Star Daughter

by Shveta Thakrar

  For Dad, Sheetal thought. And for me.

  If she didn’t stand up now, she’d always be trailing after people who thought they knew better than she did about all things, whether it was Radhikafoi or Nani or even her mother. Cowering in their shadows instead of shining her own light.

  “Do it, Sheetu,” Minal whispered. “Whatever you’re going to do.”

  Dev watched her with trust in his eyes. “Ready when you are, star girl,” he whispered.

  Sheetal reached deep inside herself for the feeling that had come with overturning the jar of stardust, the feeling of inspiring another person, as well as the memory of actually being inspired. Her heart flashed to life, illuminated as it pumped the starry song through her veins. Her palms and the soles of her feet prickled.

  Would this work? Her core sputtered with doubt. Maybe Nani was right, and she was too young.

  No. She’d earned this.

  While her flame bathed her body in a wash of power to rival Lord Surya himself, Sheetal threw her inspiration at Dev as hard as she could.

  The energy passed into Dev and disappeared. But instead of feeling depleted, Sheetal felt even more alive.

  Yes.

  For a second, Dev looked like he’d been shocked. Then he smiled.

  And then he began to sing.

  The last line of the song floated through the room, so bright and mournful and resonant that for a long moment, no one moved.

  Sheetal’s heart was done for. Dev had basically ripped it out of her chest and ground it to pulp. That song, that confession, had to have been the best thing he had ever done, his masterpiece, drawing on everything he’d gone through over the past week and making the choice to hide nothing and instead offer it all up as a gift: from the day he met her to nearly losing her to where they stood now, every word wrapped in love.

  And she had inspired that.

  She shivered. The lyrics, the utter power of his voice, reverberated even now through the court, imprinting themselves on the most resistant of House Pushya’s detractors.

  But what would the judges say? They could be biased or just plain have bad taste.

  And the other nakshatras, the ones the starry judges belonged to, had no reason to love House Pushya.

  Dev’s final notes, rife with sorrow, with hope, faded until only a hush remained. Glancing around, Sheetal glimpsed tears sparkling on more faces than she could count. At least she wasn’t the only one crying.

  Charumati and Nana looked troubled, but Nani sat with a stone face. The astral melody betrayed nothing of her actual state of mind as Dev stumbled down the platform and headed toward House Pushya’s tent.

  Oh, Nani. Come on. I know that moved you. I know it.

  Looking dazed, Dev took the extra seat Beena had placed next to Sheetal’s. “How was it?” he whispered, his beautiful eyes lit from within.

  “You . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  The judges had retreated behind their curtain of invisibility to deliberate. Sheetal started gnawing on her cuticle before catching herself. So becoming a full star hadn’t changed everything.

  If they didn’t win, she reminded herself, she’d done her best. They both had. She found Dev’s hand with her own, not minding at all when he squeezed back too hard.

  A few minutes later, the judges reemerged, led by the mortal man. “We have reached our decision.”

  Hanging on to Dev’s hand, Sheetal tuned everything out but the judge’s words. “Each performance was a piece of art,” he droned. “I wasn’t even sure we’d be able to pick a winner. All of you should be proud.”

  Ugh, she thought, get on with it.

  “But alas, a choice had to be made, and I’m glad as can be to announce the winner of this competition: Dev Merai, with his song from the heart!”

  Applause thundered through the court, laced with shouts of gratification and grumbles of disappointment. Sheetal could have screamed. He’d done it, he’d done it, he’d done it! He’d won!

  Dev looked flabbergasted. In front of everyone, he pulled Sheetal out of her seat and spun her around. “I don’t believe it!”

  “I do.” Grinning, Sheetal returned the spin. Minal grabbed her in a bear hug, while Padmini and Beena formed an impromptu dancing circle around them. A few of the younger stars from House Pushya, including Kaushal, rushed down from the stands and joined in.

  The former ruling matriarch gave one sharp clap, silencing the court. “Many congratulations to House Pushya on its victory this day. House Pushya will succeed House Dhanishta as next to rule over our court.”

  Even Nani had to be happy about that.

