“
You will leave as soon as our meeting concludes. Right under his nose. And when you return, you will praise him.”
Gauri balked. “Praise him? He did nothing!”
“You would do well to learn how to play the games of court,” I said. “Sometimes an illusion is just as good as the actual thing. The difference lies in the telling. Make this one concession. Find out what happens next. If you bring back these soldiers and word gets out that it was your idea and your escape, he may punish them on your behalf.”
Gauri considered me. “What are you?”
“A maybe-false queen!” butted in Kamala.
It must have come out as another deranged horse whinny because Gauri nearly jumped.
“I told you,” I said, not meeting her gaze. “I’m a person who lived here once upon a time.”
“You know far too much about the political schemes of Bharata.”
“My father was a diplomat.”
“No, he wasn’t! No, he wasn’t!” sang Kamala. “Lies are fun. Lies are nice. They taste like rice soaked in milk and sliced and diced with cardamom and--”
“Is your horse ill?” asked Gauri.
“No, not at all,” I said and smacked Kamala on her flank. “She’s eager.”
“For blood,” said Kamala.
”
”