“I am aware. My father banished her, did he not?” She thought to blindside me with something I had learned long ago. I smirked at her shock. “Do you have anything else you wish to tell me?”
“She lives now in Janasthana.”
This I had not known, but I did not want to admit it. Still, traitorous interest built under my skin.
Interest, and anger, for clearly she had a permanent enough residence that Dhanteri might know about it. And yet she had not written to me in the decade since she left, not even to provide well wishes for my wedding or the birth of my son. Dasharath’s Yagna, from the appearance of a god himself to the birth of four sons, was the kind of story that had been proclaimed across the kingdoms.
Someone with a shred more self-respect would not care about this news. But it turned out that beneath all my confidence, I was still a child.
“Janasthana,” I repeated. “That must be… nice… for her.” I tried to put the mildest hint of distaste in my words. Janasthana meant little to me. It was a faraway city, two moons’ journey at least, beyond Chedi. One had to cross mountains and jungles to get there, and for what? A few exotic goods. And apparently my mother.
Dhanteri’s disappointment was obvious. “That was all I wished to tell you. Thank you for speaking with me.” She turned to leave, her movements slow as molasses.
I sighed. “Wait.” A woman like Dhanteri would not resort to such desperate measures lightly, and no matter my dislike for her, I had sworn to myself to help all women who came before me.
“Yes, Radnyi?”
“What do you do now?”
“I recently came to Ayodhya. I am still seeking work. Nobody wants to hire an old lady like me.”
I leaned over to Kaushalya, who I knew had been listening to the exchange with great interest, although her expression was serene. “I owe you for Asha,” I said quietly. “This one is caustic, but also a hard worker and an excellent servant.” I could sense my sister queen’s skepticism, and I hoped she could in turn sense my need.
Kaushalya nodded. “You may join my staff, if you wish,” she said to Dhanteri, with the perfect cool composure I could never mimic, even though I occasionally practiced.
Dhanteri’s face lit up—she had come to try to weasel into a position on the third radnyi’s service and gotten one on the first radnyi’s instead.
I spent the rest of the council session on edge, worried Kaushalya might press me on the matter or judge me poorly for my family’s secrets once we were in private. But when we arrived at the palace, she simply squeezed my arm and whispered, “We are lucky to be in Ayodhya, are we not?” And that was the end of the matter.
“I ran into an interesting person on my way to your chambers,” Manthara said, and I startled. I hadn’t even noticed her entrance. Her arms were crossed and her mouth pressed thin, the lines around her eyes more pronounced, as though I was an unruly child skipping my classes once again. I remembered the enmity that had always existed between her and Dhanteri, and I bit back a groan.
“She came to speak with me at the Women’s Council. She wanted a position and I pitied her. But she will work under Kaushalya, not under me.”
Manthara’s eyed me. “That is all?”
Somehow, after all these years, I was still foolish enough to try to hide things from Manthara. “No. She told me that my mother lives in Janasthana.” Now as I said the words aloud, they filled me with some unidentifiable emotion, loosening my tongue. “Why would she go there? I always assumed that… that she had died, and that was why she never contacted us. But to know this? That she simply did not care enough? That makes me—” The torrent of words stopped as I realized I had no idea how I felt.
A small child standing in her father’s throne room. Alone.
Manthara, however, made no move to comfort me. “And here I thought you were intelligent, child.”
“Excuse me?”
“What, you thought that your father would let her send you letters or visit you on important occasions? You think that she could show her face even in Kosala after being banished by her husband? Kekaya had no choice. If she is still alive, I am sure that it eats at her every day. She was not heartless. A woman wishes to see her children. To meet her grandson.”
I sank abruptly to the floor. Manthara’s words made sense, and yet they sounded like an excuse. In my heart, I still felt there was no justification good enough for my mother to leave me and my brothers.
Manthara must have sensed my skepticism. “Come, Kaikeyi. You have seen this happen enough times to others. You know this is the truth.”