A/N: Warnings for verbal and physical abuse in the flashback sections.

A Hundred Summer Suns Part IV

"I don't have a sister."

This was it. This was the moment Heather broke. She had dealt with so much. She had handled so many impossible truths, so many irreversible mistakes. But this? This changed everything.

There had to be some kind of mistake. But Janki wasn't laughing. No one was jumping out of the bushes and slapping themselves on the back for a prank well-pulled. Instead, Janki was crying. Real, fat tears streaking her mascara and ruining her beautiful face. That wasn't fair. Janki was beautiful even when she cried, like a character in a movie.

"Please, sweet girl. It will be better if we are sitting."

She gestured for Heather to sit on the bench near a fountain. The water had been turned off for the night, still water reflecting the full moon above. Insects sung and so did the frogs, a chorus of nature at their backs. Old wood was soft under Heather's thin nightgown. She ran her fingers across the grain, unable to take Janki's hands so they remained clasped in her lap, white-knuckled and veiny.

"I don't have a sister," Heather repeated, her voice loud in the stillness of the night. "I'm an only child."

"Yes, that was how you were raised." Janki took a long breath in and when she let it out, her whole body shook. So did her hands. So did her voice. "When the rani made the decision to banish your father for his gross impropriety with your mother, Priya found out she was pregnant. She fought tooth and nail to keep your father here, to keep her family whole, but the rani would not budge. For all she claimed to be a trailblazer, we were all trapped in the dressings of tradition. There was a way things were done, and having a child out of wedlock with an outsider was not one of them. The rani was furious. She sent your father away and had your mother sent to the country until she could deliver the baby. She sent me to watch over her.

"Priya became...despondent. She wouldn't eat, would hardly sleep. She became a shell of herself. The only thing that brought her comfort was writing letters to your father. I think she knew we were reading them - burning them, even. At least, I knew the rani was burning any letter of his that found its way through our court. She was dead set on keeping them apart and this scandal under wraps."

Heather let Janki's story wash over her, every terrible truth stinging like a thousand paper cuts. She should have been furious with Janki, should have felt anger coursing through her on her mother's behalf. Although she was caught up in secondhand grief, the most prominent thought was of the rani. How that woman had taken her in, had held her hand, had sought out her counsel. And for what?

Did the rani only ever see Heather as a charity case? As a way to right the sins of her past? Did she ever believe in Heather's abilities at all, or was that more lies?

"And what about my grandmother?"

"The shame of Priya's actions nearly killed her. She did not object to any of the rani's judgement."

"But...she loved me."

"She does. She loves you so much, sweet girl. But these were different times, different circumstances. The Duchess had learned from her mistakes by the time you came along." Words that were meant to console only hurt Heather that much more. Janki must have sensed it, because she didn't dare scoot closer or take Heather into her arms, things she would have done just before this conversation started. Instead, she worked her jaw and kept talking. "All the months in isolation had turned Priya against her family, against her mother. She hated the Duchess more than she hated the rani by the end."

Heather never remembered her mother talking fondly about her family. Hell, her mother never spoke of her family at all. Her mother was the reason she never went to India as a child, why all her aunts and uncles and cousins had to make trips to see them, and they never stayed long. Her mother was the reason why Heather never felt connected to half of her identity. She always wondered why.

Now, she wished she didn't know anything at all.

"I think some small part of her hoped that your father would return. That he would dash in like the princes in her favorite Bollywood films and whisk her away from her evil family."

"He never even knew."

"He did not," Janki agreed, her eyes big and sad. She looked so much older with each truth that got pulled out of her. "When it came time to deliver the baby, Priya was despondent. She wailed for hours, not from the pain of childbirth but from the heartbreak of having to go through it alone. Tradition mandated that she only be with the doctors and midwives, but I wanted to be there for her. She refused until the end, when she was delirious from the pain. It happened so quickly after that, and soon enough I was handed your sister, bundled in swathes of cotton and silk. She was perfect, happy and healthy."

"How did she die?" Heather didn't want to know, but at the same time she needed to. She needed this closure. "Did my mother neglect her?"

Janki's face twisted, pain and anguish eating her whole. As if she had been the one to lose a child.

"News had reached the rani and the rest of the court of the birth. I expected little congratulations, but what I received instead..."

"What was it?"

"The rani told me under no circumstances was Priya allowed to return to court with that baby. A son would have been one thing, but a daughter born a bastard into this court would be a terrible thing. The rani would not allow her palace to become a whore house."

"That's terrible."

"It was. Priya's only options were to live in the country with the life of a peasant, or abandon her child. I knew she would never give up her baby. How could she, when the child was so very perfect, and so calm? She had yet to cry even once, but her breaths were strong. The picture of perfect health. Priya would have left us all just to spite us, and I couldn't lose my sister."

She sounded so young, looked so lost. Janki was no longer with Heather, instead trapped in the past, horrors flashing before her eyes. A gnawing feeling ate through Heather's stomach as she realized that the worst truth, the truth that haunted Janki, had not yet been shared.

