Minal squirmed. “Uh, Dev, this isn’t what we—”
Jeet’s snarl made Sheetal take a step back. She took another one when his skin flashed bright as mercury. This time there was no doubt about it: the light was no trick of her eye, no reflection. It was him. Glowing.
“You’re all the same, just messing with us.” His voice was as dark as a dead star. “I deserve to be here. I worked hard. I did everything she asked. And now I have to give up my turn? Like hell I will.”
Dev laid a hand on his shoulder. “Jeet, man, calm down—”
Jeet shrugged it off. “Don’t touch me!” He closed in on Sheetal. “You think your family likes you? Maybe you should ask your grandmother what she really thinks of half-stars.”
“That’s enough,” Dev said, stepping between them. “If you’re mad at Rati, fine, but you need to stop.”
“You know what? Why don’t you just stay out here if you know so much.” Jeet slunk back into their room and slammed the door so hard the wall rattled.
Minal stared after him. “That was intense.”
Sheetal wanted to agree, but it felt like Jeet had sucked all the air out of the hallway.
“That’s one word for it,” Dev said. Their gazes found each other, and a shock of recognition passed between them, soft and still as starlight. “Listen, can I talk to you? Just you?”
Before she could open her mouth, Minal had pushed her toward him. “Yes, you can talk to her. Just her,” Minal said, smiling victoriously as she patted the sconce. “Now you know why I couldn’t leave my friend here.”
“I guess that’s a yes?” Sheetal said, glaring. They would have to have a chat later about letting people decide for themselves if they wanted to talk to ex-boyfriends.
Dev took her in like he was seeing her for the first time, really noticing her, and she saw her flame mirrored in his dark eyes. “Good.”
Suddenly she couldn’t remember why she was mad at Minal. Or at him.
“Happy birthday, Sheetu!” Minal sang out before disappearing inside their room.
Sheetal was worried about Jeet, worried about Charumati, worried about Dad and the competition and the drop of blood. But in that moment, with her heart swelling at that soulful look, all those things receded into the background like shadows before the sun.
She crossed her arms tight. The thing was, a single glance, no matter how many shivers it sent through her, couldn’t make up for the fact that he’d only tried to get close to her so he could help Jeet. “You arranged this?” she asked coolly.
He nodded, biting his lip.
“Because you want to talk?”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
There was a universe of possibility in that one word. It would be so easy to just grab him and pull him to her. Her heart screamed at her to do exactly that. To tell him none of it mattered.
But it did. Sheetal turned away and started walking. “Come on, then.”
Dev loped up beside her a couple of seconds later, and they wandered along the marble hallway until Sheetal found a vacant sitting room with a velvet love seat.
Ironic. A couch would have been better, but this would have to do.
She sat down next to Dev, way too aware of just how near he was. Her eyes wouldn’t stop tracing the defined line of his cheekbones, the flicker of his long lashes, the way his strong nose dipped at the tip. Her body wouldn’t stop urging her to close the distance between them already.
Her breath came in flutters. “So talk,” she managed to say.
Dev gazed straight ahead. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I really am.”
“Me, too.”
“Rati’s been on his case from the start, but when I found out he was drinking that blood . . .” Dev shook his head. “What is happening? How is that a sentence I just said?”
Sheetal pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t interrupt. Or, as a treacherous part of her suggested, try to kiss him.
He sighed. “I thought if he won this, it would be good for him. He’d see he had something special, too. We always looked out for each other. And now . . .” Dev shook his head again, and a lock of hair fell over his eye. “Just—how does he not know how stupid that is?”
Sheetal nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
“Look, I’m sorry I let him convince me to get to know you.” He broke off. “No. I’m glad about that. I am sorry I didn’t tell you that I knew what you are. And I’m really sorry about last night.” He finally turned to face Sheetal, and the despair she saw there rocked her. “I’m not sorry, though, that I met you. I just—I just wish it could have been without all this.”
She tried to imagine Minal so desperate she’d willingly drink someone’s blood to get what she wanted, while Sheetal herself could do nothing but watch it happen. It made her furious. It made her understand Dev’s position more than she wanted to admit.
A rift appeared in her meticulously honed icy resistance, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she laid her hand on his.
Dev gripped it like a lifeline, lacing their fingers together. “Don’t listen to what he said, okay?” he pleaded. “I swear he wasn’t like this before. If only I could get him to quit.” His voice wavered. “And—and what if that’s it? What if he can’t come back from this?”
A lump burned in her throat. That was the question for all of them.
“Gods, I wish Rati had never found him. I know she gave him that blood.”
Rati. Dev didn’t know about her offer. Sheetal quickly brought him up to speed. “The worst part is, I don’t think she actually cares about House Revati winning. Rati just wants to see my nakshatra go down.”
He whistled. “This place is a trip.”
For a few minutes, no one said anything.
Dev tentatively twined a strand of her shimmering hair around his finger. The flutters migrated to Sheetal’s stomach, a whisper of light green luna moths, and her heart matched them wingbeat for wingbeat. “When Jeet told me about you,” he said, “you weren’t real. He was. It had always been him and me, you know? It was easy to say sure, I’d see if there was anything to tell him.”
