Star Daughter

by Shveta Thakrar

  “Why are you here?” she demanded, hating how part of her was glad to see him, to hear him admiring her shimmering starlight tresses. What was wrong with her?

  “Nice to see you, too,” Dev said, like he’d just casually run into her between classes at school.

  She grabbed his wrist, and a shock passed between them, making her shiver. “We need to talk.”

  He jerked free. “Oh, so now you want to talk?”

  The curly-haired man had to pick that exact moment to join the conversation. “Hi,” he said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. “So you’re the famous Sheetal. You ran off before I could say hi at the welcome ceremony.”

  “Bhai,” Dev mumbled, dropping his gaze.

  Bhai. Sheetal realized where she knew this guy from. The pictures on Dev’s wall. Jeet. The flame at her core sparked, ready to burn things. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Maybe we should go outside,” Jeet suggested lightly, and with the stars of House Revati—and that apsara—goggling at them, Sheetal couldn’t argue. She deposited her half-full cup on a nearby table and nodded.

  “Excuse us a minute,” Jeet told his entourage, and it parted just enough to let the three of them pass.

  They hurried through the double doors and into the corridor, where Sheetal turned her glare on Dev. “What are you doing here?”

  Jeet smiled agreeably. “I know things got out of hand, but it wasn’t his fault.”

  “Out of hand? You sent him to spy on me!” With her stupid lips still tingling, it was easier to look at him than Dev.

  Jeet held up his hands. “You’re right. That was out of line, and I own it. I never should have asked him to do that.”

  When Sheetal didn’t say anything, he went on. “Think I’m a jerk all you want, but don’t blame him. He really let me have it after he met you, and I backed off.”

  He shifted to stand directly in front of her, and for a second, it looked like his skin had a weird silver-pale cast. But then she realized he was just reflecting her own furious flame. So was the entire hallway. “What are you trying to say? Yes, you did spy on me, but it’s okay because you stopped?”

  “No. I’m trying to apologize.” Jeet and Dev didn’t look alike at all, but that self-deprecating expression was one hundred percent Dev. “And doing a bang-up job of it, huh? Listen, I’m sorry.”

  Against her will, Sheetal thawed a smidge. She nodded stiffly. She hadn’t expected an apology, but she wasn’t ready to forgive him, either. Or Dev, for that matter.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to catch up, but seriously, Dev was trying to do the right thing. I just want you to know that.” Jeet nodded at her and disappeared back into the common room.

  Now that they were alone, Sheetal didn’t know where to look. Every bit of her was all too aware of how close Dev was, how all she’d have to do to touch him was take that last step. Finally she settled on a patch of wall just behind his ear. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

  Dev crossed his arms. “I thought you didn’t want to hear anything I had to say.”

  “Are you serious?” Sheetal couldn’t believe him.

  “I’m here to provide moral support. The trusty sidekick, or mortal companion, as they call it here.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “What I can’t get is why anyone would want a star torturer’s whatever-grandkid as their champion.”

  She was so mad, but something treacherous deep inside her wanted to forget everything and just kiss him. That made her even madder. She leaned against the wall, trying to look bored.

  “How long are you going to hold that against me, anyway?” Dev asked the mosaic ceiling. “It’s not like I even had anything to do with it. Jeet didn’t, either.”

  “No, but—but,” Sheetal stammered. “But you knew what I was, and you pretended you didn’t!”

  Gods, why did she feel like crying? He was just a stupid boy.

  Just the stupid boy who knew I was a star and spied on me.

  Dev stuck his hands in his pockets. “Look, none of us believed in that whole family legend thing, all right? But then someone from the Revati nakshatra showed up and asked him to be their champion.”

  They should have picked you. She quashed the thought, horrified at herself. “How did they hear about him?”

  “His fiction is starting to take off. You know, the kind of stuff in the New Yorker? Literary fiction?”

  “Your cousin writes for the New Yorker?” Sheetal couldn’t help being impressed. “You never told me that.”

