“No,” I interrupted. “He thinks I am foolish as well.”
“I do not think you are foolish,” Manthara said gently. She moved in front of me and secured a strand of runaway hair with a pin, giving me a small smile. “It is admirable that you want to improve yourself. I just fear you will have little use for such things. I am sure it is hard to live here, surrounded by men, but there are other ways to be strong. You are already learning—see how the palace staff admire you.”
“Can I not be strong in many ways?” I asked her. “I want to learn this for myself.”
“Of course.” Manthara picked up my dirty clothes, her expression grave. “You are your own mistress.”
Yudhajit stayed true to his word and his teachings. As time passed, he began bringing weapons to our lessons. First, a simple bow. He stood behind me as I drew the string, lifting my elbow, correcting my stance, giving encouragement. It was hard work that left my arms numb, and so between lessons I began lifting objects around my room to gain strength.
After several months, Yudhajit set up a range of targets for me throughout the hills. I ran across the grass, and each time I spotted a target, I planted my feet, pulled the bowstring back, and let loose. Yudhajit followed behind me, shouting with joy at each hit. Some targets were far away, but when I pulled the string back as far as it would stretch, my arm did not tremble. Others required me to crest an incline, and yet my thighs did not burn. For almost an hour, I practiced. And when we studied the targets at the end, nearly every arrow had hit the center.
We flopped onto the grass afterward, tired from the exertion. I closed my eyes for a moment. With both of us lying sweaty in the dirt, I could imagine that I had been a warrior my whole life.
After that, Yudhajit insisted that I learn how to drive a war chariot, even though what I really wanted was to learn how to use a sword.
I had cautiously begun reentering the Binding Plane, using only the gentlest of touches on the strings and threads around me, and withdrawing at even the smallest tremor. So I sent a suggestion, just a tiny push, across our blue cord. Would swordfighting not be more fun?
“Our kingdom is known far and wide for its horsemanship,” he insisted. “You know how to ride. Driving is what you need to master next.” And, reluctant to test him or our bond, I complied.
At our next meeting, I arrived at our usual spot and found him waiting there with two matched horses and a chariot he had clearly stolen from the palace grounds. The horses tossed their heads, nickering, and I rubbed their noses in affection before examining the chariot itself.
It was large, designed to be swift and easily maneuvered. I ran a hand against the wood, marveling that something so vicious could feel so smooth.
“You can observe while I drive them in a simple circle,” he said.
The day was a beautiful one, so I settled on a rock on the side of the hill to watch.
It went well at first, but after a few minutes, the horses seemed to decide they preferred to run in a straight line. He struggled to get them back in control, eventually pulling them to a halt and dropping the reins in disgust. He hopped down from the chariot, face red, and any jibing remark I was considering slipped from my mind. “You did very well,” I told him sincerely.
“I don’t know what happened,” he growled.
“Shall I try?”
He shrugged half-heartedly, and so I climbed into the box of the chariot and took the reins in my hands. As I stood behind the team of horses, adrenaline rushed through me. I flicked the reins and the horses began moving forward, slowly at first, then faster. The box was steady beneath me, and I felt as though the world had slowed. I tugged instinctively on the reins, bracing my weight, and the team turned in a smooth arc. My heart pounded in my chest, light and free. I pulled a bit harder, and the horses responded, moving in a steady circle. The grin that split my face was not a conscious choice.
I snapped the reins and the chariot leapt forward, but I kept my balance. I was one with the wheels, the horses, the world. We danced our way across the field, until at last, the surge of power buoying me began to fade and I remembered my audience.
I climbed down from the chariot, trying to force my cheeks into a more reserved expression. Yudhajit’s face was stony, his shoulders hunched in palpable frustration, and I felt a slight churn of guilt. “You were a good teacher,” I said.
“No, I wasn’t,” he said, and seemed to shake himself. “But you—you were excellent, Kaikeyi!”
I had truly not been expecting such praise “Really?” I asked.