"Auntie...what did you do?"

Janki closed her eyes.

"Priya was so out of sorts, her mind addled from labor and the opium morphine we gave her for the pain. I knew she would not come to her senses for hours yet. And in that time, I formed a plan." "I arranged for the child to be taken by a couple who worked at the country house. They had long struggled for a child and would treat her with love and kindness. When Priya awoke, she asked for her baby. I told her the baby had died upon birth."

Heather felt the earth shift beneath her feet. Her stomach flipped. She felt sick.

"Her wails were terrible. Haunting. Even more horrible than her passing. It is only right I remember them so well, a penance to pay for what I had done to my dearest sister," Janki continued, staring into the past. "As karma would have it, I lost her anyway. She blamed me for all her wrongs, including the death of her child, as if she sensed what I had done without knowing. She never trusted me again, and as soon as she could, she left us for your father and a life across the ocean. Now, she has left this earth and her absence has made a hole in my heart."

Heather didn't know how to feel. She didn't know who to blame, who to rage at, whose shoulder to cry on. She put distance between herself and her auntie, standing and starting to pace.

"My sister...she's alive?"

"As far as I know."

"Where is she?" A manic sort of energy took over, buzzing through Heather with a fury. "Where did you hide her?"

"I have kept these secrets for decades at the rani's behest. I have had them eat me away until I am nothing. Even when your mother died, as I wept at her grave, I could not bring myself to tell you the truth. Now, knowing what I do about your father, I am glad for it, but I cannot help but wonder if your sister's presence would have soothed the hatred in his soul."

"Nothing would have stopped my father from exacting his revenge. But it would have helped me. I felt so alone, auntie. I had no one for so long..."

"I know. I know, sweet girl and I am so, so sorry. I wish I would have told you. If I could have done things differently, I would have. But the rani - "

" - is dead."

Heather felt cruel for saying the words, for bringing Janki harm and making her flinch, but they had to be said. The rani was no saint, but she was no devil either, and Heather had never been superstitious.

She took her auntie by the shoulders, imploring.

"The rani cannot harm you now. So please, auntie, tell me. Where is my sister?"

.o.O.o.

Priya knew nothing of softness.

Her first kiss was fire, with all the pain and all the heat of its devastating power.

She had found Zachary Bloomsdale in the courtyard under the branches of the jasmine tree, all those months ago when his visit was still fresh and exciting and not the tedium it had fallen into. No doubt he had come from the parlor where the men stayed up and smoked cigars and drank brandy - filthy western habits that Priya wished her cousins would not fall prey to. Bloomsdale smelled of whiskey and smoke, but it did not cling to him. Light enough as if he did not partake, a suggestion of what happened behind closed doors.

They had been arguing - a continuation of what had transpired in the council chambers hours before. Then, he had backed her into a wall, his body leveraged so she could not get away. He was not gentle with her, his hands too tight and the wall too hard against her back. He smirked at his trap, perfectly executed.

She reached out and slapped him clear across the face.

"How dare you!"

Both were breathing heavy, eyes blazing, her hand print fresh and livid against his pale cheek.

Then, the moment turned and his lips were on hers. Claiming. Dominating. Biting on her bottom lip and sucking her tongue into his mouth as if he wanted to eat her whole. Far too much and too forward for a first kiss and yet Priya would not have settled for anything less than all of him. All of his fury, all of his attention, all of his passion focused on her just like their debates.

It was fascinating how fast hatred could turn to something else. Something more. Something scarily akin to love, though neither dared put that label on it yet.

On this night, Zachary Bloomsdale stood under the same jasmine tree. There was no smell of smoke, no sounds of revelry. Everything was quiet. Foreboding. The kind of night where the shadows jumped out and played tricks on the eye. The kind of night where every sound made Priya jump and every echoed voice had her wondering who was following. Who was watching.

When he caught sight of her, Zachary's face bloomed into something soft. Sentimental. Two things reserved just for her. Two things she could never get used to.

"They're going to banish you," she said before she lost her nerve. "I'm sorry, I tried - "

All of the softness vanished, and Zachary turned into a man possessed. His face reddened and his jaw clenched. As did his fists. If there was something nearby, he would have thrown it.

"Damn it!"

"I'm sorry."

And she was. Sorry. She had tried so hard to get a lighter sentence, had fought with everything she had to keep her budding relationship afloat. But her family was a force of nature, and Zachary Bloomsdale was an outsider. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, no matter if he converted religions and forsook his father's land, he would never be anything other than an outsider. That was made abundantly clear.

"This is not your fault, my love." He took a steadying breath, his pacing punctuated with horrid looks tossed the palace's way. "It's theirs with their stupid rules and outdated traditions."

"Things have been done the same way here for hundreds of years," she said, equally as frustrated. The only difference was that she had already given up. "We were foolish to think we could change their minds."

