I pulled away to take a long look at him as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “When did you get so wise?” A few strands of gray streaked his hair, a mirror image of mine. The beginnings of lines had formed in his features. I had left him at seventeen and returned at twenty-nine. Of course he had aged.
“When did you become saciva?” he countered. Pride shone on his face. “There will be a celebration in your honor tonight.”
I grinned at him. “In my honor only? What about your nephews?”
He turned toward them as if only just remembering I had come with a retinue and my sons. “Yes, of course.”
“Bharata, Rama!” I called out. My sons dismounted eagerly and came to stand beside me. “Brother, this is Prince Bharata, and this is Prince Rama.”
Bharata stepped forward and bent to touch Yudhajit’s feet, but Yudhajit caught him around the middle and embraced him instead. He did the same to Rama.
“Welcome to Kekaya, my nephews.”
My grin split my wind-chapped lips, but I did not care.
Our whole party streamed inside. The servants took our belongings while Yudhajit gave the boys a tour of the palace, rambling on as he led us from one room to the next, clearly trying to impress his nephews. When his enthusiasm became embarrassing, I sent him a slight suggestion of calm through the Binding Plane, and the torrent of his words slowed.
Still, I had to admit, Yudhajit’s staff had done an excellent job—every room hinted at more wealth around the edges, moving away from the forbidding austerity of my father’s time. The harsh stone chambers of my childhood had a softer cast, maybe because of the patterned tapestries in the hallways and the soft fabrics on the floors and furniture. While such decorations were commonplace in Ayodhya, I never recalled seeing them in Kekaya. Or perhaps the years had cast my childhood in the strange light of hindsight.
I lingered in the familiar maze of corridors. Did the palace feel smaller because I had grown accustomed to larger or because I myself had grown?
As I stood there, several paces behind the rest of the group, strong arms wrapped around me and lifted me up into the air.
I screamed, kicking at my attacker as my guards spun around, drawing their swords. Yudhajit ran toward me.
My attacker dropped me with a strangled yelp as my elbow landed in his belly. Yudhajit stopped and… doubled over in laughter?
I turned, holding up a hand to stop my guards.
“Missed me?” my attacker asked, his mouth twisting up in a familiar smile.
“Ashvin,” I said, gaping up at him. Then, “Do that again and I will ensure you cannot have children.”
Ashvin shrugged, lifting one enormous shoulder. “Good thing I have plenty of brothers to carry on the family line.”
We embraced, my arms barely wrapping around him. The slight, sickly boy who had taken up with the healers had grown into a giant.
“It is good to see you again, didi.”
“Didi?” Bharata echoed, eyes widening at the sight of Ashvin’s bulk.
“It means ‘older sister,’” explained Yudhajit. “It’s common only to the western dialects.”
“An honorific,” Rama said, confident even though he had never heard the word before.
“Yes.” Ashvin smiled down at me. He wore a crisp white dhoti and a deep-orange cloth wrapped around his torso—the raiment of a healer or a sage. “And Kaikeyi is most deserving.”
“Ashvin is Court Healer,” Yudhajit informed me. “He has you to thank for that, didi.”
“I had very little to do with it,” I said, hiding my pride. “And by the way, I am your didi too, so you should not be so mocking.”
“That does not count,” Yudhajit countered immediately. It was the oldest argument between us.
“Were you the firstborn?” Bharata asked, eyes wide.
Yudhajit put an arm around me, and I pretended to shrug it off. “Kaikeyi is supposedly firstborn.”
“Supposedly?” I repeated. “What does that mean? I was born several minutes before you.”
“Oh, you’re twins,” Bharata observed, surprised. “Like Shatrugna and Lakshmana. Why did you never tell us?”
“Does it matter?” I asked. “It would be very boring for you to know every detail of my life.”
“Boring? No, annoying,” Ashvin said, his voice a deep rumble.
“Annoying? I see. And did you find it annoying when we worked together to get you apprenticed to the healers?” Within these walls, everything transformed, and we were children again, bickering back and forth.