A Crown of Wishes

by Roshani Chokshi

  A wish. After all this, she didn’t need it.

  “I think sometimes the truest wish of all is not needing to make one,” she said. “Besides, I think there’s someone at home who needs it more than I do.”

  “What do you plan on doing, Gauri?” he asked, grinning. “Going to stroll through the gates of Bharata with nothing but a dagger?”

  She reached into a small bag and pulled out a dagger he’d never seen. It was unnaturally blue, with a shimmering finish as if it were made of water.

  “A gift from Lady Kauveri,” she said. Gauri threw it to the ground, where it blossomed into a watery trident. “I think it’s capable of making quite the entrance.”

  “You do like dramatic entrances.”

  “I can’t help myself.”

  “If you need me—”

  “I’ll ask,” she said, stowing away the dagger. “Will you do the same?”

  He nodded. It took every thread of his discipline to pull away from her. The gates swung open. The moment he walked past them, Alaka would vanish. The empire of Ujijain would unravel before him. A wish could not carve out the future any more than believing in destiny could make you deserve it. He knew that now, and even if Alaka had cut out one belief, it had left him with a hundred new ones, each more powerful than the last.

  “Vikram,” called Gauri. He turned to her. “When I figure out … everything … I won’t make you wait.”

  He laughed. “You said that last time.”

  And then he stepped through the gates.

  43

  RUSTLING FEATHERS

  AASHA

  Aasha traced the unmarked skin at her throat where a blue star once stained her neck. Closing her eyes, she searched herself for the memory of venom dancing through her veins, and the blue star bloomed beneath her fingers. She could control it now, and the ability to make that choice left her heady with power. The moment she made her wish, her life cleaved in two: before and after. Strange how it was nothing more than a handful of words that changed her life.

  The Lord of Treasures was the one who coaxed the wish out of her. She had been crouching on the ground, her fingers stained with Vikram’s blood, her whole body shivering with helplessness. Why couldn’t she touch him and pull the knife from his back? Why couldn’t she push Gauri out of harm’s way? Her body was a prison.

  “I knew it would be harder for you,” the Lord of Treasures said from across the room.

  Aasha remembered blinking through her tears and staring at the emptied room. The Otherworld was quick to lose interest. Once the humans slumped to the floor, the entertainment had ended. They had left for the courtyard grounds, goblets of happy memories sloshing onto the floor. Indifference painted the air stiff and brittle. Aasha had hated every moment that they left. She’d hated the moment where she had looked for Gauri and Vikram, only to see the outline of their bodies and not their actual selves. Had Alaka spirited away the dead so as not to ruin the palace decorations?

  The Nameless laughed in a corner, blue stars shining on their throats. The knowledge that they were vishakanyas unsettled her. As the Lord of Treasures walked across the emptied floors and made his way to her, the Nameless had twirled in a circle and executed a clumsy bow in his direction.

  “Another hundred years of magic are ours,” they sang. “Our vengeance lives on.”

  “Yes,” said the Lord of Treasures, and Aasha thought she heard an echo of sadness in his voice. “You’ve passed on your enchantments for another hundred years. Perhaps, one day, your vengeance will give way to freedom. Or perhaps you will always dance out of time, not quite ghosts and not quite beings, shedding a little more of your humanity every time.”

  “We do this for her,” the Nameless said, pointing at Aasha and sneering. “We will do it again.” They turned to Aasha. “You see, girl? We are you as you are us. We gave you and your sisters the gift of our blood and our legacy. Because of us, nothing can touch you. You should be thanking us, not mourning those things. They would not mourn you.”

  Aasha said nothing, and the Nameless only laughed and disappeared.

  “You let them die,” she said.

  “I am not so cruel, child,” said the Lord of Treasures, lifting her chin. “I merely let their choices play out as they will.”

  “What will happen to them?”

  “That is not for either of us to decide,” he said. “Here. Have a wish for yourself.”