Zachary paced like a mad man, tearing across the stones with his fancy shoes while Priya bit on her lip, waiting for a response. She knew he would not take this well. She knew that he would not go gently. She knew he was prone to outbursts. All this, and yet she stayed, waiting for the bomb to go off.

"We can make them see reason."

"What?"

"We could get married."

"Married?" she mimicked, stunned. Was this some kind of joke? "We barely know each other."

A handful of months was barely enough to be considered a courting. A handful of months sneaking around, at that, was a mistake. At least, most of her family saw it that way. Had called it that during their emergency meeting. Had told her to break off this fling immediately and banish it from her mind. A summer fling, a lapse in judgement, a passing flirtation. Definitely not marriage material.

"I know enough. I know that there is no one like you, Priya. I know that you have bewitched me, that everything I am in this world and the next is yours, completely. There will never be another." He took her hands in his, squeezing tight, not giving her a chance to pull away. "I am yours, Priya. Say you'll be mine."

She stared into those frigid blue eyes. She had never known eyes so blue. Even her own could not compare. They held no guile; he meant every word he said.

But did she love him? Perhaps.

Enough to marry?

What man on the council challenged her as he did? What man thrilled her as he did? What man argued with as much passion, pushed her to her breaking, made her crazy with wanting and loathing in equal measures? What marriage could her mother, her cousins, her sovereign arrange that could match the intensity of Zachary Bloomsdale? She had tasted what it was like to become alive, to live for the thrill of it all, and now she was addicted to the sting.

He was right. There would never be another.

"Yes. I am yours."

.o.O.o.

There were a dozen other places Heather would have rather been than council.

The hour was too early. The light was too bright. Voices were too loud, like wrecking balls to Heather's frazzled brain. She hadn't slept much after her conversation with Janki. Even after she left the garden, the tears kept her up until dawn. A couple hours of broken, restless sleep was all Heather had to power her scattered thoughts, and all working brain cells were far away from this stuffy room.

Bed was calling. She had forgotten to take pain killers. And yet, she sat up straight and kept her eyes on her dossier, words swimming, senseless.

Her fellow councilmen weren't the ones who had their worlds ripped out from under them, and so, Heather persevered. There were budgets to discuss and Rahul was demanding an update from her and Siddhartha's joint project. A project Heather knew little about at this point, all work pushed off to Siddhartha. She hadn't the faintest idea of what he was going to present, but that was far from her biggest problem.

"In three days time, leaders from every nation will flood our doorsteps, including an Illéan delegation. We must present a united front, let the whole world see that this great country will not be trifled with." Rahul had been speaking in this manner for the past ten minutes, and quite honestly, his belligerent tone was the opposite of inspiring. "There will be banquets to plan, dinners to host, on top of the funeral procession and reception. A most tedious affair."

Tedious was this meeting, but Heather was too tired to make a comment. Her eyes kept fluttering shut as the council members spoke around her. Their rising tones barely registered.

Faintly, alarm bells rang in the back of her brain. Something along the lines of Illéan delegation and unanswered text messages from an unlabeled number on her phone. Past and present were crashing in around her, all her mistakes and secrets and wounds melting into one terrible disaster, and yet all she wanted to do was sleep -

"Heather."

Her head shot up, startled awake.

"Hmmm."

Rahul was staring at her, a strange look in his eye. As if she were something she did not recognize. "You have experience with these types of things. We will need to rely on your input on how to best impress our foreign guests."

"You need me," she repeated, dumbfounded. "After all this time belittling me, calling me names, insulting my intelligence, you need me?"

Rahul nodded, as if this were obvious. As if he had valued her opinion all along and she were dragging him down with semantics. "You are the only one with close ties to the Illéan king."

Ah, there it was.

Close ties. She didn't miss the dig, and neither did anyone else. The snickers, the huffs of laughter under thick mustaches and hidden behind delicate hands.

Heather could have laughed with them. Maybe she did, given all the strange looks shot her way. She was delirious, completely and utterly burnt out, and no one even cared. All Rahul cared about was what she could do for his, not a single thought spared about her happiness, her peace of mind. These users and abusers who took and took and took without a care of what wreckage they left behind.

"Did you know?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

Rahul looked at her, and Heather was sure he saw Priya instead. Just another foolish brown girl fallen prey to a white man. It didn't matter what they did, what they achieved, what names they made for themselves. The damage was done.

Might as well wreck everything on her way out.

"About my sister. Did you know?"

A hush fell over the council. It had never been this quiet before. It was taboo to speak so openly of secrets long-buried. A myriad of thoughts must have flown through Rahul's pea brain. He must have realized what Janki did, must have realized he'd lost all possible leverage, must have realized he would be exposed and in due time so would the whole family.

Rahul had the good sense to look ashamed. Humbled. He jaw jumped as it wired shut. For the first time since ascending his not-quite throne, he lowered his gaze, deferring to her. No one missed this, all eyes on them.

It should have been a victorious moment. Heather should have reveled in winning the war. Instead, she looked at Rahul and felt nothing at all.

