I barely heard the rest of what Sumitra said as we bade each other farewell, wrapped up in my own thoughts.
The next day, I attended the Mantri Parishad for the first time.
None seemed surprised to see me—Dasharath must have warned them—but I caught several men glaring at me when they thought I was not looking. In the Binding Plane, my connections to most were nonexistent wisps. But despite his severity, Virendra seemed to respect me, as did the Minister of Finance. These two men, along with the religious advisor, Manav—an elderly man with whom I shared no bond at all—formed Dasharath’s inner council. I focused on strengthening the few cords I had ever so slightly, but even by the end I had not yet built adequate rapport to contribute to the council’s deliberations. Even many of the men seemed bored, for the meeting was primarily occupied by a few ministers seeking custodianship of Sambarasura’s old territories. I doubted I would ever build the necessary connections to shout You are idiots at the arguing men without severe consequences.
When the meeting was over, I returned directly to my chambers, wanting to remove my heavy jewelry. Only after stripping off my necklace and one jhumka did I realize I had company.
Kaushalya stood at the other end of my room, half-hidden in the shadows near the window.
I dropped into an instinctual bow and then committed to it rather than repeat my first error. “Radnyi, I did not notice you there.” If she had wanted a better reception, she should not have entered my chambers and gone into my bedroom without permission.
“That much is apparent.” Kaushalya walked slowly toward me. She looked lovely as always, dark kohl framing her eyes and delicate gold gracing her long neck. “I came here to talk to you after court, but it has been some time since the public audiences adjourned.”
“I was listening to the meeting of the Mantri Parishad,” I said, gesturing behind me in a useless motion. Kaushalya knew where the court was located.
If Kaushalya was surprised, she hid it well. “A council meeting. That is no place for a young woman.”
I wanted to protest that I was not a young woman, but petulance would hardly sway her. Besides, to all others the council was no place for any woman at all.
“I am sorry you feel that way,” I said at last, blinking into the Binding Plane and finding the black bond between us. It flickered in and out of my vision, which was concerning, to say the least. I had long ago trained myself to only look at my magic from the corner of my eye, but part of me wanted to stare at Kaushalya’s chest and watch the bond. I could hardly do that though.
“You have been here half a year,” Kaushalya said, arriving in front of me. “In that time, you have barely attended court, never spoken to me or Sumitra without prompting, and shown little interest in the affairs of the king. Now you accompany him to battle, invite Sumitra to your rooms, attend council meetings, and steal my best servant.”
“I’ve done what?” I squeaked. Most women considered poaching help to be one of the most despicable sins.
“Asha. All she has done for the past several days is speak about you.”
I remembered with a start that Sumitra had talked about Kaushalya dismissing a servant just the day before. “Oh—oh, please, do not dismiss her. She was forced to attend me during the battle, and perhaps something about that frightening experience stuck in her mind.”
“Dismiss her?” Kaushalya asked, her lips disappearing entirely into a thin line. “Why on earth would I do that? No, I simply assigned her to the kitchens for a week as punishment. It was annoying, hearing her tell stories of the camp and your deeds for the fifth time. Then who should visit me yesterday but Sumitra, also talking about the great Kaikeyi. It seems I cannot escape you.” Her manner conveyed the utmost annoyance, but at the end of her tirade the bond between us had flared into firm existence.
I ducked my head to hide my grin and examined the bond. It was delicate and gleaming, like molten obsidian, and I imagined that it would feel exquisitely polished to the touch. “I am sorry, Radnyi.”
“You do not sound sorry,” Kaushalya said. “And you do not need to call me Radnyi. We are equals.”
“You will always be the first among us,” I said.
Kaushalya’s nostrils flared as she inhaled and exhaled dramatically, and still her high cheekbones and large eyes kept her face the picture of beauty. “What do you want?” That was now twice in the span of a moon someone had asked me that, when I had gone most of my life never hearing it.