Even now, it stung to hear him admit it. She had to make herself keep listening.
“Then I actually met you, and there was no way I was going to wreck that.” He uncurled the strand of hair. “I told him I changed my mind.”
“But you let me inspire you,” she reminded him, shaky. There it was, the doubt loitering like a thundercloud between them. The biggest reason she’d fled his house that day.
Dev tweaked her nose. “Star girl, the whole reason I wanted to start writing songs again was so I could write them for you.” His smile was amused and embarrassed at the same time. “I mean, yeah, it was great to be composing again. I thought I was blocked for good. But I don’t care about that—not enough to mess this up.”
“Not even the teensiest bit? I don’t believe you.”
“You got me. I liked being inspired. I really, really liked it.” Awe spread over his face, illuminating his eyes. “It was this rush of being able to make anything.”
Anything.
Sheetal dropped his hand and willed herself to disappear into the floor’s intricate patterns. Of course he liked it. Who wouldn’t?
Dev tipped her chin back up. “But after seeing Jeet, I don’t ever want that again.”
She focused on her breathing, which had gotten shallow and tight. “You don’t?”
“No.” This time his smile was sure. “I just want you.”
The last of the rime in her chest dissolved. I just want you, too. Still she waited. “Why not, though?”
Dev’s expression turned thoughtful. “It’s funny; everyone thinks you make art to get rich and famous and have your legacy, but is that really such a good thing?”
“Well, everyone wants to be seen, don’t they?” The sidereal song rang out around her, all chimes and bell tones, reminding her just how seen she was here.
“But all th
e time? And it’s not like they know you. They’re making up who they think you are. Celebrity worship.”
Sheetal shrugged. She hadn’t had a chance to think about it, but if she won the competition, her name would be on every mortal’s lips for the rest of history. Did she want that?
Did anyone, really?
“Nobody should have a prize this huge, but if it has to be someone here, I’d go with Priyanka. At least she could do some good with it,” Dev said.
“Priyanka? After how she treated me? Yeah, right.”
“Well, she’s here by herself, and you’ve got an entire family backing you, not to mention your best friend. Jeet’s got me—or at least, he did.” Dev sounded rueful. “Imagine how you’d feel if you were all alone. You might say some stupid stuff, too.”
Sheetal finally believed him. He didn’t want this.
Gentle as a whisper, she reached up to tuck the stray lock behind his ear. He shuddered as her knuckles brushed his skin. “You don’t have to be so logical all the time,” she teased.
Savoring the solid feel of him, she relaxed against his side. Dev, however, held her delicately, like she might flee if he even wiggled a toe.
After a minute had gone by, he spoke. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Where does a pixie sleep in the enchanted forest?”
“No.” Sheetal groaned. “Oh, no. Don’t do it.”
Dev grinned grotesquely, wide and openmouthed like a clown. “On her Sealy queen mattress, of course!”
Treating him to her best withering glare, she let light rise out of her skin. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He laughed. “Never.”
She pressed her ear against his chest, listening to his heart. She would have to get going soon, of course, but for now, this was the only music she cared about.
“So I hear it’s your birthday,” Dev said. “What if I told you I have a present for you?”
Sheetal leaned back to look at him. Gods, he was beautiful, with that lopsided grin and that little dimple next to it. “I would get super excited but then really sad when I figured out you don’t have anything with you.”
“How do you know? Kurtas have pockets.”
She held out her hands. “Show me, then.”
“The pockets or the present?”
She didn’t bother to dignify that with a reply.
Dev smiled, then glanced away. He wiped his palms on his kurta.
He’s nervous! She clamped down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling herself.
Then he opened his mouth, and she forgot the competition, Dad, everything.
The song was new, but she recognized the story it told: a human king, Pururavas, fell in love with Urvashi, an apsara from the heavenly realm, and then had to let her go.
But the way Dev sang it, there was no difference between the characters and the people who sat here now. Just an unquenchable yearning for a beauty, a love, that could never be satisfied again. Everything would be duller, more monotonous, for the rest of the poor king’s days, while the apsara would continue on and on like the immortal she was.
My heart was a desert
You moved through like rain
Even the soil had to smile
It sprouted a garden
I wrote your name in roses
My heart was a desert
You moved through like rain
But all clouds drift away
You left me to my drought
Now only my tears water the earth
For a moment, it was Sheetal flying away from Dev forever, Sheetal returning to her true abode in the heavenly realm.
The song trailed off, officially leaving her a mess of half-melted goo. “That was for me?”
Dev was clearly trying not to laugh. “Well, yeah, unless there’s another star girl with a birthday today.”
“That was— I don’t even— Wow.” She didn’t know whether to finish melting first or just pounce.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You liked it? I mean, that’s not my usual thing, but I know how you much love those old myths. . . .”
“Are you kidding?” Sheetal threw herself at him. How did he always smell so good? “I loved it! Best birthday present ever.” She kissed her way from his cheek to his ear. “I’d better hope none of the other champions are that good, or I’m in big trouble.”
Okay, she told herself, enough talking. And she kissed his jaw.