Heather stood and gathered her things. Fuck the presentation. Fuck the project. It never mattered anyway.

"You're no better than the rest of them."

She left the council chambers without being dismissed. No one called her back.

.o.O.o.

It was thrilling to sneak out in the night, under the cover of the stars. Romantic, even. Priya had never felt more like a heroine from one of her favorite movies, the ones about star crossed lovers and secret rendezvous. She pulled her cloak up over her head, careful not to be seen as she scaled down the ivy crawling along the palace walls. She had done this dozens of times with Janki, but never had it felt more important to go unnoticed.

Guards were scarce this time of night, off sleeping or drinking or cavorting with whatever delegation passed through these infinite walls. Priya knew all the hiding spots and secret tunnels. She was not afraid of the tight, damp tunnels underneath the palace, nor the heavily wooded trails that started past the sprawling grounds. She knew which stones were loose and which floor boards squeaked under the slightest pressure. It used to be a game to make it home without a sound. Now, it was a necessity.

Scaling garden walls and avoiding all noise was hard with layers of skirts, vision obscured by a veil. Her formal best was not meant for adventure, yet she risked it anyway. Janki made sure nothing snagged, timed the rustle of the leaves with the delicate swish of her sari's beadwork.

The moon was full by the time they made it off palace grounds, a servant and a car waiting for them down the drive. It was a risk, involving others; Priya had barely wanted to involve Janki, but there would be no getting to the temple without a vehicle, and Priya could not drive. They drove with the lights off until they were far enough away from the palace, and then ambled down empty streets until they reached their destination.

The driver let them out at the foot of the temple. Janki instructed him to stay, that this would not take long. Priya did not know the story she spun - likely one about a midnight pilgrimage during a time of duress - but was grateful the servant asked no questions.

The stairs to the temple were steep. Priya nearly tripped twice, unfamiliar with these stones unlike the ones at home. Sounds and smells usually provided by devout worship and incense were absent this late in the night. Only the moon guided her way, illuminating darkened corners and glinting off gold statues of gods and goddesses. Kama - for love and desire. Shiva - to overcome obstacles. Many more too numerous to count.

All at once, Priya was flooded with grief.

There would no ceremonies. No haldi to color her skin. No mehndi to decorate her hands and feet in intricate patterns. No lehenga passed down from generation to generation to buoy her in the vast sea of her new life. No sangeet to dance hand in hand with Janki, her cousins, her mother who so desperately wished to see her only daughter happily married.

There was only herself and her groom standing side by side under the watchful eyes of the gods. It would have to be enough. They would make it be enough.

Zachary, himself, was dressed handsomely in a red and gold sherwani. Priya was not sure where he got it - if he had stolen it from Rahul or some other unsuspecting member of the court - but it suited him. It made her long for flowers and canopies and large parades. She had never once dreamed of the kind of wedding she would have, what her life would be like with a husband, but now she craved it. If only so she didn't feel so alone.

When Zachary saw her, his smile was bright enough to rival the moon.

"You are a vision," he said, extending his hand to her.

Priya took it, her blush hidden by the night.

Despite their happiness, Janki frowned. She looked from side to side, nervous. As if she expected the gods themselves to strike her down for bearing witness to this ceremony.

"We should hurry," Janki said, her voice a hushed whisper and yet it still echoed across the high temple walls.

The pandit was hired discreetly, a holy man with a solemn, weathered face. Janki had found him - a favor, she had called it. Despite her hesitance, this was the only way she could show her support. Priya loved her endlessly for it.

Traditionally, Priya would have been given away by her father. But Priya had no father. All she had was Janki, who let her go with a melancholy embrace, two kisses on her cheeks to mop up any tears.

Traditionally, the bride's brother tied the white cloth to the bridal sari, the other end then draped over the groom's shoulder. But Priya had no brothers. All she had was Janki, those steady hands binding Priya to Zachary, uniting them as one.

They stood beside one another in the pale moonlight, fire burning before their intertwined hands to seal their union. The glow from the flames cast an otherworldly halo around their heads, shadows leaping tall across the walls. The pandit's words washed over Priya, lighting her from the inside out. She wished Zachary would look at her, but he remained focused on the pandit, his profile regal as a prince.

Finally, they turned to face each other to take the seven steps and say their vows. They both were not ones for displays of affection. They had no need for fancy sentiment or flowery words. That had never been their style.

"You vex me," she said, reveling in his wicked smile.

"And I adore you."

They kissed, and for one perfect moment nothing could tear them apart.

.o.O.o.

"What the hell was that?"

Siddhartha stormed into Heather's small office, startling her out of more vicious thoughts.

Funny, Heather had never seen Siddhartha mad. She had only known him for a few weeks at most, and during that time he had been nothing but pleasant. Un-ruffleable. It was endearing to see him so heated now, to see his cheeks flush red and his eyes spark with annoyance. It was attractive, even. She had never known what to do with the calm, but the storm...the storm was her home.

