From where he stood by the wall, Dev coughed a very fake, I’m here, too cough. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“We went for a walk,” Jeet slurred, obviously having had a glass or two of his own already. “But where were you? You never came to dinner.”
“Yeah, I—” Dev frowned and stepped closer to him. “Wait, are you drunk? The competition’s tomorrow!”
“It’s just frostberry wine. This stuff doesn’t last.” Twisting slightly so Priyanka and Dev couldn’t see, Jeet tipped a tiny vial over his wineglass. Turning back, he gulped down the drink. “Anyway, you can celebrate with us now. Look, Priyanka, my cousin-brother’s here!”
“I’m not really in the mood,” Dev said, his neck and shoulders stiff, and Sheetal realized he was deliberately not looking in her direction. “How about we just call it a night?”
Jeet ruffled Dev’s hair. “Relax, man. It’s my job to play big brother, not yours.”
“It’s called letting off steam,” Priyanka said, clinking her glass against Jeet’s. “We’ll still be ready to compete tomorrow, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
Dev’s jaw worked, but he said nothing.
“Look,” Jeet said, “I know you liked her, but girls come and go. You can do better, trust me.” He tapped Dev a little too hard on the shoulder.
Sheetal narrowed her eyes. Like Jeet was any catch, with that charming personality.
“Is that what you think this is?” Dev asked. “That I’m upset about Sheetal? Bhai, I’m trying to look out for you.”
“I don’t need you to,” Jeet said. “I just need you to back off.”
Priyanka twined a finger through his curls. “So where’s that book you were going to show me?”
Dev’s fed-up look told Sheetal he’d seen more than enough. “Party if you want, but I need to sleep,” he said flatly.
“Fine, we’ll go somewhere else. Lighten up, little brother.” Jeet swapped his empty wineglass for a book on the desk, using that as cover while he deposited the vial he’d palmed into a drawer. Then he put his arm around Priyanka. Together they staggered into the bathroom.
But not before Sheetal glimpsed the contents of the vial—shimmering silver liquid.
She’d seen something like that before, in Dev’s memory. Star’s blood.
Jeet’s starry cast made sense now. So did the dark bags under his eyes. The hollows in his cheeks.
He’s drinking it.
What had the library book said? Something about heightening inspiration?
Mortals. Her mother was right; they couldn’t help themselves. Even the good ones got pulverized under the heels of the rest.
The bathroom door clicked closed. Sheetal and Dev were alone again, the air around them weighted down with the burden of everything they now knew.
Sheetal hauled herself to her feet and made straight for the drawer before Dev could stop her. Her fingers closed around the vial, and she gave it to him. “Dev,” she whispered, so Jeet and Priyanka couldn’t hear, “he’s—he’s drinking this.”
He stared at the vial, its silver light staining his skin, as if he could make it disappear.
“I need to take that,” Sheetal said as gently as she could. “I have to show my mom and my grandma.”
“No.” Dev pocketed the vial. He wouldn’t look at her.
She sighed. “See, this is why I hate secrets. They make you think people are different from how they really are. You think you can trust them.”
Dev wasn’t listening. “You should go. I need to talk to my cousin.” His words clumped together like the breath had been knocked out of him, and from his bewildered expression, Sheetal could tell he was barely keeping it together.
Her heart hurt. Who knew better than she did what that felt like?
She took his hand. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m just . . . sorry.”
“Oh, yeah?” He observed their joined fingers. “Then why did you come here?” His laugh was pained. “Congrats. Now Jeet can get kicked out instead of you. So can you just go?”
Trying not to sob, Sheetal left.
24
The morning of Sheetal’s seventeenth birthday began like any other morning in Svargalok—fresh, scenic, sparkling. She watched it happen from the balcony in her room, the star-scattered darkness gradually submitting to the golden grandeur of Lord Surya as his chariot, drawn by seven white horses, rolled past. The brilliant blue sky that came after him was rich enough to eat for breakfast, and she scowled at it.
