Page 5 of The Prince Without Sorrow

Chapter Four

Ashoka

‘P RINCE A SHOKA, I COME BEARING GIFTS. ’

Glancing up from his texts on the Ridi Kingdom’s language, Ashoka spotted Saudamini sauntering into his chambers with several books clutched to her chest. Her frizzy black hair was tamed into a bun, glistening with streaks of oil. Ashoka watched as Rahil closed the door behind her, looking amused.

‘Sau,’ he greeted her, smiling. ‘Come to harass me?’

‘How dare you accuse me of harassment,’ Sau replied good-naturedly. She was his mother’s youngest political advisor, and one of his closest friends aside from Rahil. They had suffered under the same tutelage in their adolescence – Sau’s own aunt, Lakshini.

When she stopped at his desk, Sau took a curious sniff. ‘You’ve already bathed?’ she asked. ‘It’s only mid-afternoon, so why – ah . Did you manage to kill this time?’

Sau’s voice wasn’t filled with vitriol. Like Rahil, she never teased him for his softness. He was a weed growing among sunflowers; they had long since understood that he lacked the ferocity of his siblings.

After failing his father’s supposedly simple task, he and Rahil had returned to the royal palace in silence. Both arrived looking like they had been subject to a heinous battle in the mud, baffling much of the palace staff. Their bodies had been covered in ash, fur, and a smattering of blood.

He told the staff he’d taken an unfortunate tumble. There was no point in telling them he and Rahil collected kindling, cremated a deer, and that he had cried watching it burn. Such stories would reach his father eventually, and he would be subject to another one of Adil’s harangues. No matter. Once his father returned from Kolakola, his failure would be known anyway.

Though Ashoka did not care to tell his staff, he did tell Sau. ‘I didn’t,’ he replied, ‘but Rahil did.’

Rahil’s response came quick. ‘And Ashoka could have lied to appease the emperor, but he chose not to.’ When Ashoka tilted his head to the side, he found Rahil watching him with his arms crossed. Was he upset with him? Surely not over something so minor.

‘Are you mad at me?’ he called out.

The answer came in a series of gestures. Rahil uncrossed his arms, placed them behind his back. His posture relaxed. ‘No, Ashoka,’ he responded. ‘I simply thought you would accept a lie before I realized who you are.’

Not mad, then. Exasperated, perhaps, at his lack of action.

With a flourish, Sau set the books down on his desk. Ashoka examined them idly. The spines were old and battered, the paper yellowed with age. The titles were written in a curlicue script that he recognized but could not read fluently.

‘This is from Anurapura,’ he remarked.

‘My father sent me a few more books on the mayakari,’ Sau replied. Born and raised in the kingdom of Anurapura, she had relocated to the Golden City with her mother after her parents had separated. ‘And look – two of these are on Great Spirits and their abilities. The artist has sketched them to perfection.’

A thrill shot up Ashoka’s spine as he bent closer to view the sketches. He could never find books in such detail like this.

His father had removed all books pertaining to the mayakari and their abilities from the palace library before he was born. In fact, he’d given orders to have any texts detailing mayakari history banned within the Golden City. Such books were difficult to find now, as rare as a kept promise. Still, there were some left behind. When he was eight, Ashoka had stumbled upon a book on mayakari philosophy in his father’s study. It detailed their adherence to non-violence, their commitment to preserving the natural world, and keeping a balance between humans who expanded their lands and the nature spirits that dwelt in them.

The stories in that one book negated everything his father had ever preached about the witches. How were they dangerous if their code was passivity? How were they dangerous if they lived as nomads, beholden to no kingdom? No empire?

It was forbidden knowledge. His father removed the book when he realized Ashoka had been going into his personal study to read it, and then punished him for it.

Patting the books fondly like they were a favoured child, Ashoka bumped Sau’s elbow with his own. ‘Thank your father for me,’ he said. Though he had never met him, his willingness to send often difficult-to-find information to his daughter – and therefore, the prince – was admirable. These days, when he had any inquiries, he tended to ask Harini, one of his maidservants. Unbeknownst to anyone but himself, Rahil, Sau, and one other staff member she refused to name, she was a mayakari. It was Sau who had found her work in the palace, an action that caused Ashoka to question her sanity when he’d first heard. After all, what kind of mayakari would agree to work in the palace, of all places?

