“Their rules hold us back, do they not?” Ravana shrugged, as though he was not speaking complete blasphemy. But my stomach clenched, for if we were overheard—or if the gods took notice—we would suffer greatly, royalty or not. “My kingdom is constantly punished for every improvement we make, every step we take toward healing and science. I am going to Lord Shiva to beg him to spare us, to let us go forward and bring others into enlightenment as we see fit.”
“What are you talking about?” I hissed. “The gods—” I wanted to say always have our best interests at heart, but my mouth said, “protect us.”
He stepped toward me. “Are you sure about that? Then why should they punish me for progress? Or you, or anyone else for that matter?”
I moved toward the door, studiously ignoring his question, for I did not want to admit what it stirred inside me. Some part of me heard Ravana’s words and recognized truth.
But it was all too much. A whole world had just opened up to me, and with it, opportunities I did not yet fully understand.
Maybe Ravana had a grander vision for the future. But he was a man, and could dream like that. This new Binding Plane, the potential of the present—that was enough for me.
“I am still not sure I can take the scrolls from you,” I said. “It does not seem fair.”
He sighed. “All right. Let us simply say that in exchange for the scrolls you owe me a favor, should it be in your power to give it, and leave it there.”
The symbolism of the gesture felt right.
“Thank you, Raja Ravana. I truly hope one day I can repay you.” I clutched the scrolls to my heart and left his rooms, wondering what favor I could possibly ever grant him. But I quickly put it out of my mind: I doubted our paths would ever cross again, and I had other things to concern myself with.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THANKS TO RAVANA’S INCREDIBLE gift, the whole world opened up to me in a burst of color. I learned how to view all of the Binding Plane at once and lost myself for hours in the brilliant webs. Thin skeins of orange and red created tracks of fire around the palace, while threads of blues and greens sent beautiful rivers through every part of the court. Against the faded gray hues my surroundings took on when I entered the Binding Plane, the bonds and connections stood out ever more brightly. The Plane had its own landscape, and I came to feel like its god.
But one problem remained that couldn’t be solved with the Binding Plane. As the weeks went by and I went again and again to my husband’s bed, my moon cycle did not change. Every moon I bled, and every moon I failed to produce an heir.
In the privacy of my own room, I worried over the many possibilities for my childlessness. My occasional evening horseback rides. My work in the Binding Plane.
My divine abandonment.
Hardest to bear was the disappointment of Kaushalya and Sumitra. Kaushalya especially had given up on the idea that she would ever bear the raja a child, and I had come to consider her a true friend. Letting her down filled me with shame, and sadness at causing her such pain. Despite all my maneuverings in becoming Dasharath’s bride, I was now a worthless third queen.
When Dasharath summoned me to his chambers nearly fifteen moons after my move to Ayodhya, I delayed as long as possible. Just the idea of trying again twisted up my insides. Manthara forced me out the door, reminding me that no matter how I felt about it, Dasharath was my raja and I had to obey.
My treacherous feet bore me forward even as my mind protested. I stood outside his rooms, considering for a fleeting moment using my influence over Dasharath to make him forget his desires. Finally, I lifted my hand to knock. The door swung open before I even touched it, and Sumitra’s cheerful face peered out at me.
I blinked. Did Dasharath now want two of us at a time?
“Here she is! No need to send a servant out to find her,” Sumitra said, beckoning me inside. I followed her through the chambers.
“Good.” Dasharath sat on the edge of his bed, and Kaushalya sat on the floor by his feet. Sumitra knelt beside her, and I forced myself to assume the same submissive posture. At least it seemed that I would not be expected to perform any conjugal acts tonight.
“I believe there is a reason why all of your wombs have failed to bear a child,” Dasharath said. He spoke quickly, as though he did not like the words. “That reason is me.”
I nearly toppled into Sumitra, trying to hide my surprise. Men never took responsibility for infertility—that was a woman’s curse.
“I have not performed the proper rituals for the gods. I have been too preoccupied with expanding our territories and administering to the needs of the kingdom, and so neglected my spiritual role. This kingdom has not had a Yagna in a generation. The gods are punishing me by withholding an heir.”