“And are you sure you have searched thoroughly?” I teased.
Dasharath drew himself up, feigning indignance. “I am the raja of Ayodhya. I think I am capable of finding some children.” His eyes belied his tone, pinching at the corners as he tried not to smile.
“It appears your children have outsmarted you, raja or not,” I said, not bothering to hide the laughter in my voice now.
“Oh, and I am sure you know where they are,” he said, voice light. He took a step toward me, boxing me in toward the wall.
“I have my suspicions.” I leaned back carefully against a tapestry, crossing my arms.
“As your raja, I command you to tell me.”
“Alas, Raja, my loyalty belongs to my sons,” I said as seriously as I could.
He kissed me very quickly, for we were in a hallway. “What if I command you as your husband?”
I pretended to consider. “I still feel bound to keep their secret. Who can they trust, if not their mother?” I said innocently, and he groaned.
“Ah, but you are one of my wisest advisors,” he tried again. “Please advise me.”
I gave a put-upon sigh. “Very well, if I must.” I paused, and Dasharath gestured at me to go on. “They are not here. They let you count and ran off outside. You have been duped, oh great Raja.” I had seen them play such tricks on their caretakers before, and I knew they would leap at the chance to do it to their father too.
He threw his hands up. “I have spent half of an hour searching their rooms and they left?” Dasharath took off down the corridor, toward the training grounds, and I followed. We emerged blinking into the sunlight, to find Bharata, Shatrugna, Lakshmana, and Rama holding wooden swords, seeming for all the world like they were studiously practicing their sparring. But Bharata’s shoulders were shaking slightly, and Lakshmana kept glancing toward the entrance.
“You thought it would be funny to trick your poor father,” Dasharath called out, and they all whirled around. “But I have found you, and you cannot outrun me!”
He began chasing after them, and the boys shrieked and scattered. I thought of what my father would have done had my brothers tried anything similar. He would have been furious, I was sure.
But this was a different time, of different kings. My father did not even sit on the throne of Kekaya anymore—he had abdicated in favor of Yudhajit so that he could receive treatment for an old war injury.
Dasharath caught Lakshmana first, gently tackling him into the dirt. “I have captured your brother,” he shouted to the rest. “Are you going to defend him?”
He picked up one of the wooden swords that had been discarded in the dirt and gestured for Rama, Bharata, and Shatrugna to take up the rest. Bharata charged first, shouting out, but Dasharath easily batted his sword away. I watched as he expertly fended off all three at once, a grin of delight on his face. Behind Dasharath, Lakshmana got to his feet, and I silently cheered him on, watching as he quietly approached his father and then jumped on his back. Dasharath fell to his knees dramatically and the rest of the boys swarmed onto him. He gave a great cry as he tussled with them on the ground.
“Radnyi Kaikeyi, help me!”
I stepped forward, and the boys turned to look at me. “What do you think?” I asked them. “Should I help him?”
“No, Ma—” “Stay there—” Their shouts overlapped.
I looked to Dasharath, lying on the ground. “I am sorry, my raja. It seems there is nothing I can do.”
“I have been betrayed,” he moaned.
I could no longer contain my laughter. It spilled out of me, echoing around the grounds, and soon the rest of my family was laughing too.
I felt peaceful, light in a way I hadn’t been in years. I had a place here, with four perfect, beautiful sons, who could be happy in a way I had never been as a child. I had a family, and they loved me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LONG AFTER I RIPPED apart the entire kingdom, old servants claimed that they saw me behave cruelly toward Rama when he was a child. They said it was proof that I disliked him from the beginning. They had always seen me as neglectful, and indeed I was busy, for by the time my children were ten years old and I had acquired twenty-nine years, the idea of a Women’s Council had spread beyond Ayodhya, brought there by the wives of nobility and diplomats who had witnessed our success and wished to find their own. I wondered how they would fare, for they did not see, of course, the continued—if ineffective—opposition of the more traditional men, like Manav. They were not privy to Dasharath’s occasional meetings pacifying our sages, who performed their public duties to bless the kingdom and praise its ruler but privately warned that the Women’s Council was a step too far. They certainly did not see the retaliation some of the poorer women who came before us faced, including one who was banished from her husband’s home and her father’s after telling us of the beatings she was forced to endure.