Some birthday. Today was the day she had to save Dad’s life.
If she hadn’t burned him, she’d be waking up right now, and he’d be in the kitchen, carefully assembling a stack of mixed-berry waffles drenched in maple syrup and vanilla whipped cream. There’d be a new biography, maybe movie tickets or a bookstore gift card, plans for a day trip somewhere, a new outfit of chaniya choli or salwar kameez from Radhikafoi and Deepakfua, and of course, a hug paired with the old one-liner about how soon she’d be taller than Dad if she kept having birthdays.
And Minal would drop by with a silly plastic tiara, glittery balloons, and five or six beautifully wrapped presents she’d set aside over the course of the year. A couple would be gag gifts, but at least one would be a thing she’d made herself, a clay unicorn figurine or a bracelet or a batch of rose-raspberry truffles.
Sheetal let her hair fall over her face like a curtain. Not only was she missing all that, but today would have been her first birthday with a boyfriend. She struggled to keep her chin from quivering.
She hadn’t told Minal about the vial of star’s blood because she knew what Minal would say. It was the same thing Sheetal would say in her place—that she had to turn Jeet in right now.
Maybe it made her weak, but she couldn’t do that to Dev, not when she’d seen the reverence in his eyes, heard the devotion in his voice, whenever he’d mentioned Jeet. Not without giving them a chance to talk first.
The despair in his face last night, the break in his words when he’d asked her to leave, ate at her. What if she’d lost him for good?
Get over yourself, she ordered. You get to have a freaking ball for your birthday!
She didn’t know why seventeen was so special by star standards, or why that made her an adult, but she’d take it. Maybe when she got home, she could tell Radhikafoi to quit bossing her around.
The sun blazed higher in the sky as if mocking her. Okay, fine. Not even magic could accomplish that.
Sheetal got up and reached for her journal in its silk bag, wanting to sink into the entries she’d read more times than she could count. Charumati’s stories, of the naga maiden, of the various heroes and heroines who had declared their goals and then set off after them. Wanting them to fortify her with their reminder that she could do this.
As she fumbled with the strings, the bag slipped out of her grasp and disappeared under the bed. So, birthday or not, it was going to be that kind of morning. She knelt to retrieve the journal, and her fingers bumped against something hard.
Her stomach took a nosedive. You’ve got to be kidding.
“Happy birthday, Sheetu!” Minal called, hurrying to her side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t grab your gifts before we left. I’ll make it up to you when we get back.”
Sheetal pointed under the bed, where two small wooden heads could be seen. “The missing marionettes? Not so missing anymore.”
Minal bent to look. She swore a very expressive string of curses.
“Happy birthday to me.” Fury like Sheetal had never felt, not even when Radhikafoi admitted to hiding Charumati’s letter, boiled up in her. She retrieved the marionettes and stood, her flame crackling until the room blazed like a quasar.
Minal threw a hand over her eyes. “Can you dial that back a little?”
“Sorry.” Sheetal picked up a hair clip on the dresser and put it back, jitters coursing through her as she toned down her light.
Still blinking, Minal took the puppets from her. “They look okay, a
t least.”
“They were basically out in the open. Someone wanted them to be found. And me to get blamed. Who hates me that much?”
“I think it’s more who sees you as a threat,” Minal said. “Definitely not Leela. Sachin or Jeet?” Sheetal shook her head. “Priyanka? No, too obvious.”
“One of them must have access to a key, too, or at least to a very helpful star who doesn’t mind bending some rules. Like Rati. I mean, she did tell me I wasn’t going to like what happened.”
“But who did she—”
Someone rapped at the door. Sheetal nearly burst out of her skin at the sound. Minal shoved the marionettes back under the bed as far as they’d go.
“Lady Sheetal?” Padmini called.
Okay, that’s not so bad, Sheetal thought. Padmini could help them figure out how to deal with this. “Come in.”
