“What did you say?” Aunt Sulochana cried in disbelief.

Satya’s moist eyes sought her uncle. “Tell her,” she ordered. “You’re the one keeping secrets, aren’t you? Senapati told me he spoke to you and Acharya for my hand in marriage a month back. Uncle Madhava, why didn’t you tell me?”

The old man looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Satya. I thought I did the right thing as your guardian and protector. Acharya also insisted not to tell you. He feared it would affect your studies.”

Satya swallowed a morsel of flatbread. The pain had abated again.

Aunt Sulochana looked livid. “Madhava, is this true?”

He nodded. “I turned down Senapati’s marriage proposal as politely as I could. I believe Acharya was rather blunt with him.”

“And yet he spoke to her without your approval. How dare he?”

He shrugged. “It’s a wonder he didn’t order her to marry him.”

Both women stared at him in astonishment.

“Think about it,” he explained. “Senapati Veerata is the most powerful man on the continent, second only to Samrat Padmapani. No family in Satayu can refuse him as a son-in-law. But he still had the courtesy to ask for permission. He’s a better man than I believed him to be.”

Aunt Sulochana scoffed. “You give him too much credit.”

“Whatever his reasons may be, he respects our opinion; he respects Satya’s opinion. He asked for her consent. We mustn’t forget that.”

“So what? Would Samrat accept his cousin marrying the daughter of a dasa family?”

“I doubt even Samrat can stop him once he’s resolved to marry her.”

The words silenced Aunt Sulochana and haunted Satya. Uncle Madhava was right. Nothing but his own conscience could keep Veerata from reasserting his feelings. He might never accept her becoming an ascetic scholar. All week she had resented her uncle’s decision of keeping her in the dark. Would it really have made any difference if she knew the truth?

Numb with the thought, she picked up her basket and left home. None stopped her. Rest of the day, her mind remained occupied in Acharya’s lectures, mock tests, and fretful patients. As usual, the occasional stomach cramp became her only worry. 

By evening, she looked forward to returning home and having a proper conversation with her aunt and uncle. She would apologize for her sulking over the past week.

Veerata had not visited her since that fateful day, even for his treatment. If he sought her again and reasserted his feelings, she would be ready for him.

Couple of hours after the sunset gong, she bid goodnight to her last two patients. She spent the next twenty minutes updating the store ledger and tidying up the place. Once done, she peered out the front door. The shops on the market road were already shutting down for the night. Uncle Madhava would be here to pick her up soon.

Her eyes wandered towards the playground on her left, now deserted. Darkness already obscured the other end of the wide expanse. 

Her eyes wandered towards the playground on her left, now deserted. Darkness already obscured the other end of the wide expanse. The reward money came to her mind again. 

Should I buy a swing and a slide for the children? And a bench or two for the grandparents as well? I might need a license for that, too.

“Satya,” a familiar cheerful voice accosted her. “Are you closing early today?”

The entrance to the next door nursery stood open. The florist’s smiling face greeted her. Satya grinned back.

“Yojana, aren’t you running late?”

Yojana, the florist, was a buxom, middle-aged woman invariably dressed in the most colourful attire. This evening she wore a bright yellow cotton sari with gold trimmings along the border. “I was waiting for you, dear. Can you guess what this is?” She held up a small earthen pot in her hands.

“Your famous gooseberry syrup?”

Yojana’s round eyes sparkled with excitement. “Even better. Green mango syrup. I just made a fresh batch.”

Satya blinked. “Isn’t it off season for green mangoes?”

“A merchant from Videha used it to pay for his flowers today. Stir it in hot water and we can share a drink together. Can I use your stove?”

“Do you need to ask?”

“I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Yojana bustled into the store. Satya picked up her broom and swept the front yard slowly, looking forward to the delicious drink. She loved Yojana’s tangy gooseberry drink. At this time of the day, it was a refreshing treat. Green mango drink would be even better. 

A loud crash made her jump. She discarded the broom and rushed inside. 

“Yojana, what happened?”

The florist stood frozen next to the burning stove. The pot had dropped out of her hands and smashed to pieces in a green puddle. As Satya reached her side, she noticed Yojana staring into space, hypnotized. A mild wind nudged the loose end of her sari towards the flames.

“Be careful,” Satya cried, tugging at her arm in vain.

Yojana wouldn’t move. Smoke rose from the fabric.

“Princess Amodini.”

A sudden terror filled Satya’s being. Recognizing the voice, she glanced at the bottom of the stairs where the speaker sat.

“You–” Her lips trembled.

“Pranam, princess.” Still seated, the intruder bowed his head with joined palms in a mock salutation. 

His action dissipated her fear and triggered her anger. “What did you do to my friend?”

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Shame about the green mango syrup, though. Best quality from Videha. Did she tell you I gave them to her? In exchange for these flowers.” He tapped the garland hanging from his neck. “Princess, let me introduce myself properly. My name is Charaka of Amritambu.”