Page 41 of The Burning Mountain
Namata Devi folded the bloodstained cloth absently, lining the edges precisely. “You should know, Princess, people inherently shy away from dissent. One tyrant king wouldn’t matter from a kind one if they could lead their daily lives in relative peace. People should want for a change. Should strive for one. That is the mark of a true resistance—the kind that emerges from embers of injustice, from the crush of countless slights and a desire to make life better for everyone.Notfrom prurient self-interest.”
“What’s the alternathive, though?” asked Chandra, fascinated despite the exhaustion dragging at her. “You couldh guide them? Your supporth’d be in-in-invaluable,” she said, struggling to get the word out from her ruined mouth.
“I can’t.” Namata Devi’s denial was short and decisive. Then relenting, she explained further. “It’s complicated, Princess. Naga Bhairava promised me that he would spare my sister’s and Aditya’s lives, as long as they kept a low profile. It was to be an agreement…in exchange for my hand in marriage to one of his sons. Not that I expected them to keep their word…this recent capture of Aditya proves that. But I’d hoped they would wait until my marriage to show their true intentions.”
Her gaze was distant. “I have my own plans. I dare not show my hand early or else everything I’ve been carefully putting into motion will fall apart. But when the time comes, when Aditya is ready, when the heir apparent proves himself worthy of thepanch-pashuthrone, like his father before him, I shall doeverything to see that it happens. Even if I have to break every vow I make from now on. Even if I have to sacrifice my future for it, I shall fulfill the purpose I was born and bred for.”
Her words rang with sincerity and Chandra knew she would never forget them. “Is thath why you agreed to this marriage?” asked Chandra. “Why you thake theMoringaleaf?”
Namata Devi inclined her head in assent, tucking the now folded cloth out of sight into her saree. “Yes, I agreed to this sham of marriage. Of my free will, such as it is,” she said with more than a touch of bitterness.
Chandra wiped at her chin once more but didn’t give voice to the question that was bubbling at her lips. She bent her head, realizing it might be too personal and perhaps cruel to ask.
Namata Devi caught her expression and gave a slight smile. “It’s okay. I can guess what you’re thinking.”
“Guess?”
“Yes. You can be pretty transparent with your thoughts. You were wondering if there was any truth to the rumors that say I am resentful of my sister, ever since Harideva chose her over me.”
Namata Devi got up and snuck a peek at the door before Chandra could think of a proper response to that accurate statement.
“We need to get you ready. Can you stand?” she asked, coming back and wrapping an arm at Chandra’s waist and helping her stand.
Chandra took some tentative steps but found herself exhausted when she reached the door. She slumped against the wall, panting. How was she going to make it if she was this weak?
Namata Devi tore a fresh piece of cloth from her saree and handed it to Chandra. “You need to have this pressed against the wound to slow the bleeding. It wouldn’t do for the guards to follow your bloodstains. After you get to Samyukta’s, have noone but Dhatri sew your wound. She is the best seamstress in the kingdom.”
Chandra nodded and swallowed a moan when the cloth touched the ragged edges of her flesh.
Namata Devi stood with her ear to the door. “Not long now, I hope,” she muttered.
Chandra closed her eyes and counted as she breathed through the burn of her injuries.
She wondered how grotesque she looked. Probably would carry a scar for the rest of her life. Only this one would be visible, exposed. Unlike the ones on her back, she couldn’t pretend this had never happened. Couldn’t pretend that her thoughtlessness, once again, had bitter consequences.
“I don’t care, you know.”
Chandra turned her head, her hand with the cloth still pressed to her cheek. Namata Devi’s attention was on her, although she didn’t move from her spot by the door. The lit torch in its bracket behind her cast her face in slashes of light and shadow.
“People always seem to have an opinion on how I must be feeling. But nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Did you ever regreth your decision?” asked Chandra.
“Never.” Her eyes shone with conviction. “I don’t begrudge them their happiness.” She paused and then spoke in a low voice. “But I’m selfish enough to wish their happiness wasn’t based on my sacrifice.”
Chandra felt an unexpected stirring of pity. Namata Devi’s decision had put her in an unenviable position of not being good enough, inviting the censure of others over her presumed shortcomings.
As someone who had lived on the receiving end of society’s false compassion and condemnation, Chandra understood how much that decision must have cost her.
Namata Devi took a deep breath, as if fortifying herself, her chin high. “Of course, I would’ve made a far better queen than my sister.”
Chandra was working out the meaning behind the statement, when the regent laughed softly.
“Perhaps you don’t understand, Princess. We are royalty. When we marry, we don’t just become the wife of a man but also a queen of a nation, with all the attendant roses and thorns such a position engenders. A queen will be called on to make decisions that are impossible to endure for a wife.” She fell silent. “Of course, Harideva preferred a wife more. That was his choice.”
Namata Devi’s gaze was distant once again. “As for me. The one I love…well…I lost her a long time ago. Love can be incredibly fulfilling, but when it isn’t, it can be harder to swallow than the most acerbic medicine.”
Chandra wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Namata Devi’s words left her feeling confused and a little sad.
