“Save your husband, you mean,” Priya said. She regretted the words even as she spoke them; but it was too late, there was no undoing them. And it was not exactly untrue, was it? It was General Vikram who had the most to lose from the emperor’s ire. People like Priya had already lost everything.
“I see. And what do you think will happen to this household if he dies, exactly? No, don’t answer me,” Bhumika said, when Priya’s mouth parted. “Judge me all you like, Pri, I don’t care what you think of me, or anyone else. Call me a whore and a traitor if you wish, I simply don’t care. All I want is to ensure an outcome where as many of us as possible survive. So, will you watch over the princess or not?”
“If the regent has ordered it…”
“Don’t think of the regent. I’m asking you. Will you do it?”
Priya looked into Bhumika’s eyes. “You would trust me?” Priya asked.
“It seems so,” said Bhumika mildly.
But still, Bhumika looked at Priya with wary, guarded eyes, the way she always looked at Priya—as if Priya were about to run off a cliff, or push someone off one; as if Priya were unpredictable.
Priya thought of the princess’s dark eyes, bloodshot with weeping. She thought of the princess watching her after Meena fell to her death. Thought of the lack of terror in that blank face. The smooth, steady gaze.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
Bhumika exhaled. “Good.” She drank her own water in one swift gulp. Lowered the glass. “Go and bathe. Rest. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Priya turned. Hesitated. “Bhumika…”
“What?”
“Meena. The assassin.” Voice halting. “She told me she’d drunk the deathless waters from a vial. And that the power was killing her. She told me a temple child gave her the waters. I know now, we’re not alone after all. We’re not the last.”
Silence.
“Bhumika,” Priya prompted.
“Leave me alone,” Bhumika said tiredly. “I’ve got enough to worry about already.”
“You can’t mean that.”
Bhumika shook her head. “Can’t I? If there’s a temple child out there cruel enough to peddle deathless water—bottled, what folly—and send children to die on their behalf, then we do not need to find them. They’re dangerous. And we have enough danger to contend with, Priya.”
“I suppose we do,” Priya said.
“You suppose correctly. Now go and clean yourself up. You smell awful.”
Priya turned to go. Bhumika’s voice stopped her.
“The boy you brought, Priya.”
Priya turned back, alarmed. “He’s fine? He’s doing fine, isn’t he?”
“I’ve heard nothing, so I must assume he is,” said Bhumika. “But please don’t bring any more strays home. I know I have a benevolent reputation, but I can only get away with so much before I’ll have to explain myself to my husband.”
Priya said nothing. What was there to say?
“I know how you help rot sufferers in the city,” Bhumika went on. “You could have asked me for aid with them, you know.”
Bhumika had just pointed out exactly why Priya had not asked. But Priya didn’t mention the regent. Instead she said, “I shouldn’t have had to ask.”
“I can’t do everything,” Bhumika said. “Unfortunately.”
Priya registered just how exhausted Bhumika looked then, and felt a pang at the thought of all the tasks Bhumika was struggling with. But before she could say a word, Bhumika was speaking once more.
“I’ll arrange a supply of sacred wood for those that I can. In the city—and within the mahal.”
“And for Rukh? He’ll need more than the rest. More often.”
A pause. “He’s dying, Priya. It would be a waste to give him additional help.”
Priya swallowed. “I brought him here,” she said. “And now I won’t be here to help him.”
“Your soft heart,” Bhumika said. And Priya did not know if it was an insult or not. She only knew that Bhumika turned her head away, to the roses upon the windows that were rustling in the breeze, and said, “Just go. I’ll do what I can. That’s all I promise you.”
Priya left Bhumika and walked toward the servants’ chambers. Bhumika had not sent a guard to escort her, and Priya was glad of that. She needed time alone.
It was darkening to evening, but Priya did not suppose she would be needed or wanted at the Hirana tonight. In the fading light, she could see that the hem of her sari was stained with water and mud, and blood, too. The realization made her wince. It would be no end of trouble to remove it.