  “No, but he wants to. Anyway, the desi community out there is buzzing about him, especially after he won a Flying Start grant last fall.” Dev smiled proudly. “Growing up, he didn’t always have it easy like I did, you know? But he always supported my music no matter what anyone else said. He’s earned this shot.”

  “But he’s a star hunter. A star hunter.” Sheetal stared at him, waiting for that to sink in. “How is anyone here remotely okay with that?”

  He threw her an annoyed glance. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? You might as well call me a star hunter, then. It’s been, like, fifteen generations since that happened. Most of my family doesn’t even believe you exist.”

  Overreacting? Sheetal could have screamed. “So why do they keep telling that awful story?”

  “I told you. It’s bizarre, something to make them stand out, like when people say they’re descended from Jack the Ripper. Does that make every single person who shares DNA with him a serial killer?”

  Put like that, it sounded really stupid. Her cheeks heated. “Whatever. Did you ever even like me?”

  She’d meant to hurt him, but he only looked mystified and a tad vulnerable. “Of course I do. Why are you asking that?”

  “But your cousin made you talk to me. You said so.” Sheetal didn’t know why she was pushing this. What was she hoping for, anyway?

  “Look, everyone here knows your mom had a kid on Earth. I guess that’s kind of a big deal? And the star from Revati told—”

  “Told Jeet, and he asked you to spy on me,” Sheetal finished for him. Her throat stung, and she found herself tearing at a hangnail. “So what’d you report? Was I useful? Is he all set to win the competition now, what with his insider info on stars and our weak spots?”

  “It wasn’t like that!” Dev protested, moving closer. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

  “Only because I didn’t know anything for you to tell.” Sheetal shook her head. She kind of believed him; that was the worst part.

  “Sheetal, listen—” His voice cracked, then broke off as a band of stars headed their way. The stars nodded at Dev but frowned at her. She made herself smile brightly in return.

  “Save it, Dev,” she said the second they’d left. “Just admit you tried to use me.”

  “Well, we both did things. I mean, you ran off without letting me explain!”

  Sheetal laughed. “‘We both did things.’” Like kissing. Rivers of silver flame gusted up her arms and to her face. What if that had happened while they were making out? “You’re kidding, right?”

  Eyes wide, he shrank back. “You didn’t exactly tell me you were a star, either.”

  She was glad to have scared him, she told herself, even as the flames died away. She was. “Seriously? We were together for three months.”

  “So? Would six months have been better?” Dev looked skeptical. “A year? Ten years? Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “Oh, no,” Sheetal said. How was he putting this on her? “This is not my fault. Don’t even try that.”

  “I’m just trying to say you had your reasons, and so did I.”

  She couldn’t handle how calm he sounded. “Reasons? Really?”

  He took a step toward her, his smile hopeful as he reached out a hand. “Look, I miss you. Can’t we just go back to how it was before?”

  Yes, a pathetic part of her whispered. It urged h
er to tell him she missed him, too. She buried that part as deep as she could, where no one would ever know. Because she couldn’t say yes.

  “Go back to how it was?” she retorted instead. “You mean, when you were using me to write your songs? Or how about go back to when I burned my dad because of you? Back then?”

  Let Dev hurt the way he’d hurt her.

  His hand dropped to his side. “Because of me?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I was so upset when I got home yesterday that I couldn’t control it. If you hadn’t lied to me . . .”

  Dev’s warm gaze went opaque. “You’re right; I should’ve told you sooner I knew what you are, okay? I’d be mad, too.” Sheetal opened her mouth, but he kept going. “But don’t tell me I made you burn your dad. You did that.”

  The fire in Sheetal died, a match blown out. She slid down the wall. He was right. She’d done it. Only she had done it.

  Dev yanked open the doors, then wheeled around. “And just so you know, I was supposed to come here the night of the party, when Jeet did. But I didn’t because I wanted to spend more time with you. And then because I didn’t want to just take off after we had that fight.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

  Cringing inwardly, Sheetal shot back, “But you’re still supporting him?”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  “Even though you know I’m his rival or whatever?”