  He held out his hand to show a wisp of light dancing at the center of his palm. A choice stretched out before her. The words of the Nameless rang in her ears: nothing can touch you. They were right. Knowledge and curiosity would never brush against her mind. She would only know an enclosure of silk and poison. She would know only the desires of others and nothing of her own. Magic was a bargain. In a hundred years, perhaps the vishakanya magic would ebb little by little, turning them human once more if they lived that long.

  But Aasha was restless. The Tournament of Wishes had ignited a hunger in her own heart. Curiosity felt like a phantom limb, a part of her that had died and demanded resurrection. In the arms of her sisters, the world was so small she could cup it in her palms. That world had love and friendship. The Nameless were wrong. Vengeance wasn’t their legacy. Only venom. Her sisters were proof. So many of them entered the vishakanyas’ fold not for vengeance … but for freedom. They didn’t even call their gift vengeance, but a Blessing. They made it their own.

  With her knees folded beneath her, Aasha felt like a fledgling bird, half blind and all eager. She reached for the wispy wish, curling it between her fingers and bringing it to her lips. She uttered her wish without words—a wish for control and choice, for curiosity and courage. When she opened her eyes, the Lord of Treasures was gone. And so was her star.

  Aasha had wandered through the courtyard, circling the vishakanyas’ tent for most of the night until she summoned the courage to enter and reveal what she had done. She switched between her human and vishakanya self, bracing herself for disgust. But her sisters’ embraces were nothing but warm, though they were careful to make sure they could touch her. They pressed their true names to her wrists, and enchanted bracelets sprouted around her arms: protection spells and keys between worlds, charms for beauty and wealth, for good health and better dreams.

  That night, she slept in the forest, beneath the stars and on a bed of blossoms. The next day, she made her way to the gates of Alaka and she found a familiar silhouette waiting at the exit. Gauri stared at the gate as if her heart were on the other side. The moment she saw Aasha, she smiled widely before her gaze fell to the empty patch of skin at her neck.

  “My wish came true,” said Aasha.

  “You wished to no longer be a vishakanya?”

  She shook her head. “I wished to honor the heritage of my sisters and my own curiosity.”

  Aasha removed her hand, and the blue star flared onto her skin before disappearing.

  “You can control it?” Gauri asked, wide-eyed.

  “Perhaps it will be of use to me during my travels.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I haven’t quite figured that out yet, but I think that’s what I like most.”

  Gauri grinned. “I don’t know where your travels will take you, but there will always be a home for you in Bharata. And plenty of food, so you won’t have to try eating a flower again.” Aasha laughed. “A room and a meal is the least I could offer. You saved our lives.”

  Aasha fell quiet. “Maybe you saved mine too.” She held out her hand, but Gauri pushed it aside and drew her into a hug. “I wish you well, my friend.”

  “And I wish you will have no need of wishes.”

  Gauri stepped past the gates, her chin held high and eyes fixed on a world that Aasha couldn’t see. Magic sparked through the air, sifting light through her skin until she looked like a held flame: incandescent and roaring. In a blink, she disappeared. Aasha smiled to herself and walked slowly to the gate. She looked over her shoulder, to the magic of
golden spires piercing the sky, to the crumpled silk pennants of her sisters’ tent and the rustling of feathers on the wings of unfinished stories. She walked forward.

  This time, she didn’t look back.

  44

  A TURNED HEART

  GAURI

  Midnight in Bharata.

  Bharata looked the same. All that time that Ujijain had kept me locked up, I thought I’d come home to a collection of ruins. But I was far less critical to holding Bharata together than I thought I was. Only a month should have passed since my time in Alaka. One deep breath of air confirmed it. Monsoon season. Large thunderheads hovered over in the distance, their rain-heavy bellies waiting to snag on the mountain peaks.

  I had imagined coming back to Bharata a hundred ways and a thousand times. I imagined riding at the head of an army. Pennants streaming. Flags flying so high that they looked like bloody dents formed by fingers raking the sky. I imagined clashing swords and brutal victory, terrible violence that seared memories and proved that no one could keep me from my throne. But Bharata didn’t need bloodshed. And neither did I. What my country wanted and what I needed were the same. We didn’t want to sing the song of war and blood, of power squabbles and viciousness. We wanted a new beginning.

