But one evening, Yudhajit came to find me outside of our scheduled lessons, a nervous expression on his face. Before he even opened his mouth, I could tell he was about to shatter my fragile acceptance of my fate.
“Father’s doing what?” I shoved Yudhajit into my room, slamming the door behind me.
Yudhajit raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, I only just learned. I thought you would want to know right away.”
“Did you say anything to him? Did you tell him it was a stupid idea?” I kicked my bed, hard, biting down a yelp of pain as my foot began to throb.
Yudhajit winced and backed away. “No.”
I pushed air through my lungs, in, out, in, out, until my fists stopped trembling. I could not—should not—punch my brother, heir to Kekaya.
“So, you have some sort of plan, then?” Rage made the Binding Plane hard to summon, so in my mind I returned to the old meditation guide, reciting the mantra to find it. When the blue bond between us finally appeared, it throbbed with wild energy, resembling a skipping rope turned by two uncoordinated and excitable children. I let it slip away at once, conscious of my roiling emotions.
Yudhajit turned away and pressed his forehead against the door. He mumbled something that I couldn’t make out.
“What was that?”
“I said, I don’t think it’s a stupid idea.” He looked over his shoulder at me, but whatever expression I made must have frightened him, because he quickly dropped his head back against the door.
“I think I misheard you,” I said after a moment, grinding the words out through my bared teeth. “Unless you meant to say that it is worse than stupid?”
Yudhajit shook his head. “I know you were promised a swayamvara. And I meant to see it through. But things are changing quickly. The harvests were terrible this year. We can barely find the coin for a swayamvara, let alone the full spectacle other kingdoms will expect of us. And the dowry would have to be immense. It can’t happen the way you wanted, Kaikeyi. You need to get married soon,” he said. “The bride price that they have asked is manageable, and Kosala is so prosperous that this alliance should improve Kekaya’s situation. Raja Dasharath himself is respectable and—”
“You’re not married,” I countered.
“I’m not a woman,” Yudhajit snapped, turning around. “You have a responsibility to your family.”
“I have fulfilled the duties of the woman of the household,” I all but shouted at him. “I raised our brothers. I have helped make our court one that is widely known, admired even, in our region. Please, tell me how I have not yet fulfilled my responsibility to my family.”
“You—”
“No,” I cut him off. In that moment, I hated him. “I will not be lectured on my responsibility by you. What have you done for this kingdom?”
“One day, I will be the raja,” he said, as if that in and of itself was an achievement rather than a birthright. “This is a good match for you, Kaikeyi. You will be a radnyi.”
“What a burden to be raja,” I spat out. A deep, visceral anger had taken over my being. I could not believe he had the gall to act as though he knew best for me. “If I marry him, I will be his third radnyi, and the youngest. He has asked for me because he remains childless.” I shook my head, unable to meet my brother’s eyes. There were some things I could not share even with him, and my tangled knot of feelings about motherhood was one of them. “Everyone knows he wants a son. What does he believe? That Mother was fertile, so I must be too?”
“Is that so bad?”
“How can you be fine with consigning me to life as nothing but a brood mare? You’re my brother, Yudhajit! You’re my brother.” I blinked back hot tears.
“It won’t be like that. You will be radnyi of a great kingdom,” Yudhajit said. He took a step toward me. “It is a great honor. Even when planning the swayamvara, we did not believe Dasharath would seek your hand. Kosala is a greater kingdom than ours, perhaps the greatest Bharat knows. It has the most fertile land, the most powerful army. Just think. One day your son could have that.”
I knew rationally that Dasharath was an honorable match for me and, more importantly, my family. And yet—
“I wanted to have a choice,” I said softly. “My swayamvara is only two months away. Surely, we can wait. I will at least be able to meet the men, pick among those who complete the task, have some control over my future.”