“Sima,” Priya greeted her. She picked up the spools of ribbon, the knife, and the remains of the shard of sacred wood, and tidied them away. “Sima, this is Rukh.”
“Hello, ma’am,” he said guardedly.
“Nice to meet you, Rukh,” said Sima. “You should head to the kitchen before you miss dinner.”
“Go on,” Priya agreed, as Rukh looked over at her for reassurance. “You can find your way to your own dormitory, can’t you? The other boys should guide you from there.”
He nodded. With a final mumbled thanks and the faintest smile in Priya’s direction, he jumped from the veranda and ran off.
As soon as he was gone, Sima grabbed Priya by the arm and hauled her across the veranda, back toward the mahal proper. Her hand on Priya was strong, rain damp and faintly scented with soap from hours laundering clothes.
“So you did bring a stray home,” Sima said to her. “I should have known it was true.”
“Who told you?”
“Oh, one of the guards who let you in. I don’t know,” Sima said dismissively. “You’re lucky Billu covered for you. You came back so late.”
“If I’d known the markets were going to be shut, I wouldn’t have bothered going out at all. I went to—help,” Priya said. “You know what I do. But I couldn’t do much. And then I found him. He was alone, Sima.”
Priya saw a familiar mix of exasperation and affection flicker across Sima’s face before her friend rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Speaking of market closures—you really do need to come with me.” Sima let go of Priya’s arm, twining her arm with Priya’s with a conspiratorial air instead. “And we’re going to need to rush.”
“Why?”
“The princess is almost here,” she said, as if Priya were a simpleton. “We’re going to watch.” She tugged Priya forward. “Come on. I had to bribe one of the guards with a whole flask of wine to get a good spot.”
“I’m hungry,” Priya protested.
“You can eat later,” Sima said.
They went to a storeroom, high in the mahal, where a narrow barred window overlooked the marbled entrance courtyard. The window was only large enough for one of them to peer out of at a time. Priya looked first and saw the regent and his advisors, attendants with parasols standing beside them to keep at bay the ever-present threat of rain. Soldiers in Parijatdvipan white and gold were arrayed in a great crescent around them.
She drew back, letting Sima take her place.
“You should have kept some wine for us,” Priya muttered, crouching on the floor.
Sima shook her head. “I’m not going to have time for drinking. I’ve got a new job. While you were off gallivanting around the city, Gauri was roping up girls to do chores in the princess’s new dwelling. Sweeping up, cooking, the usual.” Sima shot Priya a sidelong glance. “You should find her and volunteer too. We could finally work together again.”
They hadn’t shared chores since their first year in the mahal, when they were both still girls. Sima had left her village and her family and come to the mahal by choice, but she’d been overwhelmed by the size and bustle of the city. Priya had been like Rukh, of course: one of the pity cases taken in by the regent’s wife, just another orphan abandoned, feral and angry and entirely alone. They’d clung to each other out of necessity at first. But they had soon built a friendship on the back of a shared affection for pretty girls, liquor, and nights spent gossiping in their dormitory, laughing with each other until one of the maidservants trying to sleep threw a shoe to shut them up.
“Is the coin good?” Priya asked.
“The coin is very good.”
“I would have thought she’d have more volunteers than she could manage, then.”
“Ah, no.” Sima squinted through the bars. “Come over here. I can see horses.”
Priya got up with a groan. When Sima didn’t move, she nudged in close to her, pressing their faces together so they could both look.
The horses were beautiful, pure white and bridled in brilliant gold, drawing a chariot of silver and ivory bone. The inhabitants were hidden, shrouded above by a dark cloth canopy, surrounded by a wall of curtains. There were riders on either side of the chariot, but there was, indeed, no full retinue. Just a clutch of soldiers, bristling with weapons, and a nobleman who lowered himself from his horse and bowed perfunctorily to the regent.
“The princess,” Sima said against her ear, as the curtain of the chariot parted and an older noblewoman alighted, “is being imprisoned in the Hirana.”