  The palace gates were shuttered like folded arms. Behind them, I heard the rustle of the sentinels’ armor. Kauveri’s gift burned in my bag, a snippet of magic from a roaring river and energy that was hungry for release. If my plan worked, I wouldn’t have to fight. My glass hand caught the moonlight and I bit back a wince. I couldn’t fight. This plan had to work.

  “Who goes there?” called the main guard.

  I cleared my throat and stood up a little straighter.

  “The Princess Gauri of Bharata.”

  I could hear them shuffling behind the door, whispers growing into threats and hushed conversations. Seconds slid into minutes and the whispers grew into louder and louder threats.

  “—let her in!”

  “—a lie—”

  “You know he won’t allow—”

  “—supposed to be—”

  Alaka might have changed my perspective, but it had done nothing for my patience.

  “Open this gate and let me through,” I said. “I am your princess and you are bound by honor and duty to obey me.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded a voice I knew far too well. My body responded before my mind did, nausea gripping my stomach. Skanda.

  “Your Majesty, the woman outside the gate says that she is Princess Gauri. Perhaps all these months that she has been lost, she has returned—”

  “I have,” I said loudly. I was surprised Skanda hadn’t immediately spread a rumor that I was dead. But then again, Ujijain never had the chance to execute me. Skanda liked proof. I murmured a silent thanks to Vikram. “Dear brother, why don’t you let me in?”

  “We will not entertain these lies,” said Skanda. “This woman is an imposter. She should be hanged on the spot. Guards!”

  “But she sounds just like her,” said a meek voice.

  A murmur of agreement ran through the sentinels.

  “No worries, brother,” I said. “If you won’t let me into the gate, I’ll just go over it.”

  I smiled. I threw Kauveri’s water dagger into the ground, and it grew into a trident forged from a river’s mouth. Moonlight shone through the water, turning it silver and resplendent. The sound of rushing water lit up the air, shaking the ground with silent tremors. The trident trembled. Water pooled around my ankles, squeezing between the bottoms of my feet and the ground and rising like a controlled flood.

  “What was that?” said someone behind the gate.

  “Probably just the thunder,” snapped Skanda.

  Alaka taught me that the world was little more than a pulsing story that had no beginning and no ending. From the moment I set foot in Bharata, I was starting a story.

  But why settle for a story, when I could start a legend?

  I smiled, raising the trident into the air and smashing it into the ground. A thousand jetting streams of water rushed beneath my feet, bracketing my ankles and calves as they shot up and carried me with them. My stomach plummeted as the enchantment pushed me through the air. Up here, I couldn’t even see the tops of the trees, but I was eye-level with the mountains and maybe if I reached high enough, I could peel a star out of the sky. Down below, the shouts of the guards barely reached my ears. I let myself hover above them, relishing the cold and sweet air of midnight, this moment of magic that teetered on the edge of breaking. I raised one of my legs, and the column of water followed suit, pouring over the gate. I raised my other leg for the final step over the gate. If I wanted, I could drown Skanda. But I refused to rule with blood on my hands. Even his. I closed my eyes, and the columns of water roaring beneath me collapsed gracefully until I shot down to the eye level of a dozen Bharata guards and my brother.

  “Recognize me now?”

  The guards dropped their weapons. Half of them prostrated themselves on the ground, muttering prayers beneath their breaths. The other half stared, jaws slack and eyes wide. It took every bit of strength not to gloat and scream. Skanda was the first to catch his thoughts.

  “My heart is light to see you safe, my sister. And so … gifted from your travels,” he said. “We have much to discuss. You there—” He snapped his fingers to a white-faced attendant. “—get her chambers ready and inform General Arjun that our princess has returned.”

  The attendant didn’t move. I smiled. The attendant moved immediately. Skanda did not miss the exchange. His gaze narrowed.

