A War of Swallowed Stars

by Sangu Mandanna

  “Grandmother, why are you here?” I demand. “Max says you left Kali weeks ago! When are you coming back?”

  Instead of answering me, she pushes open an old, creaky wooden door, leading me into a small, spare room. It’s warm and well lit, but there’s not much in it: a window, a narrow bed, a table and two chairs, a chest of clothes, a few books. A pot of steaming tea and three cups sit on the table, waiting.

  Three cups. She must have intended for Alex to be here, too.

  Tossing her cane into a corner of the room, Grandmother sits in one of the chairs, her back perfectly straight. I sit opposite her, looking around with a frown.

  “You were nobility before you married into the royal family,” I say. “Have you ever stayed in a room like this before?”

  “New experiences are always interesting,” she replies, pouring the tea. “Drink.”

  I pick my cup up, but I don’t drink. “You didn’t tell me when you’re coming home.”

  “Because I am not coming home.”

  I almost drop my cup. “You’re never coming back?” I ask, stunned. “You’re going to stay here for the rest of your life?”

  “I am very old,” she points out. “I doubt I shall be here long.”

  “I suppose we can visit. It’s not a very long journey.”

  “No, Ez-may.” The old queen sighs, still putting that ridiculous emphasis on my name because she disapproves of it. “This is the last time you will see me. I will see no visitors after tonight.”

  I stare at her, too shocked to reply. Like most of my family, my feelings about my great-grandmother are conflicted, at best, but I am fond of her. Finding out this is the last time I’ll ever see her is a surprisingly painful thing. Maybe it’s because this is coming hard on the heels of losing Bear, but it feels like too much is slipping away from me.

  “I don’t understand,” I finally manage to say as she watches me over the rim of her teacup. “Why?”

  “I have done a great deal of harm,” she says unflinchingly. “You, of all people, should know that. When I cursed your mother, and inadvertently cursed you as well, I set in motion a tragedy that could have been avoided entirely if I had chosen to keep my mouth shut. Kyra was reckless and foolish, but she didn’t mean to kill Vanya. It was a careless, stupid accident. I knew that, yet I lost my temper anyway.”

  “But that happened years ago,” I protest. “Why come here now?”

  For a moment, she says nothing. Hands clutched around her teacup, as if for warmth, she turns her face to the window and takes a few unsteady breaths. With a pang, I notice that for the very first time in all the time I’ve known her, she looks old, tired and, above all, fragile.

  “I was an aristocrat’s daughter, and betrothed to the future king of Kali,” she says at last. “Lavya was a servant’s daughter. I was not very kind to her. I couldn’t bear the idea of a servant’s child possessing more talent than I did. So I asked Rickard to train me harder than anyone else, to teach me things he didn’t teach any of the others, to make me his best student. He was young and ambitious then. He knew that his best chance at rising up in the world and serving Kali was to find favor with the royal family, so he made me that rash promise.”

  She seems to have lost the thread of the conversation, but I go along with it. “That’s why he made Lavya cut off her own thumb.”

  “He never forgave himself for that,” she says. “It is remarkable, is it not? How much damage a few rash words can do?”

  I don’t reply. What can I say?

  Blinking, Grandmother turns her face back to me. “I could not bear it anymore,” she says. I can tell she’s not talking about Rickard anymore. “The damage was too great. I could not bear to watch the consequences of my curse unfold any longer. Call it cowardice, or weakness, but I could not take it. I left.”

  Suddenly, I understand. “You left after Arcadia. That was the point when you decided it was too much.”

  “This war is my doing.”

  “That’s not true,” I object. “It started when Elvar took the crown from Alexi. You had nothing to do with that.”

  “It started because Cassel died,” she says, brushing my objection away. “If Cassel had lived, none of this would have happened. And Cassel died because he wanted his daughter back. He would not have died if I hadn’t cursed your mother. This war is my doing.”

  “Wait,” I say, inhaling sharply. “You knew my mother was responsible for what happened to him? You’ve known all along?”