"After you left, the raj dismissed everyone. He all but canceled the project. All that hard work, gone. Hours of charts, maps - "

"Rahul doesn't care about the project. He's been fucking with me this whole time."

Siddhartha looked gobsmacked, his jaw slack. As if he didn't realize what lengths Heather's fucked up family would go to to be petty. Power plays were Rahul's bread and butter. He could never win with Priya, and now he was learning he would not succeed with Heather either.

"Then why assign me to work with you?"

"No doubt he thinks the influence of a good Indian boy will put me in my place."

Siddhartha frowned. He studied Heather for a moment, gauging her sincerity, before scrubbing his hands over his face. He let out a long sigh.

"He doesn't know you at all, does he?"

Like you do?, was on the tip of her tongue, but she kept that to herself. Truth was, Siddhartha probably knew her - this version of her, at least - better than anyone in this whole damn country. She had never allowed herself to be close to her cousins even if she wanted to be. She had kept Janki at arm's length and still the woman bit her and filled her with more poison than a viper.

She was so tired. Tired of trying her hardest to impress people who only thought the worst of her. Tired of trying to fit in with a family who did unspeakable horrors to her mother. There was a reason Priya never came back, a reason she resisted Heather trying to get to know her family. Heather should have listened. If Priya were alive, she would be so disappointed in her, and that ate Heather alive.

But there was something else gnawing on Heather's insides: an address in elegant cursive, the street in a village outside a city in this province and a family name slipped under her office door just before she walked in.

"Can you drive?"

"I have a driver, yes."

"That's not what I asked." Heather knew she was being a dick, but she couldn't help but snap. She was pulled so thin as it was, she could barely spare a kind word for herself. Taking a fortifying breath, she tried again. "Can you drive?"

Siddhartha's brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

"There's something I need to do, but I don't want word getting around. I can't trust people to keep their mouths shut."

"And you trust me?"

That was a loaded question. Ask her two days ago and she would have said yes. There was no reason for her not to trust him. But now, the family she thought she knew, the family she had fought tooth and nail to stay with and changed herself to build, was a lie. She knew none of them, not really. She couldn't trust her Auntie Janki. The rani, the only woman who had given a shit about her opinion, was dead. Lord only knew what her cousins knew about the whole situation.

Everything Heather had come to rely on as fact was, in truth, a lie. Trusting would never come easily to her again. Despite all that, looking at Siddhartha now - hands reached out to steady her, the genuine concern in his dark eyes, the innocent way asked the question - she found that if she could not trust him now, then she wanted to try.

"Can I?"

He nodded. "You can." Then pulled keys out of his pocket. "I have a car, and now that my schedule is free from this never-ending project, I have lots of time. Where do you need to go?"

.o.O.o.

All they had was the night.

They snuck back, thick as thieves, the same way Priya had made her escape hours before. Janki stood watch as Priya helped Zachary scale the trellises, hushed giggles between them as they snagged hems and shoes on thorns and windowsills. They stumbled into her bedroom, drunk on love and the thrill of getting away with something.

Priya pressed him to the bed, held him down and made him beg for it. For the first time in her whole life, she felt unstoppable. Not just respected or feared for who her parents were, but genuinely powerful. Zachary obeyed her every command, showered her with love, made her toes curl and stars dance behind her eyes. Her world narrowed down to a single point: him. She didn't need anything more.

They fell asleep curled against one another, sweat cooling and sticking their skin together. Disgusting in any other circumstance, but Priya was willing to tolerate it for a night. She was too tired to move, too satisfied to care. She hummed happily, sleep coming quickly, too at peace to worry about what morning would bring.

Morning brought chaos.

Sounds of doors slamming and glass shattering startled her into consciousness. Curtains were ripped open, light assaulting her eyes. There were voices as well, loud voices, all overlapped and shouting.

It was too much to process. Eyes clouded with sleep, she could barely see the figure coming at her at a frightening speed.

"Get up!" Rahul hissed, yanking her by the arm and dragging her out of bed.

Frantically, Priya pulled the sheet to her chest, covering herself as best she could with her rabid cousin on her arm. His grip hurt, fingers digging into the soft, fleshy part of her under arm. It was not unlike him to be rude, but he had never laid a hand on her before today.

"Ay, beta! What have you done!" her mother wailed, tears streaming down her face as she laid eyes upon Priya, upon Zachary still in bed.

It was a shock to see her there; her mother rarely left the house after the death of her father. To make the trip all the way to Jaipur, in a whole difference province was startling. It had been months, nearly a year since Priya had laid eyes on her mother. And now, to see her mother so distraught and know that she was the cause made her heart break.

"Mommy, I can explain - " Priya tried to reach for her mother, but she backed away, shaking her head.

Priya felt her heart start to fracture, rejection stinging through the open wound. Doubt started to creep in. Had she truly made the right decision? She couldn't bring herself to regret the wedding last night, but now, as Zachary sat stock still on the bed, his face a mask of stone while she was accosted by her family...it made it harder to stand by her decision.