  Along with the rest of her house and her friends, Sheetal cheered. Her skin exuded silver flame, her hair shimmered and flashed, and her mind whirled. There was so much to do, so much to think through. First, of course, she had to get home and save Dad. Nothing was going to stop her from doing that. And now, she realized, her breath catching, she didn’t even need anyone else’s blood to do it.

  Nani wouldn’t close the gates, then. If she tried, she’d be trapping Sheetal on Earth, leaving her to burn out like Ojasvini had.

  “And now,” declared the former ruling patriarch, “it is time to present the winner with his well-deserved prize. Mortal Dev Merai, please approach the dais.”

  Only too late, far too late, her stomach falling ten stories, did Sheetal remember the prize for winning the competition had to go to someone. The prize Dev had never wanted.

  And from the horrified look on Dev’s face, he did, too.

  Nani and Nana held a whole conversation in a glance, and when Sheetal checked the starsong, they’d bricked their feelings away behind a harmonious front. Whatever Nani thought about her plans being usurped and her secret revealed, she would never dream of letting it travel outside their immediate family. Let rumors spread as rumors would; she wouldn’t bother to address them.

  No, she would take her revenge in subtler ways. Sheetal’s euphoria curdled like expired milk.

  “How fortunate our desires align.” Nani moved toward Dev like a panther coiled to spring. “Certainly the Pushya nakshatra can do no less than honor our champion and his victory by presenting him with his award.”

  “I don’t need any award,” he said hastily. “Give it to Priyanka. Or better yet, keep it. I was just filling in. Like a substitute teacher. No one rewards substitute teachers.”

  “No,” said Nani, silky as a snake’s hiss, “I insist. You won the competition, and we would be remiss as hosts to deny you that.”

  “Mom?” Sheetal tried.

  Her mother merely gave her a frail smile. “The Esteemed Matriarch is correct. It is stated in the bylaws: the prize must be awarded to the winner.”

  Nani’s next words came as a whisper only those closest to her could hear. “Make no mistake; the mortal boy will get what he has earned—eternal renown. What you, my dikri, have helped him earn.”

  “Nani, please,” Sheetal begged. “Please don’t do this to him.”

  Nani only laughed. When she spoke, her voice was as imperious as Sheetal had ever heard it. “You are young, Sheetal. So very young. You do not yet know what you do not know. If you must purge this youthful rebellion from your system and wander the mortal world for now, I can wait. Heal your papa. Enjoy your time with him. I have had many eons in which to learn patience.”

  Nana and she linked arms with a shell-shocked Dev. “But do not forget that what is a lifetime to a mortal is but a blink of an eye to a star, and as you mature, you will find battles are not won in a single day.”

  Then they escorted him to the stage to receive his prize.

  Charumati settled in beside Sheetal. “Seizing power is one thing, and holding it is quite another,” she said. “It is like trying to grasp water or sand; eventually it spills through the cracks and into the hands of those keen to catch it.”

  Her starry diadem sitting heavy on her head, Sheetal wondered if now might be a good time to find out just how long she
could stay sober on frostberry wine.

  Part Three

  Be humble, for you are made of earth.

  Be noble, for you are made of stars.

  —UNKNOWN

  My mother’s speech was both bright and dark, twinkling in and out of reach. She wore diamonds in her hair like war wounds. I saw the flame that burned within her, hungry and silhouetted with the shapes of secrets.

  I saw how those shapes separated my mother from her mother, how they forged gulfs and filled them with poisonous waters. I saw how those same waters threatened to submerge us all.

  I lay back in the grass and spread my arms, digging my fingers into the soil to remember myself. Then I took to the skies and burned to transform. But still my heart, with its human memories rooted deep inside, remained mine to rule.

  And in keeping it so, in guarding it well, I learned how to make that flame my own.

  —FROM SHEETAL’S JOURNAL

  33

  Charumati and Radhikafoi stood at either side of the hospital bed, watching Sheetal. Only the occasional beeping of the machines broke the silence as Dad slept on. It was all up to her now.

  Sheetal lowered the collar of his hospital gown, then reached for the sterilized safety pin in her pocket.

