The Duke of Shadows (12 page)

"My father is Amanpur
ke
ruler," Kavita put in.

"But I cannot take credit for her unique patois."

Kavita laughed. "You make fun of me,
bhaiyya!
It is lucky my family loves you, or I would tell Yuvraj you are mean to me!"

"The crown prince," Emma murmured. She looked dazed. Kavita did tend to have that effect.

"Yes, yes, my husband. Oh, but it is too bad Yuvraj has not returned from
shikaar!
If he does not come back this week I will be very unhappy.
Aur agar vo aapki mahila se na mile to bahut nakhush honge."

Emma took one large step toward him. "What does that mean?"

Her sharp tone caught his attention. Christ—she was not dazed, but … afraid? More so, even, than before Kavita had entered the room. What was this? "It means he will be unhappy if he doesn't get to meet you," he said slowly. "Kavita, perhaps you might be kind enough to have someone arrange for food? I believe the dishes are grown cold."

"Oh—
haan!
But while I am gone, you must put on the clothes I have brought. They are for tonight, you know. Tonight there is dancing!" Kavita clapped. "A celebration in honor of your arrival!"

"Thank you," Emma said. "I will try them."

"But—
bhaiyya
, if the servants are to come, I must ask you to leave." To Emma she said, "I am very sorry, I hope you will not mind that we must keep Julian separate? I know your English ways are not so … strict. But
nahin
to the servants will talk, they would say there is no honor in our court. Because Julian is my brother, it is very important for him to show
tameez,
to show, how do you say—"

"Izzat,"
Emma said softly, surprising the hell out of him. "Yes, I have heard of the idea."

Kavita beamed at her. "Yes, very good. Now come,
bhaiyya."

"Did they?" It did not surprise him that Kavita had sought them out. She would have few opportunities to practice her English, what with the strict purdah in the palace. Only because he was her
rakhi
brother, and had known her since she was little, did the Yuvraj countenance their connection.

"Yes. They said she has been making threats against them."

The idea was so absurd that it startled a laugh from him. He regretted it immediately; she pulled out of his grip and her eyes flashed an accusation. He retrieved her hand, ignoring her muttered protest. "It must have been a misunderstanding. Emma, you heard her yourself; her grasp of the language is not always … precise."

"But it is good enough," she said. "And they spoke as if it had happened more than once, not just one slip of the tongue. As if she had been tormenting them."

"Then they are lying," he said flatly.

"How can you know that? You have not spoken to them!"

"I have known that girl since she was a child. She is whimsical and occasionally thoughtless, but she is not cruel." He did not like the way she was staring at him. He had thought they were past this. "Emma, do you think I would take risks with your life? After last night, can you doubt it? I would do anything to keep you safe. But I can tell you, on my life, that Kavita is sincere when she calls you her
behin—
her sister."

"And her husband?"

"What of her husband?"

"They said—" She glanced to the door. "They said her husband is no friend to the British," she finished rapidly.

"True enough. But he is well under his father's thumb." When she looked unconvinced, he sighed. "Very well then. I will speak with the Maharajah, I will suggest that he detain his son in Kashmir until the unrest has died down. The roads are not safe, after all. Especially for the scion of a court known to favor the British."

Unease drew a line between her brows. "You know better than I," she said. "But if you think he would listen…"

"What's more important, I think it would give you peace of mind." He leaned down to press a kiss on her brow.

"Bhaiyya!"
Kavita stomped back inside. "I know the meaning of 'moment,' and this is too much!"

Emma's hand dropped away. "Go," she said.

"Emma—"

"Go." Her eyes met his. "I trust you, Julian. I do."

"Why looking so sad,
behin?
Are you not excited for the dancing?"

He arched a brow at Emma. She gave him a smile, but it was not wide enough for his taste. "I will speak with the Maharajah during the
durbar,
and then I will come to you."

Kavita made a noise of protest. His look silenced her. So, there really was a first time for everything.

Emma ripped her eyes away from the walls of the tunnel, which were decorated with highly detailed paintings, and embedded with mirrors that amplified the light from the torches set on either side. They were beautiful. They were also windowless. Anything could happen in here.

Kavita is sincere when she calls you her sister.

"The entire court will be present. So we will be in
purdah."
At Emma's expression, Kavita laughed. "It's not bad, I promise you.
Matlab yeh hai ki
we will sit behind one of the
jallis
on the edge of the courtyard. Usually I sit with Maharani-ji, and all the women push each other to see better, and it is most dreadful. But Maharajah-ji has made a section just for us, so we will have the best view." She led Emma up a stairwell to their left, and they emerged into the cool of the evening, taking seats before a tall, intricately carved screen that looked out onto an immense marble courtyard.

Over a hundred men were seated there on large silk cushions, their brightly colored turbans making them appear like a flock of bobbing parrots. At the far side of the courtyard, Emma could just make out through squinting eyes the Maharajah and Julian, seated on chairs above the rest of the crowd. The entire group flanked a rectangular pool, in the middle of which rose a large sandstone dais. As she watched, four men in white pajamas scurried forward, two of them jumping into the pool and submerging themselves up to the chin. Their companions passed them a thin stone plank, which they settled against the dais before climbing out of the water.