  “He told me he was coming to find you,” she says. “When he died just hours later, I knew it couldn’t have been an accident. I knew Kyra had killed him.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because it was my fault.” Suddenly agitated, Grandmother lashes out with a hand, sending the teapot flying. It shatters on the floor, letting the dregs of tea and leaves puddle into the cracks in the floorboards.

  Grandmother moves to get up, but I stop her. I kneel on the floor instead, collecting the shards of teapot.

  “Kyra cut your throat because of the curse,” I hear her voice say above me, more vulnerable than I have ever heard it. “She would have killed you if Amba had not sacrificed her immortality to save you. Then you went missing. Max searched for you for so long that it almost killed him. Elvar had a breakdown. There was a riot. That was when I knew I could not live with it any longer. I left.”

  I suppose I should be angry that, by her own admission, my great-grandmother made a mess and left the rest of us to clean it up, but I find that I can’t dredge up any anger at her. Not when I can see what the burden of that one terrible mistake has done to her.

  “If you were listening the whole time I was with Alexi in the temple,” I say softly, “then you must have heard us talk about Bear.”

  “Yes.” There’s the smallest tremor in her voice. “I know he is dead. That is why I will not see another visitor after you leave. Whatever happens next, I cannot bear to know it.”

  I wonder suddenly if this is really why Ash wanted us to come here. Alex was supposed to be here, too. If he had stayed, he and I would both have listened to our great-grandmother’s story. And having listened, both of us here together, would we have been able to see such anguish and still take this war to its bitter end? Or would we have found ourselves able to end the cycle of violence and tragedy once and for all?

  “It’s time for you to go,” Grandmother says quietly.

  I stand, putting the teapot shards carefully down on the table. She’s looking out of the window again. Chest tight, I kiss her cheek. “Goodbye, Grandmother.”

  “I will imagine a long, joyous, adventurous life for you, Ez-may.”

  At the door, I hesitate and look back. I can’t leave without saying one last thing.

  “Your curse was cruel,” I tell her. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But you’re wrong if you think everything that’s happened since is your fault. Every one of us could have made different choices and maybe averted each disaster along the way, but we didn’t. We all chose. Mother, too. You didn’t choose for us.”

  I leave her with that. She’s still gazing out of the window, already far, far away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Radha

  Princesses do not fidget, Radha, but I am most decidedly fidgeting. It feels like I’ve been standing here for an eternity, watching the spaceship in the sky make the slowest possible descent into the palace dock. It’s now close enough that I can see my brother Rodi standing at the windows of the ship, a broad smile on his face. My stomach twists.

  “What’s the matter?” I hear Titania ask from my right. I hadn’t even noticed her arrive. “You appear to be agitated.”

  I grimace. “My father has a way of disrupting my equilibrium.”

  “He can only do that if you let him,” she says with that unexpected wisdom that she sometimes comes out with. She used to do that as a ship, too. Then she frowns. “Should he disrupt my equilibrium? He’s my father,
as well, in a way. Should I feel the same way you do?”

  I turn to look at her young, doubtful face and feel a rush of affection for her. Since Rama died, we’ve all been so immersed in losing him and in this war that I’d almost forgotten all those years growing up in the palace, with Titania outside our windows, a permanent fixture in our lives.

  “Father and I have a difficult relationship,” I tell her. “Don’t let the way I feel about him change the way you do.”

  “He was kind to me when I was on Wychstar,” she says. “I think I’m fond of him.” She reaches into the pocket of her flowery dress and pulls out a toffee. Unwrapping it, she pops it into her mouth. “I have another if you’d like one,” she says reluctantly, noticing me watching her.

  I hide a smile. “I’m fine, but thank you.”

  “Oh, good,” she says happily.

  My father’s ship has landed at last. I watch as the engines drop to a low hum before going quiet. The doors hiss open. My stomach gives another anxious twist and I force myself to stand perfectly straight and still.

