“Thank you, my lord,” Dasharath said. “We are unworthy of your blessing.”
Agni stepped back and back into the fountain of fire and the flames rose up around him, consuming him until he was indistinguishable from the towering blaze. In the blink of an eye, the fire died down to its normal, mortal size.
I raised my hand to my chin, expecting to feel a blistering burn, but my fingers met only smooth skin.
“What did he say to you?” Sumitra whispered, coming to stand beside me. Kaushalya stood on Sumitra’s other side.
“He wanted to know why I had dared not to bow,” I whispered back. “I apologized. I explained that the hunger had made me faint and I was not in my right mind.”
“What did you shout after him?”
“I was begging forgiveness,” I said. My explanation was flimsy, so I gave our connection a quick strum.
“If you begged for forgiveness, he granted it. Put that out of your mind. The gods are not cruel.” Sumitra straightened as Dasharath approached Kaushalya with the kheer. I reached for her hand and squeezed it, trying to thank her. She squeezed back.
Kaushalya lifted the kheer to her lips and drank long and deep. As Kaushalya’s throat bobbed, my stomach roiled. I really did despise kheer. It tasted sickly sweet, like fruit that was several days overripe. It was the only sweet I could not stomach. Even in this, the gods mocked me.
Kaushalya finished drinking and passed the vessel to Sumitra. Sumitra took several swallows, then handed the vessel to me. I looked into the silver pot, and the sight of the creamy rice pudding made my empty stomach turn. I lifted it to my lips, held my breath, and took two fast swallows. When I paused to breathe, the thick coating on my tongue choked me. I could not make myself drink again.
I passed the vessel back to Sumitra. “I don’t wish to take more than my due,” I gasped out. Perhaps the others would view it as generosity and humility, rather than simply a deep hatred of kheer. I watched Sumitra struggle and could tell the moment that hunger and a desire to be out of the intense scrutiny of the public won out. She gulped down all that remained.
Dasharath raised the empty pot up to show the crowd. “It is done!”
The kheer churned in my belly. I focused on breathing in, out, in, out. Soon we would be in the palace, soon we would be at the feast, soon, soon, soon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“WHAT DID AGNI SAY to you?” Manthara asked the instant I entered my rooms.
I knew I could not lie to her. “He said they have expected me.”
“They?”
“I assume he meant the gods,” I said, sinking down onto my bed. I turned my face to the side slightly so that Manthara could hear my next words. I did not want to repeat the ugly truth. “He admitted that the gods have forsaken me.”
Manthara was silent. “I am sorry,” she finally said.
I glanced up at her, shocked by the gravity of her voice. The dupatta she often wore over her hair had ridden forward, casting shadows over her face. Her dark eyes were black, sorrowful.
“All this time I insisted that you must be mistaken, when you said the gods didn’t hear you. I treated you like a foolish child.” Her words warmed me. She believed me.
“I am foolish,” I admitted after a moment. “Sometimes. But I knew this to be true.”
“Did he tell you why they did such a thing to you? You have not committed any great sins.”
“He said—” I stopped myself, considering what Agni had told me, and despair coursed through my veins. Agni was a powerful god who acted as a conduit to bring mortal offerings to the heavens. But this time he had brought something from the gods to us—and he had brought me a message besides. Such a reversal could mean nothing good for me. “He said I was gods-touched. That the power of the gods could not work on people such as me.”
“Gods-touched,” Manthara echoed, placing a cool hand on my head. I told myself I was imagining the reverent wonder in her voice. I knew in my heart Agni’s words were a curse, not a blessing. “I always knew you were destined for something great, but this…”
“I am not destined for something great, Manthara. I am destined for something terrible. He said I was forsaken because of what I will do.” I buried my face back in my bed to mask the tears that slipped down my cheeks. I could not fathom what I might do. But to have incurred such divine wrath from birth—
Is this how Ahalya felt, knowing Indra’s eye was always upon her? Or when her husband returned and she stood in that moment between innocence and condemnation, knowing what was to happen and yet powerless to stop it?