But it was Beena who sailed into the room with a cache of cosmetics and clothes. “Oh, this is so exhilarating!” She practically skipped over to the vanity, where she hurried to unload her burden. “I could scarcely contain myself for anticipation. Such an honor to be chosen to attend to you as your lady-in-waiting on this of all days, Lady Sheetal, and you as well, companion Minal!”
Sheetal fought not to let her annoyance show. It wasn’t like Beena knew she was in the way.
Padmini trailed in, her subdued demeanor a total contrast to Beena, who was busy hunting through drawers and exclaiming over the objects she dug out.
Elation warmed Minal’s face like a candle. “Hi.”
Padmini, though, kept her gaze down. Her strain in the astral melody was concerned, even frightened, before she veiled it. “I have requested Beena take over my duties today, as I am needed elsewhere.”
Still beaming, Minal tried to catch her eye. “You do remember it’s Sheetal’s birthday, right? Her natal day, you called it?”
But Padmini only muttered something incomprehensible. Minal bit her lip, her happiness dimming. Sheetal couldn’t decide whether to hug her or yell at Padmini.
“Your hair is quite lustrous today, Lady Sheetal,” Beena noted. “A true star’s mane.”
“You can thank Padmini for that,” Sheetal said, grateful for the opening. She smiled at Padmini, who stepped in front of her. “So what’s this magic hair cream, and where do I sign up? It felt like I didn’t even have any split ends yesterday.”
Padmini spoke coldly. “I did nothing.”
Fear knocked at the back of Sheetal’s skull. “But that’s not possible.” She separated out a shimmering tress and curved it around her hand so the ends showed. They were as smooth and level as if she’d just had a routine touch-up. “You didn’t trim it when I wasn’t looking or something, did you?”
“How should I have done that?” Padmini gripped Sheetal’s chin in one hand and angled it right, then left, examining her face while never meeting her eyes. “Beena, she will not need much in the way of cosmetics, either.”
“Why not?” Sheetal asked. She felt for the bulbous Rudolph’s nose of a zit Padmini had covered up for the past two days.
It was gone. So were the smaller bumps around her chin.
“If that is all, I will leave you in Beena’s capable care,” Padmini announced, turning to leave.
“Wait! Can you give us a second alone, Beena?” Minal asked.
“Certainly,” Beena said. She’d been sorting through a box of bangles, and now she took it out onto the balcony.
“Padmini?” Minal moved toward her. Padmini frowned at the floor.
All Minal’s confidence must have flown out the door with Beena and the box, because she turned desperate eyes on Sheetal and mouthed, Do something!
Well, Sheetal figured, they had nothing to lose at this point. So she dropped the bombshell. “Someone hid Priyanka’s puppets under my bed. I just found them.”
“That certainly is a terrible thing to hear,” Padmini said stiffly.
“What’s with the freeze-out?” Sheetal asked sharply, fed up with her ice queen act. “Last night, you were giving us keys, and today you don’t know our names?”
Padmini finally looked her way. Her lush mouth was set, her otherworldly eyes impenetrable. “That was not the only thing to happen last night.” Indignity burned acidic in her words. “The Esteemed Patriarch approached me with the kindly reminder that all eyes are upon us. My obligation is to our house first and foremost, and I must take care not to fraternize too closely with any one mortal.”
Sheetal heard the implication: Or else. Oh, no. Had Nana really threatened Kaushal?
“I don’t understand,” Minal said. “I left the keys where you told me. Did someone else find them?”
“No, it’s your brother, isn’t it?” The words came out louder than Sheetal had meant. “Is he okay?”
Padmini made an irritated sound. “No, Lady Sheetal, he is not. Seeing you, listening to you, has roused his mortal memories.” Her voice feathered off into a whisper. “I had believed him to be past all that.”
Alarm bells went off in Sheetal’s brain. “Past what?”
Padmini held herself rigidly, as if she would break otherwise. “Kaushal is speaking of permanently returning to the mortal realm.”
What else could possibly go wrong? “I didn’t— He’s just confused.”
“That may be,” Padmini allowed. “Yet I cannot risk it. Should anyone learn of his daydreaming . . .”
