“Ashvin is falling behind, have you noticed?” Yudhajit interrupted my daydreaming.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows. He had spoken quite casually, but this was not a casual matter. “Falling behind? In what?”
“Mostly his physical studies. He used to be a decent archer, but now he’s merely passable, and he’s not progressing at all in swordplay or riding.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I said, dismayed. I was rarely allowed out onto the practice field where my brothers trained. And Ashvin was the quietest of my brothers and least likely to complain.
“You don’t have to notice everything on your own.” Yudhajit sat upright so he could face me. “That’s why you have me. Should I talk to him?”
Ashvin had come down with a fever two moons ago and complained of pain so great that two servants carried him down to the deepest cellar and submerged him in the coolest bath they could draw. He had seemed to recover—but perhaps he hadn’t, not fully. “I think it might be better if I speak to him,” I said.
“If you insist.” Yudhajit glanced up at the sky, noting the position of the sun. “Kaikeyi! We should go.”
I collected and wrapped the spears and secured them to Yudhajit’s horse. Despite my protests and attempts to kick him, he lifted me up onto mine, then mounted his in an easy motion.
“Race you back?” he asked.
“That’s not fair, I have to let you win. Nobody can catch me riding at such an unladylike speed.”
“I’ll race you to the top of the first hill then,” he said, smiling at me. I knew that smile worked wonders on all the court ladies, but I merely rolled my eyes.
“What will you give me if I win?” I asked.
“My undying love and affection?”
I snorted and spurred my horse. “I already have that!” I shouted over my shoulder as Yudhajit cursed at me.
My brothers adored me. But, now that Yudhajit had mentioned it, it occurred to me that Ashvin had not chosen to spend much time with me since his illness. I lingered by the stables, thinking I might speak to him after his riding practice, but was told he had missed it entirely. So I went instead to his rooms, and found him reclined on his cot, reading.
“What?” he asked sullenly when I entered the room. Out of all my brothers besides Yudhajit, Ashvin usually looked the most like me. But his small nose and tapered chin had become sunken over the past few months, giving him a sickly appearance that his shoulder-length curtain of black hair could not hide. Ashvin acted nothing like how I would have behaved had I had the privilege of being a boy, but then again, most boys knew nothing of their incredible luck. Instead of immersing himself in his weapons training or speaking his mind when invited to by my father, he always tried to shrink into the shadows and avoided the outdoors and the training fields whenever he could.
“How are your riding lessons going?” I kept my voice deliberately light and didn’t look at him, instead moving to the paper window. He would wilt under too much attention.
“Fine.”
“And your swordplay? How is it progressing?” I pressed.
“Fine.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” I said gently, lowering myself to the edge of his bed.
He shrunk away from me ever so slightly.
“I think I will be dismissing your instructor. Clearly he is not doing a good job.”
“No!” Ashvin protested, showing more emotion than he had for our whole conversation.
I hid a smile. “No? We cannot have you falling behind.”
“It’s not his fault,” Ashvin whispered, almost to himself. I stayed silent, waiting and—
“I can’t do it.”
“Do what?” I asked.
He hung his head, and I clenched my fingers to stop myself from stroking his hair. It would only embarrass him. Instead, I found our bond, a strong white sinew, and sent him the lightest of suggestions. Tell me.
Ashvin sighed. “Ride. Or hold a sword properly. My elbows and my knees—” He stopped.
“Take your time,” I said.
Ashvin shifted slightly. “They hurt. Ever since I got sick, they hurt all the time and even more when I’m in the practice yard.”
“I see.” At last I turned toward Ashvin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it would get better,” he said. The admission clearly bothered him. “What’s wrong with me?”
“I don’t know.” To Ashvin, false vows were worse than worrisome truths. He hated the usual childhood promise that everything will be fine. “But I will speak to the healers. This is a side effect of some of the worst fevers; you are not alone. I think they have herbs and exercises that have helped others. They can help you.”