And yet, I wanted desperately to flee.
“I’ve traveled the world,” Arjun told me. “I can show it to you. I’ve always wanted to; now here’s our chance.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he placed two fingers on my lips.
“Nobody in Shalingar knows what you look like. We could hide. It would just be you and me, together.”
“Sikander and his men know what I look like.”
“We’ll lie low. We’ll get help from people in Ananta. We’ll—”
“How would we even get out of the palace without anyone noticing?”
“There’s a way out through the Temple of Rain. I heard my mother talking about it once. It’s an emergency escape route.”
“But why didn’t I—”
“You’re not supposed to know. For your own protection.”
“And my father?”
Arjun looked back at me, but from the expression on his face, I could tell that he hadn’t yet worked out the answer to that particular question.
“Your father doesn’t want you marrying Sikander. He was right. The oracle was a threat.”
There was a protective note to his voice, but I found myself thinking about the oracle again. I promised I would return, but her words left me shaken; after I departed her cell, I fearfully locked the door, my hands shaking, and ran from the Temple of Rain as fast as I could.
“She told me that we shouldn’t believe Sikander.”
“Who?”
“Thala, the oracle.”
“What else did she say?”
“Something about an attack. Animals running loose, a fight in the west. That we can’t trust Sikander . . . It didn’t all make sense. I think she was hallucinating. And I don’t even believe in that sort of thing, but—she knew other things too.”
I didn’t mention what she said about Arjun loving me, about how he would save my life, but all of a sudden, I wondered if it was possible that he might. That maybe we could actually run away together.
“What could it possibly mean, Arjun?”
“It doesn’t matter, Amrita.” He was holding my face in his hands now, urgency in his voice, desperation in his eyes. “I can’t let you end up like her.”
“I can’t just run away and leave my father. Imagine what Sikander would do in retaliation!”
“Your father would want you to go. He knows you’d be safer with me than with anyone in the world.”
“You’re acting crazy because I snuck you into my chambers, and because everything is changing, and because we’ll be apart for the first time in—”
“You’re right. I am acting crazy. But it’s not for any of those reasons. It’s because I love you, Amrita.”
He had said the words that silenced me.
So the oracle had been right on one count, at least.
“If you love me too,” he continued, “run away with me. Don’t think about the things that scare you. Don’t think about all the things that could go wrong. You and I, we’re a team. We always have been. If anyone can pull this off, it’s us. And I can’t possibly spend the rest of my life—”
But he didn’t need to say anything else—couldn’t, actually, because right then, I reached for him and kissed him, his mouth against mine, his strong hands clasping my waist. He pulled at the pallu of my sari, untwisting it around me, kissing my neck, my shoulder blades, his tongue tracing the exposed skin of my décolletage. I unbuttoned his khalat, pressing my face into his chest, till we were just skin on skin, just mouths and hands, till I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began, our arms and legs entangled, our eyes fixed on each other.
“All right,” I said, pulling away from him. “If we were to run away, how would we even—”
But Arjun already had a plan. “The morning after Sikander’s last dinner here, we can leave before dawn, slip out of the palace. Meet me at the mango grove, and we’ll go out the Temple of Rain. I’ll take care of everything. Just be ready,” he said, an intensity in his voice I had never before heard.
It was real, I realized.
He was right.
We could run away.
Maybe my fate wasn’t sealed yet.
Eight
“RISE AND SHINE!” Mala’s voice cut through the humid air in my bedroom like a scimitar, making me jump.
I had been plagued by nightmares all night: Mala coming in, drawing the curtains as she did every morning to start getting me ready for the day, only to discover Arjun in my bed, scandal registering on her face. Arjun and me running in circles through the Temple of Rain, lost and confused. Sikander tossing me into a box and locking me in there, while I screamed and banged against it with all my might.
“That’s quite a reaction,” Mala said. “I hope you haven’t been up to mischief.” She placed a tray with chai and warm biscuits on my bedside table. I looked around the room. Arjun was gone.
A single magenta hibiscus bloomed from a glass vial. I touched its petals, trying to distract myself from thoughts of him.
“Why would I be up to mischief?” I mumbled, my face reddening as I discreetly glanced around my chambers. Just then, my fingers discovered a loose scrap of parchment under my pillow. I pulled it into my fist, watching Mala as she buzzed around the room like a hummingbird.
“It’s a busy day today. Breakfast with His Majesty’s guests, a tiger hunt, a banquet at the end of the night. Several dress changes, sorry to say.” I watched as Mala began to lay out my clothes for the day, scouring my wardrobe, pulling forth tunics and lenghas and saris and scarves.
Normally, I would have expressed annoyance, but today, I simply watched Mala as she zigzagged around my chambers, grabbing a bangle from a jewelry box, a pair of shoes from my wardrobe.
I thought of how Mala had cared for me since I was a child, waking me up every morning before breakfast. Feeding me slices of guava when I was hungry. Telling me stories. Combing my hair. Laying out my clothes. Making sure that I was on time to things. Scolding me when Arjun and I ran out in the rain without our shoes. Hugging me whenever I made her proud. These were only a few of the things Mala did for me.
“Come now, why are you still sitting? Let’s run you a bath.”
But all of a sudden, my eyes were filled with tears, and I was overwhelmed by the realization that I was leaving home and that Mala wasn’t coming with me.
Neither were Bandaka and Shree, Arjun’s parents. Nor were the hundred or so people who inhabited and operated what was practically a village within the palace compound: guards and cooks, gardeners and medicine men, ladies-in-waiting and council members. Even a zookeeper for the palace zoo that had been built at my great-grandmother’s insistence. These people were my family, and Shalingar Palace was my home. And then there was my father. Whether I was leaving with Sikander or Arjun, I would probably never see any of them ever again.