“You do not need to be able to fight,” she said. “You will be radnyi of a kingdom one day. That will be all the power you need.”
In a way, she was right.
I was learning my own power more and more each day as I took over duties of the court. This had recently come to a head with Dhanteri, my mother’s former chief lady-in-waiting. I would never forget her whispered conversation with Prasad the night my mother had vanished, where she held her tongue in exchange for control of the palace’s workings. In the week before Holi, Manthara had taken me to the kitchens to hear the plans for the celebration that would follow the great bonfire. Each year, we burned an effigy of the Holika, a wicked asura who had tried to immolate her devout nephew alive. Burning the effigy would cleanse our kingdom and bring a good harvest.
The supplies were limited for the feast; the usual caravans that would bring grain and rice had been delayed, and only after the harvest would our kitchens be replenished.
I listened carefully to our cook and, when Manthara nodded, encouraged him to use our flour stores to prepare vadas, delicious balls of dough mixed with fragrant herbs, then fried until they were golden and sizzling before being dipped in tangy yogurt. Our bins of dried chickpeas were plentiful, which meant we would be able to prepare my father’s favorite spiced stew, and it was decided that we would slaughter several chickens besides—those who had become too old to lay. I felt a pang for the chickens but overall was quite pleased with myself, until the next day when Dhanteri came to confront Manthara.
“I heard you spoke to the cook,” Dhanteri said without any pleasantries.
“I did—” Manthara began.
“It is my place to make such decisions until the yuvradnyi is able,” Dhanteri continued. “I will ensure that Prasad hears about this. I cannot imagine he would want to keep you around after—”
“It was me,” I blurted, not wanting Manthara to get in trouble for my actions. “I spoke to the cook.”
Dhanteri stopped. Her expression fell slightly, before she marshaled a thin-lipped smile. “I see, Yuvradnyi. But you are still so young. You should not concern yourself with such matters.”
“I want to,” I said, stepping forward. “It is my role, is it not?” Manthara coughed behind me, or perhaps it was a laugh. Dhanteri’s eyes flashed up to Manthara, then back down to me.
“Perhaps the raja would want a more capable—”
“I hope you are not saying that Kaikeyi is not capable,” Manthara said behind me. There was an unpleasant note to her voice, one I had never heard before.
“I have been doing this for some time,” Dhanteri said. “It is simply that I am more experienced. It is laudable that you want to help. In that case, it is my place to assist you.”
“I appreciate your help,” I said, for Manthara had always taught me to be generous. “But I do not believe I need your assistance.”
“You don’t need it?” Dhanteri asked, and now she looked a bit afraid, although I did not know why.
I looked to Manthara, confused, but she gave me a small smile and a nod. “No, I do not. If these responsibilities are mine, I should be the one to handle them.”
Dhanteri looked at Manthara. She seemed sad now, only moments after looking so angry, and I did not understand.
She pivoted on her heel and walked away so briskly she might have been running.
It was only after the feast, at which Dhanteri did not appear, that I realized what I had done. I had all but dismissed her. Of course, she might have stayed, but her place would have fallen, and she was unwilling to bear that. Once I had fully claimed my role, she had no reason to stay.
This was a different sort of power than the Binding Plane, and it didn’t feel good, even when Manthara assured me that Dhanteri’s departure was inevitable, and I was simply doing my duty.
I remembered how I had felt when my father disbelieved me, dismissed my dream, and then trusted Yudhajit in the same breath. The despair that had rocked me the first evening after he sent my mother away. Even a radnyi did not have the power to stay with her children, or a yuvradnyi to gain the trust of her father. That could not—would not—be my whole life. I wanted to have power over myself, and I did not have that. In that regard, I was no different than Dhanteri.
This discomfort was still on my mind when I explained to Manthara why I wanted to fight. She must have observed something in the set of my jaw and the clench of my fists that gave her pause. “If it makes you feel strong, then by all means do it. But you do not need to prove yourself to anyone. If Yudhajit has put you up to anything—”