Sima hiccupped something incomprehensible in response. But she rose to her feet. The maidservants began moving once more. Gauri gave Priya one last look—terrified and furious and too thoughtful by far—then turned away.
“I can keep carrying the lantern, if you want,” Meena said. She stood behind Priya, trembling like a leaf.
Priya curled and uncurled her hands. Her whole body ached.
“No need,” she said. “Thank you for carrying it, Meena. But I’m fine now. Here, let me take it from you.”
Two guards waited at the gates to check each of the women carefully for weapons. They examined Gauri’s stick, as they always did, before handing it back to her with a nod of respect. They were both soldiers who’d traveled with the princess from Parijat, and they looked at the rest of the maidservants coolly, dismissively.
Priya looked at them in return. She missed her little knife.
“She’s waiting,” said one. Then he added, “I heard a girl fell. Sorry for your loss.”
Gauri’s jaw tightened, just slightly.
“We were lucky not to lose her, spirits be thanked,” she said. “I sent one of mine to ask for your help. Did she not request that you come?”
His expression was remote. He shrugged.
“We were told not to move. But all’s well, I suppose, if the girl’s alive.”
“All’s well,” Gauri agreed. But she did not look happy.
Priya couldn’t help but think that if one of their own, like Mithunan, had been guarding the princess—or even the regent’s own personal retinue of cold-eyed men—they would have come to save Sima. Or at least would’ve tried.
The guards opened the gates. The maidservant who had gone ahead was waiting for them, face marked with tears. When she saw Sima her expression brightened—but the brisk tap of approaching footsteps dimmed it once more, and she lowered her head.
The princess’s attendant appeared in the entrance hall.
Lady Pramila was a Parijati noblewoman, tall and severe. She was always clad in a sari embroidered with white jasmine flowers as a mark of her highborn blood, a thick shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. Around her waist she wore a belt, and upon it she wore a set of keys and a knife sheath. For all her noble blood and the fineness of her sari, she was no more than a jailer, and every single servant—Priya included—already hated and feared her.
“There are only three hours before dawn,” Pramila said coolly.
“The rain delayed us, my lady,” Gauri replied. “The monsoon is—that is to say, it is difficult to climb in this weather. We almost lost a girl.”
Pramila shrugged as if to say, That is no concern of mine.
“She lies asleep in the northern chamber, as always,” she said. “Make sure you’re gone by daylight. If your work is not done by then, so be it.”
“My lady.”
“The next time you’re late,” said Pramila, “I will need to inform the regent of my displeasure.”
Gauri bowed her head deferentially. Priya and the others did the same. As soon as Pramila was gone, disappearing into her study, Gauri turned to them.
“We’ll start in the kitchens,” she said. “Quickly, now. And if you tarry, I promise to beat each and every one of you blue.”
Priya kindled the kitchen fire, fanning it into steady flames. She chopped onions and peeled vegetables, setting them aside to be cooked. That finished, she moved to one of the temple corridors commonly used by the guards and began to scrub the floor clean of their muddy footprints.
“Priya.” Priya raised her head, startled. Sima was looking down at her, arms crossed in front of her. “I—I wanted to say thank you.”
“You don’t need to.”
Sima nodded. Her face was drawn. There was a question in the tilt of her head, in the curve of her mouth.
“I’ve never seen you like that before,” Sima said.
“Like what?”
“Brave. I suppose.”
“Hey now,” Priya said, “I’m very brave. Who was the one who caught the lizard that got into our dormitory when all the other girls were screaming? Me.”
“What you said,” Sima replied. “When you were—when you saved me. I…” She hesitated. “Did you…？”
Priya waited. She wondered what Sima would ask. Were you a pilgrim once? That would be fine. Priya could lie convincingly, if Sima asked her that. But if she asked, Were you a temple child? How could Priya lie, then, when even being on the Hirana made her past feel so close, her skin too tight to hold it in?