"The nautch girls, the dancers, will perform in the middle of the pond," Kavita said. "The musicians are across from us, in that balcony. Below are the Maharani-ji and her court, though you cannot see them."

"Rajkumari-ji?"

They both turned. A slender woman in a diaphanous silver sari held forth a tray with two jewel-encrusted goblets. Kavita handed one to Emma, then sat back and waited as the woman sipped from the other.

She caught Emma's glance as she then took the goblet. "She tastes it for poison." Her eyes fell to Emma's cup, and she smiled. "Would you like her to try yours too?"

"Do you think it … necessary?"

Kavita's smile deepened. "It is always possible that only one cup would be poisoned. But why? Your enemies would not be sure that you would choose the right cup." She laughed suddenly.
"Haay Ram,
your face! Do not worry,
behin.
Here, I will taste your drink myself." She reached for the goblet, but the servant gasped and snatched it away.

Kavita scowled and said something sharp to the maid, who bowed lower this time. After a tentative sip, the woman returned the glass to Emma and moved off. "Suchitra has clumsy manners," Kavita said to Emma. "Her heart is good, though. Now try your drink before it melts. It is sherbet soaked in liqueur—very naughty, and very tasty."

Emma took a sip, wincing at the strength of the alcohol. But it left a pleasant aftertaste in her mouth, and was deliciously cold. She tried it again, and decided she liked it.

"Oh!" Kavita leaned forward, watching eagerly as the dancers paced gracefully into the courtyard.
"Bahut sundar hain, na?
Very beautiful!"

The women were wearing bells on their feet, and in the sudden silence, their very steps seemed a sort of dance, the jingling melodious and harmonized. They were lovely in their bright silks, their shoulders thrown back and their chins held high, the kohl around their eyes making them appear like princesses from an exotic fairy tale. She saw Julian lean over to whisper in the Maharajah's ear, and wondered for a moment whether she did not look very pallid and unattractive by comparison.

A sound cut across the stillness: high and sweet, similar to that of a violin. And then, to a mighty flourish of drums, the nautch girls lifted their hands over their heads, spinning across the thin plank to the dais with such speed that Emma was sure one of them would topple into the water. As they belled out in a circle in the center of the pond, a man rushed up to remove the plank, pulling it out of sight.

"They remove the plank so the nautch girls cannot reach the Maharajah," Kavita whispered. "Two generations ago, a maharajah was knifed in this very
aangan
by a traitorous dancer, so we take no chances."

Emma nodded distractedly. The women moved like water, their arms seeming boneless as they bent and twisted in fluid, curving arcs. One of them moved to the front of the stage, stretching out her hands in supplication as she began to sing.

"She sings of a love that was not meant to be," Kavita translated. "Of her beloved, whom she cannot even look at for fear of the Emperor's wrath. Her heart pounds, and sleep will not come to her—" Kavita turned to look at her. "Are you in love with
bhaiyya?"

Kavita smiled. "I am forward? But I feel very comfortable with you,
behin.
Perhaps we knew each other in a past life. Surely you must have been Hindustani, for how else could you have won Julian? He is not so stupid to give his heart to one of these cold, goatlike Englishwomen. Like the two Maharajah-ji saved. You met them, no? So they told me. Such arrogance, such disrespect!
Ulloos.
Sometimes I think these Englishwomen do not deserve our Maharajah-ji's kindness."

A dreadful girl comes to
taunt us.
Emma looked out. The distance across the courtyard to Julian was very great, and the stone screen was as effective as steel bars. Behind her, one of the guards shifted, his sword scraping along the wall.

"My question makes you unhappy," Kavita murmured. "But I would not sneer at the idea of being Julian's woman. Many women have tried to make him their own. He is rich and handsome and
bahut dilwaale,
very courageous. He has stalked a man-eating tiger with nothing but his shadow and his blade, and Maharajah-ji thinks of him as a son. All men respect him, even if his blood is soiled by his English father."

"I do not sneer," Emma said softly.

"Then you are afraid. I was afraid too, with the Yuvraj. But the fear will pass. Here, have some more to drink. We shall have a toast, as you English put it." She placed Emma's hand on the abandoned goblet, then raised hand and goblet both to tip against her own. "To overcoming our fear. And—to Hindustan."

"To India," Emma said quietly, and took a sip. Over the rim, she met Kavita's eyes.

"Whomsoever's it may be," the princess murmured, and then looked back to the dancers.

"We had a sherbet," Emma said carefully. She had never been so glad to see him. She almost said so, and pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself.

"It was that honey liqueur Yuvraj likes. And now Twill fall asleep from it." Kavita yawned. "Surely Maharaniji will forgive me if I retire without bidding her good night."

"I'm sure she will." Julian's amusement was evident. "Would you like me to walk you to the zenana?"

"Haay Ram!
The
tamasha
that would cause! No, the guards will take me." Gathering up the folds of her skirts, Kavita staggered off, weaving dangerously around the corner and out of sight.

Julian laughed. "If only her father could see her now."

"Julian," Emma began, then grabbed his upper arm as she swayed again.

"Careful," he murmured. His hand came around to the small of her back, causing his bicep to bunch beneath her fingers. And suddenly the words in her mouth fell away. He had been inside her. This body had been pressed flat against hers, part of him
inside her.