There was a long moment of silence, as Malini drew on her reserves of strength and shifted, rising to her elbows. She stared at Priya through her curtain of hair, wishing she could read her better, wishing that her own mind were less swaddled by poison.
“Her daughter was my friend,” said Malini. “My lady-in-waiting. She rose to the pyre—both my ladies did so—and I refused. Pramila can’t forgive that. Part of her sincerely believes it was an honor for her daughter. An ascent to immortality. And part of her knows the truth: that the pyre was my punishment. That her daughter died, burning and in agony, because of me. And I continue living despite all my errors, and her daughter does not. Neither of those are things she can forgive.”
Priya swallowed visibly, shifting to mirror Malini’s position. “Why did he wish to remove you?” Priya asked. “Your brother.”
There were many things Malini could have said. I betrayed him. I tried to remove him from his throne. I saw him too clearly, and he hated me for it. But those were not truths that would help her now. What truth would?
Malini brushed her hair back and met Priya’s eyes.
“Because I am not pure.”
Priya’s eyes widened, just slightly.
Ask me, Malini thought, not looking away from Priya’s gaze, what makes me impure. If you’re brave enough, ask me.
But Priya did not.
“I am sorry, my lady,” she said instead.
“Pramila wants me to die on the pyre,” Malini said in return. “Sometimes she will sit by my sickbed and tell me how blissful immortality will be. And—sometimes—she will ask me to imagine how it would feel to burn. And I did. And I do, Priya. I do, and I do, and I do.”
When Priya startled, beginning to reach out as Malini’s voice wavered, Malini warded her away with a hand. “No,” she went on. “I’m—I don’t want to be comforted.” Suddenly she was shaking, grief and anger rushing through her, and she did not want to be touched. That would be too much. Too much, when her skin already felt overfull with feeling. A shallow breath. Her hands lowered. “Pramila thinks I’ll choose it. The pyre. The burning. But perhaps it will not come to that. If I grow any weaker, it will not.”
“No,” said Priya. “I suppose not.”
“So now you know,” said Malini. “I would ask you to forgive me for telling you my hurts, but I regret nothing I’ve done. I want you to know that, Priya.”
There. A real truth, unvarnished and laid bare.
Malini had peeled her heart open and poured her heart’s blood out before Priya, given her everything ugly and tender, metal and sweet about her past. And Priya…
Priya did not touch her, but she kept her hand near Malini’s own. She kept her eyes on Malini. Steady and sure.
“I’ve told you many a time, my lady,” said Priya. “I’m only a maidservant. You don’t need to even think of apologizing to me.”
“But I do think of it, Priya,” said Malini. “That’s all.”
Pramila came to visit her during the day. Malini only knew it because she woke warm from the heat of the midday sun, and because Priya’s voice had startled her out of her slumber, lifting her from the deep pool of drugged sleep to the shallows of almost wakefulness, where the room tipped lazily around her but she could still think. Still hear, as Pramila settled herself on the edge of the charpoy with a creak of wood.
“She’s resting, my lady,” Priya was saying. Malini kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady. “I can try to wake her if you wish, but she sleeps soundly.”
Pramila made a noise of acknowledgment. Cleared her throat.
“Your face,” Pramila said. “Does it pain you?”
There was a pause.
“No, my lady,” Priya replied.
“I should not have hit you,” Pramila said stiffly. “I have never beaten any of my maids before. It is beneath me. But here, in this place…” She drummed her fingers upon something solid. The Book of Mothers, perhaps. “The princess makes me forget myself.”
Malini would not open her eyes. She would not. It was enough to hear their voices.
“You think you love her a little, perhaps,” Pramila continued. “She is a dazzling mistress, for one as lowly and uncouth as you. But she uses everyone, girl. Even me. Why do you think I keep the guards away from her? It’s more than piety alone. They’d be taken in by her pretty face and sweet words. She’s a manipulative child. No matter what she says, remember you’re no more than dirt beneath her feet. Remember that the next time she asks you for a small favor.” Her voice lowered. “Remember that, the next time she provokes my ire.”