  Dev didn’t nod again, but he didn’t need to.

  There was no limit to how many times a heart could break in a row. “I guess we know where things stand, then,” Sheetal murmured, as much to herself as to him.

  “Yeah,” said Dev. “I guess so.” He vanished inside, letting the heavy doors bang shut behind him.

  From her hiding spot behind a cabinet in Nani’s and Nana’s study, Sheetal listened to the convocation argue about her. A group of stars wearing diadems like her grandparents’ sat around the formal table, ignoring the silver crystal cups in front of them to glare at her family.

  A middle-aged star from House Magha finished railing against the injustice of a half-star champion, but instead of replying, Nana only took a leisurely pull at his drink. None of the delegates missed the slight. The sidereal song darkened with their hostility, and starlight bright enough to dazzle even Sheetal’s eyes overwhelmed the space.

  Nani, however, merely smiled. Beside her, Charumati held a tightly rolled scroll with rounded silver dowels. In their place, Sheetal would have been sweating bullets and buckets and anything else she could, but her mother and grandmother just looked serene, graceful and glowing, as composed as if they were sipping tea in a garden. A little vexed at being bothered, maybe, but that was it.

  “If protocol is not meant to be observed,” the star from House Magha asked, “why bother with a competition at all? What prevents my house from simply claiming the ruling seats right now?”

  “If it is that simple,” a younger female star added, “I deem it so: the court belongs to the Ashvini nakshatra!”

  A star about Nani’s age from House Krittika lifted his cup just to set it back down with a clatter. “You may grasp for power as much as you wish, Eshana. That is your right. Nevertheless, it does not extend to flouting the regulations.”

  “We adhered to the bylaws and selected purely mortal champions,” the star from House Ashvini called. “Why is the Pushya nakshatra not bound by the same?”

  “A fair question,” Nani said coolly, every bit the sovereign. “Please permit me to pose a question of my own. Where in the bylaws does it say a champion must have solely mortal blood?” She signaled to Charumati, who untied her scroll and let one end of the parchment unspool.

  Charumati ran a long finger down the text. “‘Qualifications for eligibility: each prospective nakshatra must name a mortal champion. The champion must then be trained and prepared to compete.’ Odd—I see no stipulations beyond that.”

  The star from House Magha glowered. “Let me see that.” When Charumati offered him the scroll, he snatched it from her.

  “It is about the spirit of the law, Eshanaben,” the star from House Krittika said, waggling his head. “Not the letter.”

  Nani folded her arms. “No one is preventing any of you from seeking out a mortal champion with naga blood or apsara blood. Do so now, with my blessing. I merely chose to select a mortal champion from within my family.”

  “Then the bylaws must be rewritten for specificity,” the star from House Ashvini declared.

  “By all means,” Charumati said. “In time for the next competition.”

  Sheetal almost laughed out loud. It was kind of fun to watch Nani and Charumati manipulate someone else.

  When Nana shook his head in warning, she realized she’d stepped out too far past the cabinet and made herself visible. Her heart shrieking like an alarm, she skidded backward.

  But he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. While the other representatives of the competing nakshatras all continued griping and protesting, a woman about Charumati’s age pointed to Sheetal. “And there she is, the source of contention herself. Loud and untaught, a liability to the nakshatra she represents.”

  Sheetal’s pulse drummed even harder with a horrifying thought. Oh, gods, had these stars heard her feelings about Dev? The anger, the longing, all on display for strangers—she wanted to crawl out of her skin. She was half a star, so why couldn’t she just dissolve into pure light and escape through the wall?

  Not knowing what else to do, she schooled her face into a placid expression and waved.

  The star who had called attention to Sheetal smirked. She had a pearl-smooth complexion and large, knowing eyes, and her silver locks were threaded through with black diamonds. She had to be from House Revati, but unlike the others, she didn’t have a circlet. “Oh, everyone knows how dearly you care for the sanctity of rules, Charumati,” she purred. “After all, were you not the one who flouted your own house’s ban on consorting with mortals?”

