me a smile. “My husband made my children toys like this when they were young too. When they got older, we decided to make them for others.”
“Do you like the work?” I asked, hungry to hear more of her story.
“Yes. He is a skilled craftsman, but if he tried to sell them, we would never sell a single ware. I love talking to people, and now our daughter has an excellent dowry.”
My heart was so full I thought I might cry, an absurd reaction to some children’s toys. Instead, I bought the horse. I walked slowly back up the path to the palace, feeling for the first time in a long time that moving forward was not an impossible effort.
The door was open when I reached my room, and I entered warily, wondering if some servant had left it open or something worse was afoot.
“Ma,” Bharata said from inside. I startled. I had not thought to hear my son’s voice again. He sounded choked. “I’m glad you are here. I worried when we couldn’t find you, but eventually we received word from the palace and I came as fast as I—” He took a deep breath, slowing the torrent of confusing words. “Can I speak with you?”
I stepped inside and closed the door. Bharata stood differently, his shoulders back and his posture confident. There was something in his bearing of his father, and of his uncle, even though the two men had looked nothing alike. I did not know what to say, and the lump in my throat grew painful.
“I am going to take the throne, Ma,” Bharata said after several moments of silence. “I know it may sound sudden after my insistence I would not, but I’ve realized the folly in what I did. Kosala needs peace, and stability. It needs what Father brought to the kingdom, with you by his side. I am so sorry it took this… Uncle’s… this tragedy for me to realize that.” He took another steadying breath. “But I am here, and I will listen to you now.”
I could not understand his words. I took two unsteady steps to a stool and sat down, the toy dangling from my numb fingers. Bharata’s eyes alighted on the little horse. “I had something like that, didn’t I? When I was young?” I nodded numbly. The reminder of who he had once been forced me to confront that this was real. I was not imagining this, and he was not making some terrible joke. He was standing before me saying these words with purpose.
I had assumed Rama’s control would be with him forever. But now, in the colorless world of the Plane, I found no trace of that bright blue. Could it be?
“Rama had one of these too,” I said. But no blue bond appeared. Bharata had somehow freed himself, all on his own. My heart stretched, beating fast, bursting with pride. But my head ached too, for if Bharata had only decided this a fortnight ago, my brother would still be alive. And yet it had taken my brother’s death for Bharata to realize his folly.
My thoughts circled in this way, until Bharata asked, uncertainly, “Ma?”
I shook myself from my stupor and found myself smiling, despite everything. The women of Kosala were strong. I could be too. “Do you really mean that?” I asked.
Bharata ducked his head. Gone was my mischievous, troublemaking child, and in his place was a young man who stood on his own. “I have said some horrible things to you. Things you did not deserve. I am ashamed, and I hope that one day you can forgive me. It was like I was a different person. But watching Uncle Yudhajit die, something in me just snapped.”
I remembered then what he had done. “Is Shatrugna—”
“The healers say Shatrugna will recover, but I hurt him badly.”
I wanted to tell him, You did the right thing, but what I really meant was that half of me wanted Shatrugna to pay the ultimate price for what he had done and part of me couldn’t bear to see him hurt at all, and in the end, Bharata’s punishment seemed just. “And all of a sudden you have realized the error of your ways?” I asked, trying to infuse some kindness into the harsh words.