"I hope you're happy," the rani said, her face a twisted scowl. "You have brought shame upon this family by sneaking around and marrying that boy."

"You've ruined yourself," Rahul spat, throwing her further out the door, into the hall where a congregation of servants had gathered. "You're nothing more than a cheap whore."

"If you would just let me speak - "

A hand came down across Priya's face so hard and swift that it stunned her.

"Enough talking," her mother commanded, nothing maternal about the way she stood nor the look on her face. In this moment, she was the Duchess and nothing more. "All you have done is talk and talk and talk. Your whole life, you never learned to be quiet. That is my fault. I should have had a firmer hand with you after your father died. But this mess you have made is inexcusable. Your actions will have consequences."

"Consequences?" Priya repeated, trying not to panic. She wanted to reach for Zachary, to have him steady her, but that would only fan the flames. "What, you're banishing me too?"

"And give you reason to leave with that man? Absolutely not." The rani shook her head, disappointed in Priya in a way she had not been since her youth. Any love and pride she held for Priya had fled her cold, cold heart. "There is a retreat in the country that will do wonders for your state of mind. Janki will accompany you."

"So you're not banishing me, but you're sending me away? All because I love a man who isn't your choice?" Priya was not ashamed to cry, to let hot tears well up in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. "Well what about my choice?! When do I ever get a say in what I want!"

"Ungrateful children do not get a say in what they want!" her mother shrieked.

The Duchess's voice echoed off the walls. It silenced Priya more than the slap. Her family stood in a semi-circle around her, barricading her from her new husband as they cajoled her, caged her.

They did not love her. They only wanted to control her.

"Guards, escort this man off of the property. Ensure he gets on the next flight out of India," the rani instructed, sneering in Zachary's direction. "He should have joined his king a long time ago."

This time, Priya did reach out. She yanked herself out of Rahul's iron grip, nearly knocked her mother and Janki down in order to break the barrier before Zachary could get carted away. They treated him no more kindly, pulling him up out of bed with barely enough time to cover himself. Outdated morals kept them from parading him around bare, but yet they let Priya feel that shame. Another slap in the face.

Priya reached out through the chaos and Zachary reached back. He punched a guard clear across the face, so hard that bone cracked and the guard did not get back up. He pulled her to him and crashed their lips together, a clash of teeth and tongue that would be seared onto Priya's mouth from now until the end of time. She let him taste the salt of her tears, the sting of blood from the inside of her cheek. A moment drawn out for a millennia.

There was screaming, yelling as they were torn apart. Rahul was harsher this time, pulling Priya with enough force to ground a man thrice her size. His nails dug half moon craters into her arm. Zachary was restrained in cuffs, pushed against a wall with his head shoved against the stone.

One of the guards beat Zachary in the stomach with a club as he fought, knocking the wind out of him. He wheezed for air, and as he tried to right himself, they hit him again.

"Stop!" Priya pleaded, crying. "Stop it! You're hurting him!"

No one listened to her. Her mother muttered prayers while the rani shouted for more force. Zachary was all but dragged from the room, blood trailing from his mouth while Priya thrashed against Rahul.

"Priya! I"ll come back for you!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the halls as he was dragged away. "I'll come back for you!"

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. Her knees became weak, giving out from under her, and she crumpled to a pile on the floor. She thought it was the grief, the emotional highs and lows of marriage and separation. The memory of one perfect night now ruined by the light of day. She sobbed into her knees, arms wrapped around her abdomen.

Still the pressure built. Then, she bent over and threw up on Rahul's shoes.

.o.O.o.

The road to Ajmer was long, clogged with traffic and clouds of dust. Siddhartha had been driving for hours. Even though the smaller city was only a few hours away from Jaipur, it felt like half the world separated Heather from her destination - that old city sprawling round a lake, building towering up from the ground like artificial stalagmites. Heather knew little about it, only maps during council meetings and a 'top ten' highlight reel from the internet.

Months in India and she'd barely let herself explore, trapped within the palace walls. No wonder her mother had seen it as a prison.

She pressed her forehead to the glass, let it scald her skin.

It was an understatement to say they were out of place in his Mercedes. Most cars on the road were beat down buses overcrowded with day workers, the others sedans and mopeds from the last decade. There were more bikes than vehicles. Every time one zipped by, the cyclists turned their heads, curious to see the rich folk cruising in luxury. Heather felt like sinking into the buttery leather, the smell of new car still heavy between them.

"Can you tell me what we're looking for?" Siddhartha asked, taking a turn onto a narrow dirt road off the main drag.

She still hadn't told him why she'd dragged him all the way out here, and she could tell he was getting antsy. He kept drumming his fingers on the wheel, humming to himself when the radio stopped picking up his favorite station. It was cruel to use him like this, but she couldn't say the words out loud. She didn't even know if she really believed them yet, that there was a girl somewhere in this city she could call sister.

Not a girl, a woman. She would be in her early twenties if the math checked out. Old enough to have her own life, perhaps a husband or kids. It was surreal to think about. Heather was prepared to have a sister, but nieces and nephews? That was too much.