“Padmini,” Minal pleaded, reaching for her, “you can’t think we’d ever let him do that. We’ll stay away from him after, I swear.” Her eyes glistened and her voice wobbled as Padmini pulled away, a chilly elegance in each step. “Please just help us get the marionettes back into Priyanka’s room.”
“I know we’re asking a lot,” Sheetal added, “but please just help us this one last time.” She kept talking, as if that would make a difference. “I’m shocked no one’s come barging in to ‘prove’ they’re here.”
“I am sorry, Lady Sheetal, but my brother is too dear to me.” Padmini opened the door. “I cannot endanger his fate for anyone. I will not.”
Then she was gone.
25
Sheetal stood outside the Hall of Mirrors, praying this was the right decision. She only had a few minutes while Minal distracted Beena with questions about their outfits for tonight.
Her stomach churned. If Padmini found out what Sheetal was up to, she’d never forgive either of them, any more than Sheetal would forgive someone putting Minal in danger.
Why did Nani and Nana have to make things like this? There was nothing wrong with being half human.
She consoled herself with the thought that she was working toward a future where Nani couldn’t blackmail half-stars anymore, because that stupid stigma just wouldn’t exist. Annihilated as part of her mother’s grand plans.
Before the convocation, Nani had said something about contacting Nana through the astral melody. Sheetal searched for Kaushal’s thread in the tapestry and gave it a good tug. Not uprooting it, like when she removed her own emotions, but just catching his attention. Hopefully that would work, and if not, well, at least it would give her a moment to check on Dad.
She floundered through the process two more times, then entered the hall to wait.
All the mirrors reflected a girl with soft, shimmering, flashing silver hair that fell to her waist, with unblemished brown skin so smooth it looked airbrushed, as if someone had taken a palette knife to it as she slept and smoothed away all the pores. Wait—had her eyes become larger? Yep, and they’d turned brown-silver, glimmering with the suggestion of a pewter flame.
Padmini had been right; this face didn’t need any extra enhancements.
Sheetal glanced down. Her ragged fingernails had grown into perfect ovals, and even the scab on her right thumb was nearly gone.
Something nettled her—the suspicion she’d tried to bury ever since the starsong first beckoned at Radhikafoi’s party. Ever since the dye had leached from her hair. Something huge, something that flooded h
er with horror and relief at the same time.
She was stellifying, catasterizing, just like the harp sisters had predicted.
For once, her mind was empty.
She stared at herself, at this stranger she’d become, until she couldn’t take it.
Dad, she thought, wishing she could reach out with her arms, not just her heart. Dad.
The mirror closest to her erased her image, replacing it with the now horribly familiar one of Dad comatose in the ICU bed. A nurse checked his vitals and recorded the results before leaving him all alone. But it was the most beautiful birthday gift Sheetal could’ve asked for.
Dad, she said to him, inhaling the imaginary aroma of homemade waffles, listening to the whispers of the biographies he’d given her, dreaming of past museum dates. I don’t know what to do. This isn’t fair, and you’re not here, and even if I can save you, what if nothing’s ever the same again?
The hardest question hissed in the tingling of her hands, in the flame burning around her. What if I can’t go back to you?
She could hear his heart’s steady rhythm, and while it offered no answers, she clung to the sound, pressing her hand to the glass as if she could press right through to him.
The sidereal song shifted then, and Sheetal knew before she turned that her mother stood there, along with Kaushal. She pulled her hand back.
Well, she couldn’t be totally star yet—not if she still left smudged, oily fingerprints behind. Somehow that only made everything even worse.
“I’m changing, aren’t I.” She whirled on her mother. “You knew, and you didn’t say anything. That’s why you wanted me here for my birthday.”
Only then did she realize she was shivering, like the warning signal before a volcano erupted. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me!”
Charumati and Kaushal watched her, saying nothing. She felt their pity in the starsong, saw it in their unearthly eyes. The eyes she now shared.
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