“No, I found it annoying when my two siblings would run off into the hills every evening and leave us behind.”
“You knew?”
“They figured it out,” Yudhajit said. “We were not as stealthy as we hoped.”
“Also, we were insufferable, and we followed you more than once.”
“That I believe,” I said with a grin. “I’m just ashamed we did not notice you.”
“You were rather preoccupied,” came another voice. My brother Mohan stood in the doorway at the opposite end of the room, easily identifiable by the scar on his cheek. He had once convinced Shantanu to shoot an arrow at a mango balanced on his head, in the manner of the heroes of myth. Shantanu had missed and cut Mohan’s cheek open instead. Yudhajit and I had yelled ourselves hoarse after that particular incident.
I beckoned him forward and he too lifted me off the ground in an embrace. “I can’t imagine what you mean,” I said.
Mohan said, “None of us were surprised when just a few moons after you left, we heard wild tales of you on the battlefield. Driving chariots, shooting arrows. A true warrior queen.” There was an undercurrent of pride in his teasing.
“You are trained in archery?” Rama asked, eyes lighting up, and I remembered that the boys were watching this entire conversation.
“Yudhajit taught me a few things. That is all.”
“More than a few things. And she’s excellent,” Yudhajit said, ruining my attempt at deflection. “But far better at spear-throwing.”
“Come show us!” Rama begged. “Can you? Please?” He seemed so like an eleven-year-old boy that it was nearly impossible to think of what he had become at the banks of the river. I studied his excited face, trying to reconcile the heart-stopping fear with the love that filled me at his enthusiasm. I wrapped an arm around him in a quick hug, feeling a sense of relief.
“Well, Kaikeyi?” Yudhajit asked. “Have you kept up with it?”
I had, though with decreasing frequency over the last few years.
“Are you not raja?” I teased. “Have you nowhere more important to be?”
“Nothing more important than diplomacy on behalf of the kingdom,” Yudhajit answered, winking at me.
We all followed Yudhajit down to the training yard. It was strange to walk there without any questioning looks—and stranger still to have Yudhajit freely accompanying me. I had spent many hours staring longingly down at my brothers from an upstairs window.
In my mind, the training fields of Kekaya had always been a large, shadowy place, but now in the open I realized they were smaller than the grounds in Ayodhya’s palace, although they were far better equipped. Kosala, with its strangely polite rules about war, liked to limit its weaponry to swords and spears and arrows.
“Well, what do you think?” Yudhajit asked.
Rama and Bharata looked around in delight, gravitating immediately to the stands of heavy iron clubs. Bharata reached to take a flail off the rack and nearly dropped it on his foot.
“Careful!” I called out, walking briskly toward them. As I approached, Rama picked the flail up, moved a few paces from Bharata, and gave it a measured, perfect swing with an ease uncommon even in a fully grown man.
“Strong boy,” Yudhajit said, catching up with me.
“Yes, he is,” I said softly.
Yudhajit looked down at me, sensing my distress, so I forced a smile onto my face and tried to dispel his concerns with a tug in the Binding Plane. The radiant blue cable shifted slightly, and his attention glanced off my discomfort. By then, such little manipulations came as naturally to me as breathing. It would have taken more effort not to use my magic. “We are very proud. He will be a great warrior.”
Yudhajit studied me for another moment, then turned toward Bharata and Rama. “Boys, have you ever seen your mother throw a spear? She is absolutely deadly.”
Bharata ran up to me and threw his arms around me in a rare display of affection. “Could you, Ma?” His manipulation was so obvious, and yet I could not resist. I nodded to my brother, and he waved a hand at an attendant at the other end of the yard.
A straw target was set two hundred paces away. It was far, but within distance for me, even with my skills rusty from lack of use.
Yudhajit pointed me toward the array of spears. “Practice or—” He broke off as I reached for one that called out to me, long and slim with a wickedly sharp point. I weighed it carefully, my palms recognizing the feel of the polished shaft like an old friend.