“Thank you.” Nandi’s voice was small. He was still hunched next to the bucket.
Sanjana laughed—not quite cruel and not quite kind—and swept out of the room.
To make his tears up to Priya, Nandi combed her hair, applying a little oil to it so that it would be shiny and supple and smell sweet. She dabbed a little on his head in return, and checked his eyes once more. They no longer looked swollen, and Nandi wasn’t sniveling, so Priya dragged him from the room toward the feast. She could smell something roasting and wondered if the servants had made her favorite festive platter, of rice dyed green and yellow and studded with almonds, pistachios, and fat raisins, heaped with dumplings, and a broth both sweet and intensely spiced.
“Wait, Priya. We should put the bucket back,” Nandi said to her urgently. “If Elder Chandni sees it, she’ll know we didn’t do as we were told. Stay in the room and go straight to the feast, she said, and she’ll know we didn’t.”
“She’ll only shout at us,” Priya said with a shrug.
“Or she’ll make us leave the feast early. Or tell us we can’t have any of it.”
It was the kind of punishment an elder would choose. Thinking longingly of that colored rice, Priya sighed. “Fine, let’s go put it back. But quickly, or we’ll be really late.”
It was easier work, carrying the bucket between the two of them, though Nandi whined at Priya for bringing such an overfull bucket, and Priya snapped back in return that she’d just filled it and brought it without thinking, and it was Nandi’s fault for hurting his eyes in the first place…
They heard voices. Stopped.
“The elders,” hissed Nandi, and without bothering to respond, Priya hauled the bucket into a side cloister room and dragged Nandi in after her.
Footsteps drew in closer.
“We should wait until Bhumika returns.” That was Elder Bojal’s voice.
“You think she’ll come back? Truly? The minute she passed through the waters the girl ran straight back to her family’s bosom like a coward,” Elder Saroj replied.
“Her family keep the faith. They’ll bring her back.”
A snort. “Keep the faith? Barely. The Sonalis know the direction of the wind. They’ll never return her, you mark my words, they’ll throw her into a suitable alliance and forget she ever served.”
“Still…”
“They’ve grown so much stronger.” The new voice was an urgent whisper. Elder Sendhil. “Every minute. Every hour. You can’t waver in this now. Soon we will not be enough to manage. The emperor will send armies. Ahiranya will bear the consequences.”
Nandi opened his mouth. Priya clapped a hand over it before he could let out a noise. “Make a sound,” she whispered, “and I’ll pinch your nose shut too.”
He went silent.
“They’re strong in the way we’ve taught them to be strong. Perhaps this is needful.”
“What Emperor Sikander demands is unconscionable. Inhuman.”
“That is why we go with them,” Elder Saroj said calmly. “They are our family. We go together.”
“But surely we must discuss—”
“No.” Elder Chandni’s voice. It was sad but unwavering. “No, I think not. And we’ve discussed this enough. We agreed.”
A silence. Then, Saroj spoke, her voice heavy: “It will be the end of us.”
“A necessary end, I think,” Chandni said softly. Priya bit down on her lip at that. “In this, the general isn’t wrong.”
There was a murmur that Priya could not catch, and then footsteps once more.
Elder Bojal. Elder Sendhil. Elder Saroj. Elder Chandni. All of them, conferring over strength and strangeness. Over the temple children.
Priya had never been commended for her intelligence, but she knew enough to feel a bristle of fear. She met Nandi’s eyes. Uncovered his mouth.
“What do you think they meant?” Nandi whispered.
Priya swallowed. “I don’t know.”
The feast was in full swing in the northern chamber, cushions arrayed in a circle, platters set on the ground including—as Priya had hoped—the dyed rice and dumplings. Once they arrived, Elder Chandni shut the doors behind them. They were the last children in attendance.
There were cloths draped across the walls, in a vibrant array of colors. Priya brushed near one. It smelled sweet, resinous, like ghee or sugarcane, and was faintly… wet.
Elder Chandni touched a hand to Priya’s forehead. Then she leaned down and kissed her cheek.