Dev’s voice had gone down an octave. “Nah. It’ll never happen.” His eyes darkened even more as he pulled her onto his lap and brought his mouth to hers. “Happy birthday, star girl.”
27
A throng of ladies-in-waiting, led by Beena, fell upon Sheetal like a murder of keen-eyed crows, making her nerves feel like someone had sandpapered them. Her room had never been so crowded or so busy, and she couldn’t escape. Under Nani’s direction, the attendants bathed her, oiled her skin, and brushed out her locks.
Poor Minal only had one lady-in-waiting attending to her—Padmini, who must not have been able to give up attendant duty completely. They were the only two silent people in all the room, their smiles brittle.
Meanwhile, Nani hovered over Sheetal, directing the others to drape here, pin there. Too bad she couldn’t command away Sheetal’s nerves about the competition.
Tomorrow. Tonight she would compete, and tomorrow she would have the drop of blood and go home to heal Dad. Tomorrow everything would be better. She just had to keep telling herself that.
She reached for her scab, picking at it, almost ripping it off. Oh, gods, she’d never performed before anyone except her parents and Minal. Never, ever. Now she had to go in front of the entire starry court and be judged? How could these two days of training ever be enough?
And where was Charumati? Her mother should be there with her.
Following Nani’s instructions, the ladies-in-waiting swathed Sheetal in a confection of sheer black speckled with little diamonds and bordered with silver ribbon. She recognized it from the night she’d arrived; her mother had worn this same fabric. “This is shadowsilk,” Nani explained, “a textile reserved exclusively for the royal houses. You will be a dream when you play your instrument tonight.”
“Great,” said Sheetal. There was a fine line between excitement and panic. So far, she was still on the right side of it.
But she might go up onstage, in front of everybody, and blow the whole thing. Just fall flat on her face.
Her grandmother produced an enameled jewel box crammed with silver and platinum necklaces, earrings, armbands, bracelets, rings, and toe rings, most studded with diamonds, sapphires, or black onyx. “Our family’s treasury,” she pronounced, “and today I will pass your first precious heirloom down to you.”
She touched Sheetal’s forehead in blessing and selected a platinum meenakari choker with all three stones and matching jhumka earrings. “This was my favorite set when I was your age, and now it is yours.”
It was like wearing the night sky, if the sky were gems and sparkle and all the incandescent promise of the myriad constellations. Sheetal didn’t know what to say. “Wow,” she got out at last, “thank you so much, Nani!”
Nani brushed it off. “What is there to thank anyone for? You are a child of our house. Who else would wear these?” But her mouth turned up in a pleased half smile.
The wash of affection that rolled over Sheetal calmed her fears. She returned Nani’s smile.
Nani stepped away to confer with Padmini as the two sorted through the rest of the jewelry. Minal hurried over, looking incredible in black-and-silver chaniya choli with a filmy blue dupatta. “Those are stunning,” she whispered. “But where’s your mom?”
“I wish I knew,” Sheetal whispered back.
Then they had to stop talking as a new crop of ladies-in-waiting surrounded them in a whirl of cosmetic tools and creams and cases. “Such beauties!” one exclaimed. “What an honor it is, to be chosen by the Esteemed Matriarch to help prepare you f
or such a momentous evening.”
Another dabbed the contents of a small silver pot on Sheetal’s skin with a brush. “A touch of this pearl powder here, some brightening shell there, and your natural luster will claim the room.”
At least Sheetal hadn’t totally finished turning into a star. That was something.
She pulled back from the brush’s itchy bristles, earning a mild reproach, while Minal compared various jars. “What’s in these?”
Charumati appeared in the doorway, a serene expression on her face and a cobalt glass box in her hands. “Pardon my tardiness. It took me longer than I wished to lure these friends to me.”
A knot in Sheetal’s chest gave way to relief. Her mom had already missed so many important occasions, the thought of her not being here for this one chafed.
“There you are.” Nani’s nostrils flared. “I already presented Sheetal with her first meenakari set.”
“My apologies, Mother. I would like to have seen that.” Charumati unlatched her box, and crystalline butterflies fluttered into the room, their wings clear and multifaceted as diamonds. Padmini coaxed them toward Sheetal with soft movements, guiding them until they roosted among the jewels in Sheetal’s hair. Their tiny feet tickled.
“Where did these come from?” she asked, overcome.
“The conservatory. There is plenty yet to show you in our palace.” Charumati wound wristlets of black jasmine blossoms around Sheetal’s forearms, and their silver vines spiraled over her skin. Inhaling their seductive perfume, Sheetal shivered.
“You are truly one of us,” Charumati said, her eyes misting over. “Seventeen. The age of majority.”
The astral melody lilted through the air, through Sheetal’s blood, laden with so much emotion: wonder, delight, and even a glimpse of worry before it vanished. One of us.
This should have been a beautiful moment, something out of a story. Long-lost daughter reunited with her family and honored with a ball. But she couldn’t relax. She was already changing; what if she didn’t want to go home after that?
What if she couldn’t?
Beena led her over to a huge mirror whose black frame was carved with intricate images of the various nakshatras. “You are a princess!”
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