  “You returned despite great risk to life and limb,” he said, his tone artificially admirable. “And with a fascinating trick to add to the country’s arsenal of weapons. I am pleased.”

  We both knew that he wasn’t talking about my life and limb. Nalini was the unspoken danger. But Skanda’s words, despite their meaning, carried hope: I was still risking her life. She was alive. My greatest fear went unrealized. I had to fight down the urge to smile. Instead, I bowed my head. His gaze fell to my glass hand. I flexed it. I could already see how he was trying to twist the magic he’d seen:

  Demon-touched.

  Possessed.

  A vector for evil.

  But he wasn’t the only one trained in storytelling anymore. I embraced my brother, even though I wanted to rip off my skin at his touch. As I walked along the corridors of Bharata, I kept looking out of the corner of my eye, waiting for someone to pounce out of the shadows. I wouldn’t be able to fight them with a glass hand that refused to pick up a weapon.

  I paced in the chambers, Kauveri’s dagger strapped to my leg even as I bathed and changed out of the traveling clothes. After Alaka, every color looked dim.

  Skanda refused to place me in the harem, claiming I would upset the women before he had a chance to explain my return. Coward. The last thing he wanted was every woman in the harem armed with the knowledge of magic and prepared to fight him.

  Someone knocked at the door. I opened it, expecting to see an attendant. Arjun stared back at me. My throat tightened. Joy, hurt and fury shredded me all at once. This was the man who showed me what a brother was. He had carried me for half the day when I broke my leg. Split his desserts with me. Teased me out of bad moods and sobered me when I needed it. And yet, he’d stood by when Skanda had dragged Nalini to the throne room. He’d known my plans and betrayed me. He clenched his jaw, his gaze turning flinty.

  “How could you come back after everything you did?” he demanded.

  I felt as if the carpet had been pulled out from beneath me. I stood there, shocked.

  “You put my life in danger. You put Nalini’s life in danger,” he hissed. Stepping forward. “How could you? And after all this, after we pleaded for Skanda not to kill you, you come back?”

  Fury rose inside me.

  “What are you talking about, Arjun?” I demanded. “How dare you even talk to me about Nalini’s safety when you
betrayed me at the moment when I needed you the most, when Nalini needed you the most?”

  A shadow moved behind him. Useless as it was, I placed my glass hand on the other iron dagger strapped to my left arm. The shadow slipped into the room, and its owner slid into view:

  Nalini.

  I couldn’t help myself. I tried to throw my arms around her, but she stepped away from me and into Arjun’s arms. She didn’t look as though she’d spent any time in a prison. I stared at them, my breath catching. What was happening?

  “Nalini … it’s me.… I came back for you.”

  “To do what? Make sure that she was dead even after we spared you?” returned Arjun.

  “Spared me?”

  They stepped into the room, closing the door.

  “Talk to me, Nalini. Please. You have no idea what I fought through to get to you,” I said, my whole body trembling.

  Nalini stared at me as if I really were a stranger. She stared at me as if I were the enemy and not the victim. When I reached for her, she moved back a step. My heart split.

  “Before you left, Skanda told me that he knew all about your rebellion,” she said, not looking at me. “He said that it was to make sure that my father’s lands would never pass to me—”

  “I would never do that!” I protested.

  “I asked you, Gauri,” she said. “Don’t you remember? I came to you and I demanded to know what would happen to me in your scheme of power?”

  I remembered.

  “Why are you bringing that up?” I said. “You inheriting power only applies if you reach your eighteenth year. You’re hardly in your sixteenth. A thousand and one things could happen between now and then. Focus on what we can control in the present.”

  Time froze. That was the same night I had confronted her in the garden. The same night I thought I heard Skanda’s spies moving in the darkness.

  “He showed us documents you’d written.…” said Nalini, her voice breaking.

  The false documents. I closed my eyes. I had written those to protect what I was doing. I intended for them to fall into the “wrong hands,” but my brother had done just that.