  She could already feel the difference, and she hadn’t even stabbed herself yet.

  Her blood hadn’t been enough before, but she’d quested for Dad’s sake, competed for him, even sacrificed for him, and along the way, she’d made it enough.

  She pricked the meat of her thumb and gasped at the rush of pain. A drop of blood appeared, pure silver without a single spot of scarlet.

  Sheetal let the drop fall. It landed on Dad’s chest, flooding the sterile room with silver starlight that diffused over his skin.

  And Dad flared bright, beautiful, with a star’s flame. Sheetal’s core mirrored him, singing a story of healing. For an instant, the glow was so potent, she couldn’t see anything else.

  Behind her, Radhikafoi cried out. “What happened? Is he all right?”

  The radiance dimmed.

  Two heartbeats passed, then three.

  Alarms blared as Dad sat up, his face ten years younger. He looked healthy and strong enough to run a marathon. Best of all, he looked like Dad again. “What did I miss?”

  Sheetal hugged him hard, and he returned it just as firmly. He felt so real, so human, with all the sweat and troubles and joys that mortality brought with it. Her throat dammed up as she listened to his pulse, counting the beats and assuring herself it wasn’t fading before letting go.

  Radhikafoi instantly grabbed his hand and pressed it to her heart. “You did it, beta,” she said. “You really did it.”

  Then Dad caught sight of Charumati, whose eyes were wide with wonder and wet with tears. A spectrum of emotions played out in his expression, from incredulity to sadness to hope, as she tugged off the scarf tied over her head. Her hair tumbled down, sparkling and shimmering like the starshine it was. “My Gautam, my jeevansaathi,” she murmured, her words like song. “You waited for me.”

  “And I’d do it again,” he said. “You haven’t aged a day, my Charu jaan, not like me.”

  She laughed, and Sheetal wondered how even a single human had ever heard it and taken her for anything but magic. “Nonsense, you are just as dashing as the day we met. Perhaps more so.”

  Both Sheetal and Radhikafoi reluctantly stepped aside as Charumati glided toward the head of the bed. “We have much to talk about, my love,” she said, soft as a secret. Dad nodded and took her delicate hands in his own.

  Sheetal followed Radhikafoi out and shut the door behind them.

  “I’m proud of you, beta,” her auntie said abruptly. “I should have told you about the letter sooner.”

  “Uh, thanks.” Sheetal felt all shy and embarrassed. They didn’t talk like this. Not ever. It was awkward, but nice, too.

  “Don’t think this means you’re not still enrolled in the PSAT course. I arranged for you to make up the days you missed.” There was something strange about the way Radhikafoi was staring at her, almost like she expected Sheetal to argue and storm off.

  Like she was worried Sheetal didn’t need her anymore.

  The class sounded even less appealing after three days surrounded by the stars. But sometimes love came in the weirdest packages. Sheetal hid her smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Oh. Well, good.” Radhikafoi rummaged in her enormous purse until she found a candy bar, then thrust it at Sheetal. “Here, have a snack. You’ll need your energy to help me keep them out so your mummy and papa can talk.”

  Sure enough, an army of doctors and nurses was descending on Dad’s room. Sheetal nodded at Radhikafoi, then chomped down on the candy bar and steeled herself to guard the door.

  Tomorrow there would be chores to do and biographies to read, fathers to make dinner with, aunties to surprise with celestial golden sofas. For now, though, Sheetal was back in the Night Market with Minal, who’d wasted no time claiming her magical shopping spree. So far, she’d found a dress made of wildflowers and a tablecloth that whipped up complicated pastries on command.

  Sheetal sang a single note, high and clear. In response, Padmini appeared, bearing a silver-stringed black crystal harp.

  Vanita and Amrita rushed to pet the harp and test its strings. When they knocked on the body, the crystal rang out with the sound of wind on a frosty evening. “Yessssss,” hissed Vanita, her long curtain of white hair stark against the golden green of her eyes. “You have learned to hear with your dead mortal ears.”

  “Play a song with us, one of laughter and starry tears,” added Amrita, her teeth flashing, her black hair blending in with the harp. She pushed a chair toward Sheetal.