  My father leaves the ship first with Rodi right behind him. Father’s face is set, his brown skin paler than usual and his jaw clenched so tight I’m amazed he hasn’t cracked any of his teeth. He doesn’t look like he’s looking forward to this in the slightest.

  Before any of us can speak, Titania gets there first. “Father!” she cries, flinging herself at him impulsively.

  Father is many things, but he has never been cruel, so in spite of his surprise and discomfort, he accepts Titania’s exuberance with good grace. He allows her to embrace him and pats her awkwardly on the back.

  “A human existence suits you,” he says kindly.

  She beams and moves to hug Rodi, who laughs and returns her hug with enthusiasm.

  Father kisses me on the cheek. It’s probably just a polite greeting, but I’d like to think there’s some genuine affection in it. “Are you well?” he asks me while Titania jabbers excitedly to Rodi behind him.

  “Yes,” I say, somewhat surprised by this unprecedented interest. “Are you?”

  He doesn’t answer that, just looks at me with an expression that might be regret. “You’re a good girl,” he says.

  I blink, shocked. In spite of everything, my throat tightens, and I don’t know what to say. I clear my throat and opt for: “King Elvar and Queen Guinne send their apologies for not coming to greet you in person. They had an emergency war council meeting to attend.”

  In fact, Max, Esmae, Sybilla, and Amba are all also at the war council meeting. Esmae came home from the Night Temple just yesterday, looking exhausted and heartsick, and she didn’t have time to do much more than sleep before she was summoned to the meeting with the others. I don’t know what it’s about, just that it has something to do with a signal of some sort.

  At the mention of the war council meeting, Titania glances my way with a scowl. She wasn’t allowed to attend.

  As I lead the way into the palace, Rodi moves forward so that he’s in step with me. “How is Rickard?” he asks me in an undertone. “Father’s not doing very well. If this is likely to get ugly, we should call it off now.”

  “No, Rickard would never hurt Father,” I whisper back.

  “He already did, Radha.”

  “I mean he won’t do anything like that again. He’s not angry that Father sent me here to ruin him, Rodi. He’s not going to lash out.”

  Rodi nods. He rubs his forehead tiredly. Like almost everyone I know, he’s aged since Rama died. He’s only twenty-five, but I think I see the first grays in his hair. I imagine that’s as much to do with having to take over more and more of the kingdom from Father as it does with losing a brother. Rodi wasn’t expecting to inherit the throne for another twenty years.

  “Ria’s baby is hideous,” he says after a moment.

  I sputter a laugh, and he grins. “That’s your nephew,” I say, trying and failing to be stern. “Don’t be horrid about him.”

  “He is hideous! You haven’t seen him up close.”

  “Did you tell Ria that?”

  “Of course! I never lie to her.”

  I try and fail to picture what my sister’s reaction might have been. “There’s no such thing as an ugly baby, Rodi.”

  “He’s all red and scrunched up.”

  “Every baby looks like that!”

  “Father?” Rodi asks, turning his head back. “Were we red and scrunched up when we were babies?”

  Father smiles a little. “Yes. You were the ugliest one.”

  I think that’s a joke. I’m so stunned, I almost walk into a pillar. Even Titania looks bemused. Where was this father all my life?

  Glancing surreptitiously at him out of the corner of my eye, I try not to get my hopes up. Maybe this is who he is without the hatred and pain. Maybe, knowing he’s about to speak to Rickard one final time and get whatever closure he needs, he’s already starting to change. Maybe this is a chance for a new beginning for what’s left of our family.

  By the time we arrive at Rickard’s suite, Father looks pale again. Unexpectedly, I have a vision of what he must have looked like in his previous life, a shy, poor girl nurturing an unexpected talent, eager to please her teacher, desperate to belong. My heart goes out to her then, and to him now. How it must have hurt to be betrayed like that.

  “This is good, Father,” I say gently. “It’s time to move on.”

  I knock on the door and step back to let Father go in alone. The door shuts behind him, leaving Titania, Rodi, and me alone in the hallway.