She tried not to hyperventilate as the car crawled through the tight streets, emptying out to wider, desert pastures as they left the heart of Ajmer.

No part of this trip was planned. Heather didn't know what she was going to say. She didn't even know who to look for. Just a gut feeling and an address decades old.

Maybe the house was abandoned and the family moved somewhere else far, far away never to be found. Maybe this was just another cruel game. There was no way to know until Heather got there...wherever there was.

The roads kept winding, dust swirling, the smell of animals overpowering. The GPS kept beeping, turns getting tighter. They were so close. So close to what Heather wanted. To the proof she needed. To her -

There.

Just a glimpse, but it was enough. She pressed a hand to the window, her whole body turning to follow a stranger. Her other hand was on the handle, opening up the door while the car was still in motion.

Siddhartha slammed on the brakes.

"Hey! What are you - "

The car door slammed shut behind her, cutting off whatever came next.

Heather moved like a woman possessed, pushing through the crowded weave of the market to follow the stranger in the orange sari. It had only been a glimpse, but Heather knew by now that her gut was never wrong.

There she was.

There were no photos to confirm. No one had kept tabs, had sent scouts, had asked for a single shred of news. She could be dead for all anyone knew. But Heather knew. She knew it in her bones, the way her gut swooped and her heart tugged in the direction of the girl in the orange sari - no petticoat, no blouse, just the long fabric tied around her in the way grandmothers liked to wear it.

There was nothing special about this girl, nothing separating her from the others. Dust ringed around the hem of her well-worn skirts. No jewels adorned her skin - darkened by hours in the sun. Her hair was plaited in a simple braid down her back, dark and thick. She looked like every other village girl this far off the beaten path.

But her eyes.

Her eyes were Heather's eyes. The same blue that met her in the morning each day. The same eyes that haunted her nightmares, the eyes her father used to lie with day in and day out. The same eyes that Priya wrote about in her diary, the ones that she wished Zachary could have seen. Perfect.

And she was...happy.

What was it like to be happy? Heather couldn't remember the last time she smiled and meant it, but this girl did it so easily. Her smile was wide and bright. Her laughter was audible over the hum of the car, easy and carefree as she talked to some vendors, pocketed vegetables and placed them in the bag at her side. It sounded like Mom's laugh. It made Heather want to cry.

Heather could go up to her now. She could touch her shoulder, see their matching eyes, and explain her story. She could take her back to the palace, introduce her to the court, and live with her sister, have a family.

But what kind of life would that be?

A life of politics and misery and secrets? A life of death and danger around every corner? A life where her very existence would be ridiculed by those who believed in the 'purity of bloodlines'. A life so twisted and complicated that chewed up and spat out every single thing in its path?

Heather couldn't do that. Not to this girl whose life was this village, this simple way of life untainted by violence and grief. Her parents were farmers. Her friends were ordinary girls. Likely she would never leave this bubble. Her life would be happy.

A hand at her shoulder pulled her back into reality.

Cars were honking. People were shouting. Siddhartha had left the car running in the middle of the street, and now they had caused a jam. A man walking goats gestured at them in annoyance while another vendor with a moving cart of produce cursed a blue streak.

They couldn't stay. They had to go.

"What were you thinking?" Siddhartha asked as he led her back to the car, gently pulling on her wrist as she refused to turn away from the girl in the orange sari. Heather didn't even know her name. "You trying to get run over?"

"Sorry, I - I just...I thought..." Heather couldn't make her mouth move. Sentences were impossible, her throat clogged by tears and dust. "I'm sorry."

As they drove away, Heather caught one last glimpse of her. The girl in the orange sari stopped in front of a house, the address familiar from the slip of paper on the dash. As she opened the door, an older man with grey-streaked hair welcomed her inside with a hug and a kiss. An older woman helped her with the groceries. The whole scene was so domestic it made Heather's chest hurt with wanting.

Her sister was happy. Her sister was safe. Far, far away from her.

"So," Siddhartha said tentatively, oblivious to what was happening yet cautious as to what Heather would do next. "I'm not seeing anything. Do you want to take another lap around the block or - "

"Take me home," she mumbled as her eyes slipped shut, exhausted.

Wherever that was.

.o.O.o.

"My love."

Priya spun around, light breaking through the darkness.

That voice.

Zachary had snuck into her prison like a ghost in the night, cloak and all. It was a ridiculous thing, something out of theater production, all heavy black velvet that cast his face into shadows. Priya knew it was him, though. She was intimately familiar with the way shadows cut across those cheek bones, how his body moved when he thought no one was watching.

When he lowered his hood, Janki gasped.

"Scream and I will shoot."

That should have been a warning, a sign that Priya did not know the man in front of her. Not really. But she knew him enough to know that he was mad enough to have brought a gun. Self-absorbed enough to follow through on his promise and take them all to the grave. Obsessed enough to think that a satisfying ending, together in death.