  Sheetal wondered just what had gone down between this person and her mother to make her so vindictive. Had they been friends? Rivals? No love lost there, for sure.

  “And now you have enlisted your half-mortal daughter to help you regain the court,” the star from House Revati accused, her mirth dwindling. “You will never change, will you, Charumati? Everything is about you and your convenience.”

  Sheetal glanced at Nana. His gentle face had gone hard-edged, but he stayed quiet.

  “They are consistent that way,” the star from House Magha agreed. “Eshana and Charumati both. And now their house thinks it will take over speaking for the rest of us again.”

  “With a half-mortal brat as your mouthpiece, no less!” The star from House Revati sounded disgusted, but the gleam in her eyes betrayed just how much she was enjoying this. “Have you no shame, any of you?”

  “Come, Rati,” Charumati said, retrieving the scroll and rolling it up. Though her voice was cool, her ire rang out in the astral melody, all crescendi and bass. “I am well aware of what you think of me, but there is no reason to bring my daughter into it.”

  Rati smiled, a slow and sharp smile. “Ah, but you brought her into it, as your champion. I am merely commenting on the injustice of the situation.”

  “Enough,” Nani said, her silver-brown eyes sparking. “I will not hear another word against my kin.”

  The star from House Ashvini grimaced. “Please, Rati, hold your insults. Our goal is not to inflame House Pushya.”

  “The truth is now considered an insult?” Rati sipped her drink. “Such an interesting era we live in.”

  “Surely you see the fault in this, Jagdeeshbhai?” the star from House Krittika asked. “The strife this propagates between our houses—will you not put an end to it?”

  Nana lay his hand on Sheetal’s shoulder. “Esteemed colleagues, I fully concur that animosity among the nakshatras brings harm to all. For that very reason, as we have ascertained no bylaws are in breach at this time, I suggest we table
this discussion and allow the competition, rather than any one of us and our biases, to decide the outcome.”

  The other delegates exchanged disgruntled looks. “As you are not in breach of the bylaws,” the star from House Magha said slowly, as if the words caused him pain, “I have no choice but to acquiesce.” He rose to leave. “Know, however, that I will see the regulations redrafted, House Pushya.”

  “Please do,” said Nani amiably. “Specificity can only be to the good of all.”

  There was still so much Sheetal didn’t know, but one thing she did: she wasn’t going to let a bunch of incensed stars or anyone else interfere with her mission. Dad needed her.

  “Thank you, everyone,” she said, “for this opportunity to air your concerns. I look forward to seeing you again at the competition.”

  “Now, if you will excuse us”—Charumati flashed Rati a smile as sweet as jalebi—“our champion’s training awaits.”

  Rati bowed slightly as she moved toward the door. As she passed Sheetal, she whispered, “I am certain we will meet again, mortal girl, and soon.”

  15

  “Shall we go?” Charumati asked Sheetal. “Your voice rehearsal awaits, and our time is running short.”

  Sheetal definitely didn’t need the reminder. The competition was in less than two days, and they’d already burned through the morning. She could almost hear the timer counting down in her ear. “Lead the way.”

  But forty minutes into their rehearsal slot, she was ready to hightail it out of the central court. First she’d wasted twenty minutes racking her brain for songs she might sing and play her own accompaniment to, complicated ones she knew well enough to pull off without weeks of practice, but it was like someone had scrubbed her memory clean.

  She’d finally decided on two possible candidates, an Irish folk ballad and a classical Hindu bhajan, when Charumati announced they’d be doing warm-up drills. “Let us begin with the lip trill.”

  “You don’t have to do this when you sing,” Sheetal muttered. She’d always avoided this particular exercise; there was no way not to feel stupid when burbling “brbrbr” like a kid blowing raspberries. Did Dev do this?