I stifle a groan. Of all the people to see me upset . . .
Princess Gemi sits beside me. “I realize I haven’t made a good first impression,” she says, “but nothing happened between Deven and me.”
“I didn’t assume otherwise.” My chilliness should be off-putting, yet the princess loiters.
“He watches you, you know. My father used to look at my mother the same way Deven looks at you.” Princess Gemi hugs one knee to her chest, the ease of her trousers allowing the movement while retaining modesty. “The general’s party is supposed to meet with the navy in four days where the River Ninsar connects with the River Nammu. I’d like to go with the sailors, but the admiral won’t let me on board without the prince’s permission. He’s a taskmaster about protocol. Can you help a fellow sister warrior?”
Her sweet talk about sister warriors does not motivate me, but Admiral Rimba requiring her to receive authorization from Ashwin is ridiculous. Datu Bulan enlists female Virtue Guards, and women serve in his navy. Clearly he approves. Moreover, Princess Gemi is a grown woman and the next ruler of the Southern Isles. Fighting for her homeland should be her choice.
“Tell Admiral Rimba I’ve requested your attendance. And let him know my party will also meet with the navy where the rivers connect.”
She scrunches her lips to the side. “Will the prince honor your decision?”
I can think of no reason why Ashwin would protest bringing another bhuta into our ranks. We are willing to accept the rebels’ assistance, so we can certainly accept hers. “If you’d like to ask him, he’s inside. But you should hurry. The fleet looks ready to disembark.”
Princess Gemi’s attention zips to the docks. The sailors have finished loading the vessels and they file aboard. She hops up. “No need. I’ll tell the admiral. We’ll meet again in four days!” She takes off downhill with a speed and ease that wring a drop of envy out of me.
Trousers on a woman. Why didn’t I think of that?
I step out from behind the dressing screen wearing plain dark clothes that I found in the cabinet. The fitted trousers will take some adapting to, but I already prefer their convenience over the lengthy process of pleating, pinning, and tucking a sari over a blouse and petticoat. I smile to myself as I pack another set of trousers and tunic to bring to Samiya.
“What’s so amusing?” Mathura asks, entering my chamber.
“I was imagining Priestess Mita’s expression when she sees me in trousers.”
Mathura sizes me up. “A skirt is more proper for a rani, but they’re flattering on you.”
I glimpse my profile in the mirror glass. The trousers define my lower body and hips. Priestess Mita will say my attire is scandalous, but my wardrobe is the least of the changes that have come over me since we last saw each other.
“You just missed Deven,” Mathura notes.
“I know.” I stuff the last of my belongings into my pack, pushing hard to fit the extra clothes. Between the colder mountain weather and the chill inside me, it will be a battle to stay warm.
Mathura sits on the end of the bed. “Natesa told me you’ve grown close to Prince Ashwin.” Before I can guess what she is insinuating, she finishes. “That’s for the best. You’re the kindred of the Tarachand Empire, and a good one at that.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you want, Mathura?”
“Deven will never interfere with your duties. He’ll hold on to the dream of you unless you tell him otherwise.”