Janki lowered a trembling hand away from her mouth. It was pulled down into a tight frown, her eyes searching for the gun in the infinite folds of his robe. Priya knew it likely did not exist, but she did not say a word. She was too caught up drinking in the sight of her husband: his tousled blond hair, his thin lean frame, his ice blue eyes.

"You should not have come," Janki said, finally.

"I had to take the risk." He stepped further into the room, to Priya and not to Janki. As if Janki did not even exist. "I spoke to both councils. The rani never filed a formal banishment."

"She certainly will now."

"Let her," he snarled, as rabid and forceful as a street dog. "By that time, we will be long gone."

Janki rushed to Priya's side, begging. "Priya, what does he mean?"

In truth, Priya did not know what any of this meant. She did not know how Zachary found her, did not know how he set such plans in motion, did not know why he fought for her so strongly. They knew each other a handful of months; there was a whole year between the last time they parted and now. So much had changed, herself included. And yet, one look in those ice blue eyes and she knew exactly where she was supposed to be.

With him. In Illéa.

"She is my wife, that makes her an Illéan citizen. You cannot hold her here against her will."

Janki turned Priya to face her, blocking Zachary from her view. "You would turn your back against your family, your country?"

"What good has this country ever done for me?" Priya snapped, filled with hatred and venom. "Locked me here, in this room like an animal? Called me a whore, abandoned me in my time of need, discarded me with the trash? What kind of family is that, eh?"

Janki stumbled back as if struck. They had fought before. What sisters didn't? But this was new. This was not a fight they could come back from unscathed. Priya looked at her sister, at her princess, at Janki, and felt their bonds start to crumble and break. She did not see the girl holding her hands in a spinning circle, did not see her playmate and closest confidante. Priya saw her jailer, her tormenter in the form of someone who claimed to care. A puppet for the palace. The rani's mouthpiece.

In Priya's eyes, Janki was weak. She was too feeble to stand up for Priya in her time of need. Janki abandoned Priya. Worse, she betrayed Priya. There was nothing worse than turning your back on a sister, and yet, Priya felt no shame because Janki left her first.

"There is a car outside to take us to the embassy. From there, we will fly to Angeles and start a new life," Zachary promised. Priya had no reason not to believe him.

Janki clung to Priya's wrist like a leech, desperation and terror in her eyes.

"He cannot make you happy."

"He makes me happy enough." In truth, Priya did not need more than that. What Zachary could offer her was more than what she had here. She would take his freedom and run with it, protect it and nurture it, far from the land that stole her baby from her. "This is the last time we will meet. After today, you will never see me again."

"May the gods protect you."

"I don't need your prayers," Priya sneered. "Save them for yourself. Goodbye, sister."

Later, on the private jet bound for Illéa, Priya asked her husband, "You didn't really have a gun, did you?"

Zachary smiled and took her hand. He placed a kiss to the knuckles, completely content, then let it go. "Of course not, my love."

Still, the niggling feeling did not go away. Priya got up and excused herself to use the restroom. Instead, in the other room, she sifted through the luggage. There wasn't much time to grab things, so her cases were very few, but Zachary brought a couple for himself. One was smaller, black, hard-covered and without a lock.

Inside, Priya found a revolver with the safety off and three bullets in the chamber.

.o.O.o.

They got back to the palace late enough for the sun to begin its rise. Far later than proper.

There would be talk amongst the servants, amongst the aunties and her cousins, but Heather didn't care. She didn't insist that Siddhartha drop her off outside the gates; she let him pull up the gravel drive with the headlights on, servants rushing out to greet them. She didn't shut her door softly and tip toe up the stairs; she slammed it shut and used her normal pace, her normal heavy steps that click clacked against the stone, people rushing to get out of her way.

"Heather!"

Siddhartha didn't even shut the car off. He let the servants handle the vehicle, moving it into the garage to be cleaned and serviced. He tossed his keys to the nearest butler and trailed after her, taking the steps by twos to match her stride until finally he was in front of her.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"

"I do, I just..."

She didn't have the words for all the emotions running through her, the exhaustion and the turmoil and the grief. She hung her head and let her strings be cut, her whole body slumping forward in hopes he would catch her. Catch her, he did. Siddhartha held her steady and she let her head rest on his chest, let the beat of his heart steady hers.

Sister. She had a sister.

It was still such a strange thought, her only child world crumbling around her, reshaping itself into something new and terrifying. More daunting was the fact that no one knew - no one could ever know. A secret world for her to live in, a reality only she could see. Well, she and Siddhartha, but something told her she could trust him. Really trust him. He'd take this secret to the grave. They both would.

"Time. Give me time, and I'll tell you everything."

"I can wait."

She leaned up on her tip toes, barely giving herself a moment to think, a moment to second guess, and kissed Siddhartha softly on the lips. In the back of her mind, she realized this was the first time she'd kissed him in the light of day. On purpose. Without alcohol or sex on the table. And it felt right. It felt safe.

It felt like it could be home.