  Darkness in light; light in darkness.

  Sheetal sat down on the chair and rested the crystal harp against her thigh. She glanced up at the sky, where her family twinkled among so many other stars, all watching her. All singing, all lending her their magic. Padmini smiled at her, twinkling, too, and nestled closer to Minal.

  Sheetal’s fingers pranced and pirouetted over the strings, and her voice poured forth, telling the story of the girl who, though technically full star, was still half mortal at heart and would have it no other way. The harp sisters joined in, their notes weaving together with hers in a web that, for the span of a song, fell over the entire Market and held it captive.

  When they drew to a close, the spice trader nodded. “Like the heavens themselves were singing.” Others murmured their assent.

  “Star girl!” called a familiar voice. Every hair on Sheetal’s arms and the back of her neck stood as straight as the guards at the gates to Svargalok.

  He’d heard her sing at last.

  Her whole body tensed. He couldn’t have hated it, but what if he did? Or what if it just didn’t live up to what he’d expected?

  Dev sauntered out of the shadows, one hand tucked behind his back. She couldn’t tell from his face what he thought. “There was a long line.”

  “Ooh,” called Amrita. “A tall, dark, mysterious stranger!”

  Vanita offered a lascivious wink. “Just in time to save you from danger?”

  “Nah, I can save myself just fine,” Sheetal tossed back. Hoping she sounded casual, she tapped her foot and asked Dev, “So did you find me non-horror-movie ice cream or not?”

  Dev revealed a dripping version of one of the foot-high cones Sheetal had seen on her first visit to the Night Market. “Starry macaron sundae sounded harmless enough. Not to mention appropriate.”

  He offered her the cone with its tower of swirling silver-blue-and-purple scoops.

  She took a giant lick. Why wasn’t he saying anything about the song?

  The harp sisters watched with glee. “Tell us this story! In all its glory!” they sang.

  Dev nodded at them. “Nice to meet you, uh . . .”

  “Amrita and Vanita,” Sheetal said around a mouthful of the richest, most satisfying ice cream she
’d ever had. It tasted like wonder mixed with wine, if wine were the night sky distilled into a thick syrup.

  “So?” asked Minal. “Did you hear her sing?” Next to her, Padmini covered her laugh with her hand.

  Sheetal glared. “Minu! Come on.”

  “Well, did you? We’re all dying to know.”

  Dev’s face went soft as he looked at Sheetal. “I’ve never heard anything like that. It’s like . . . you’re a star. That’s the only word for it. Like listening to the sky.”

  She smiled. She was pretty sure it was the dorkiest smile ever.

  “Awwww, he likes it!” Minal heckled, and the moment was broken. “So sweet.”

  “Thanks again for the ice cream,” Sheetal hurried to say before anyone else could chime in. “It’s really good.”

  “The guy at the booth recognized me and said I didn’t have to pay.” Dev didn’t sound pleased about that. Ever since they’d gotten home, the recordings online of him singing had gone viral, and it showed no sign of stopping. Talent agents were calling and e-mailing, fans were flooding his inboxes on social media, and people on the street were calling out to him for autographs.

  He’d even tried putting up a garbage song to scare people away—deliberately off, hoarse, and scratchy, with terrible lyrics. It didn’t matter; they only clamored for more.

  Sheetal winced in sympathy. Dev was going to be seen whether he wanted to be or not. And as his girlfriend, so would she. Maybe the secret of the stars would be out again before long, no matter what Nani had to say about it.

  At least then she wouldn’t have to wear this stupid wig. Even here in the Night Market, she hadn’t found anything to disguise her hair.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said for what seemed the billionth time.

  Dev didn’t answer. She couldn’t blame him if he was still mad. At least he hadn’t dumped her.

  Padmini broke the silence. “So all of you are familiar with Orion’s Belt?”

  Sheetal nodded. “Yeah, why?”

  “It is a waist of space.” Sheetal stared at her. Padmini grinned. “When Dev was teaching me mortal names for our constellations, he insisted I learn this particular jest and use it to aggravate everyone I encounter.”