  There’s a little balcony just off the hallway, so we sit there while we wait. Titania leans against the railing, her face in her hands as she squints up at the stars and gas clouds, far beyond the sun lamps and shields around Kali. There’s a lovely view of Erys from here, and I point some of my places out to Rodi, who looks at me with a slightly rueful expression on his face.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “You like it here,” he says. “You’re not planning on coming home, are you? Even when all this is over?”

  “I’ll always keep coming back to Wychstar,” I tell him. “There’s so much about it I miss when I’m here. But it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

  He gives me a lopsided smile. “Is it a girl?”

  “Yes,” says Titania.

  I sigh. “No, it’s me,” I insist.

  “There is also a girl,” Titania informs Rodi, sticking her tongue out at me. “She has annoying boots.”

  Rodi gives me a questioning look. I relent. “Her name is Sybilla.” Unbidden, a smile creeps across my face. “She’s incredible. You’ll like her. But,” I add firmly, “she’s not the reason I can’t see myself coming back to Wychstar for good. This is where I feel most like me. That’s why I want to stay.”

  “I’m glad for you,” he says, his smile sincere. “We’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll visit all the time, I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  I like the idea of that future. A life of my own, here, with Sybilla, with my friends. Travel. Classes at the University of Erys. Some kind of work that will make me feel excited and useful, like teaching. And frequent visits to the place where I grew up, my old home, where I can meet my sister’s children, and my father will be softer and happier, and my brother will make me laugh.

  I’m so preoccupied by these possibilities that I don’t notice the look of thunder on Titania’s face until she says, in a cold, contemptuous tone I’ve never heard her use before: “What do you want now?”

  I turn. Kirrin has materialized on the balcony. Did she really just speak to him like that?

  “Er,” Rodi says awkwardly, startled.

  But Kirrin seems uninterested in either Titania’s scowl or Rodi’s awkwardness. His face is grim. “Get in there,” he says sharply, jerking his head at the door to Rickard’s suite. “I can’t do anything, but you can. If it’s not already too late. Go.”

  For an instant, Rodi and I
are too surprised and confused to move. Then, with a jerk, my brother lunges across the hallway for the door. I follow half a step behind, dread dropping like a stone into my heart. Was I wrong to let our father go in there? Was Rickard angrier than he let on?

  Right before Rodi shoves the door open, we hear a boy’s voice from inside the room crying out.

  We burst into the room. Rodi lets out a strangled sound.

  Sebastian, Rickard’s grandson, is frozen by the window, his face ashen and his mouth open in a cry. I didn’t even know he was with Rickard when my father went in.

  Father is on his knees, his head in his hands.

  And Rickard is on the floor, with something silver sticking out of his chest and something red staining the carpet around him.

  Rodi was wrong. Father was never the one in danger. Rickard was.

  What have we done?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Radha

  Did I really think this could have been a new beginning for us? Princesses do not cherish foolish hopes, Radha.

  Father’s shoulders shake as he weeps, but I stumble past him and fling myself down to my knees at Rickard’s side. Titania is right behind me. We both put our hands on the wound, trying to see if there’s some way to stop the bleeding, but there’s already so much everywhere.

  “If I only had my lasers right now,” Titania wails.

  I move my hands frantically, trying to keep pressure on Rickard’s chest. It’s hard to do anything with the dagger in his heart, but I don’t dare take it out in case that makes things worse. “Oh, god,” I whisper, my heart hammering so hard I can’t hear anything else. “There’s so much blood.”

  I have no idea how much time passes before I become aware of footsteps and voices. Chaos. Two rough, calloused, familiar hands close over mine, pulling my hands away from Rickard’s chest. Across from me, someone pulls Titania away, too. “Radha, he’s gone,” Sybilla says in my ear, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  As I stand, I see Rodi kneeling beside Father, trying to speak to him. Kirrin in the doorway, all mischief gone, a god of sorrows instead of tricks. Max by the window, one arm around Titania and the other holding Sebastian back, both children pressed into his side like wounded, frightened young birds looking for shelter from a storm.