I have been claimed to be a rani. A queen.
Stunned silence pervades the chapel. My face must mirror everyone else’s disbelief and astonishment. Priestess Mita calls forward Sister Hetal, who brings a pot of henna. The priestess dips her pointer finger in the dye and strokes it from between my eyebrows, down my nose. Though I cannot see it, there is a short line down the center of my face—a sign to all that I am to be wed.
The priestess waits for Sister Hetal to return to the back of the chapel and then says, “I have more momentous news. His Majesty visited the other Sisterhood temples prior to traveling to Samiya. He was searching for a very special recipient, and Kalinda is his choice. She is to be the rajah’s one hundredth rani.”
Murmurs from the sisters rupture the quiet. I, with the other daughters, silently consider what this means. In the Parijana faith, mortal men are permitted only as many wives as Anu, who had one hundred. Otherwise, the sky-god becomes jealous and curses the man and his lineage. But to wed the same number of women as Anu is proof of eminence. No other living sovereign has cared for one hundred wives. No other ruler has the resources. Marrying me will establish Rajah Tarek as the dominant monarch on the continent.
The thought of so many unknown faces dazes me. I am to be the rajah’s one hundredth rani. He has ninety-nine wives. Ninety-nine! I understand that a man’s number of wives is a sign of his wealth and power, but how powerful should a man be?
“Can anyone recite the story of Enlil’s Hundredth Rani?” the priestess says. She scans for a volunteer, but no one raises their hand. “Jaya, would you please?”
Jaya stands slowly, her eyes swollen from crying. I clamp my teeth shut. I detest Priestess Mita for turning this into a preaching moment. But before I can think ahead to what reason she may have, Jaya starts.
“The fire-god, Enlil, took many mortal wives and courtesans, all of whom were blessed with astounding loveliness, enough so that the sky-god began to covet his son’s good fortune. So when Enlil announced that he would wed his one hundredth wife, Anu was wrought with his son’s greediness and would not allow Enlil more wives than he had. Anu told Enlil he could have only one hundred wives and courtesans, mortal or otherwise, and he was to drown those he did not keep. Enlil was distraught. He cared for his wives and courtesans, and could not pare them down to so few. In his grief, he asked his father how he should choose which of his women to retain. Anu responded by saying, ‘Let them decide.’”
Warmth seeps from my face. No, no, no.
Jaya goes on, each word quieter than the last. “Enlil’s wives would not rescind their rank. They loved their husband and honored him, but the courtesans loved Enlil as well, and they did not think that it was just that they should die. So the courtesans challenged Enlil’s future wife and battled for her rank as the last rani. Enlil’s future wife was the loveliest of them all and had a merciful heart to match, but she was also a fierce contender. She defeated every challenger and held her position until she was the last warrior standing. She wed the fire-god and was his favored wife forevermore.”
“Well done, Jaya. You may kneel.” The priestess beams at me.
I have waited all my life for her to see me as someone of worth. Now that she does, her praise repels me.
“Kalinda has been claimed, but now she must claim her place in the palace. She has the great honor of defending her throne by participating in the age-old rite of rank fighting.”
Her words are talons ripping into my chest. My hands betray my fear, quaking against my sides. I never thought that this would happen, or I would have remembered my lessons about the rank tournaments. Each time the rajah takes a wife, the law of the gods states that his current wives and courtesans may host a tournament in which they duel to defend or improve their position or vie for the coveted first-wife spot. These brutal battles go on for days and often end in death. This is why Rajah Tarek wanted to see us duel. This is why he chose me, despite my looks. I am the last wife he will ever claim, and he wants a warrior to defend her rank as his final rani.
But I cannot win. The priestess must know that. Everyone must. My performance at skill trials was a fluke. I triumphed over Sarita, yet surely the rajah must have seen that I am not the strongest fighter. My strength came from my love for Jaya. His courtesans have trained for years for the tournament. Some of them are novices like me, but they will be weeded out. The strongest will win and wed Rajah Tarek, and it will not be me.
“The rajah has chosen Kalinda to represent his throne as his champion,” says Priestess Mita. “In her honor, his wives and courtesans will host a rank tournament, their largest ever, as this will be his courtesans’ last chance to secure a spot as rani. Let us honor his champion!”
Priestess Mita brings her hands together in prayer and bows before me. The sisters at the back of the chapel emulate their leader, and all of the kneeling daughters bend forward, resting their foreheads against the floor. Natesa does not move.
“Show respect for your future queen,” orders the priestess.
Natesa’s nostrils flare, and her fingers turn clawlike. I have no doubt that she wants to toss me off the mountain, but she presses her palms together at her chest and dips her chin.
“I appreciate your obedience, daughters,” says the priestess, releasing them from their deference. She wraps an arm around me and steers me down the chapel aisle to the rear door.
This is happening too fast. I cannot leave now. Yet some part of me registers that I am leaving.
We reach Jaya, and I tear away from the priestess’s hold. I drop to my knees before my best friend and crush her against me. “I would bring you with me if I could.”
“Come back and claim me as your servant. Promise me you will win the tournament, Kali. Promise me you will return for me.”
Her forward thinking overwhelms me. On occasion, a benefactor’s wife accompanies him for a Claiming, and together they choose a servant, usually a ward with weak fighting skills. But even if I could come back and claim Jaya, would I?
“No,” I say. “You have to swear fealty to the Sisterhood, or you could be claimed by the next benefactor who comes here.”
“But if I join the Sisterhood, we will never see each other again.”
My stomach lurches. Saying farewell to Jaya forever is unbearable, but asking her to wait for me is a tremendous risk. Too much can go wrong. “You cannot—”
“I will not be claimed. No one will want me now that my face is scarred.”
I clasp her shoulders hard. “I thought no one would want me either!”
Jaya’s wet eyes press upon me. “You can win, Kali. You never give up. Promise me you will win. Promise me you will come back for me.”