Sau had given him an answer befitting a lunatic: that it would be the last place his father would think to look. Nonetheless, Ashoka couldn’t refute that idea entirely.

‘I can thank him all you want, Prince Ashoka, but these books are useless here,’ Sau replied.

‘Not only that,’ came Rahil’s deep timbre, ‘but I fear your father will castigate you if he ever finds these in your possession.’

Instinct made Ashoka touch his scarred earlobe. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened last time. One burn was enough.

‘Rest assured, I will keep these books somewhere safe,’ he said. They could very easily be hidden in his cabinets or tucked away into the false bookends he’d commissioned. Sau’s room would also function as a storage space if she ever allowed it.

Allowed? His father’s voice came rushing in immediately. You are a prince, foolish child. You do not wait to be allowed. You command and expect to be obeyed.

He forced the voice away. ‘Besides, what do you mean by “useless”? I can use this information for when father allows me to assume a governorship role. Rules of land preservation and nature spirit contact are advantageous.’

Arush was the only one of his siblings who had spent the last year governing the state of Chalamba east of the Golden City. He’d returned at the start of the New Year, having neither depreciated the area nor transformed it, but that was unsurprising. Nothing revolutionary would happen under Arush’s rule.

Ashoka, however, thought differently. When it would come time for him to govern, he planned to cease mayakari burnings and the unnecessary culling of forestland for ironwood, even if temporarily. It would provide a respite, however brief, to the non-stop destruction his father had inflicted since he had come into power.

And besides, there was only so much that humans could take away from Great Spirits before they retaliated.

Sau scoffed at his response. ‘In this empire?’ she asked incredulously before her sharp eyes narrowed in challenge. ‘Want to make a bet on it?’

‘I’m not interested in furthering your gambling habits for petty reasons,’ Ashoka remarked. Sau’s wagers never went in his favour, he couldn’t lose any more gold coins or books to her.

Sau tutted. ‘Too safe,’ she said. ‘What about you, Rahil?’

‘Absolutely not.’

Ashoka grinned. Even Rahil knew when to draw the line. ‘I wanted to ask you – have you heard any news of my father?’ Being privy to conversations with his mother and the advisors, Sau would likely know how his father had fared in Kolakola. Ashoka fervently hoped that by some stroke of luck, his father had decided to turn back.

Unfortunately, Sau did not give him the answer he hoped. ‘Last I heard, he was still on route to Kolakola. He would have reached the township last night, but we are yet to receive word from messengers.’

Ashoka’s heart sank. The witches would surely have been murdered by now, and the town...

He didn’t want to think about it, but the thoughts came prickling in like needles. Emperor Adil held no mercy for mayakari or mayakari sympathizers; Ashoka could only imagine what sort of horrors they would face. Or had faced.

Suddenly, there came an insistent knocking at his door. Sau immediately moved in front of his desk to obscure the books from view.

When Ashoka had Rahil open the door, a tall, muscular woman stepped inside. Ishka – one of Arush’s personal guards. Strands of her hair had come free of her plait, and her twin daggers jostled in their leather scabbards. Her tapered black trousers were coated in dust.

‘Ishka,’ he greeted her. ‘What brings you here?’ Arush rarely sent for him, which made this barge-in rather unexpected.

‘Prince Ashoka,’ she said with a bow. ‘I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but your presence is needed at the serpent pens – Sahry has gone out of control.’

He stood up quickly. ‘What happened?’ he asked. His winged serpent rarely turned recalcitrant, and if she did, it was due to someone else’s wrongdoing.

‘Prince Arush visited the pens,’ Ishka began, ‘and he tried to—’

‘Say no more,’ Ashoka interrupted firmly. Sahry had been provoked, then, which was infuriating. His instructions regarding the winged serpent had always been to leave her alone. By some anomaly, he was the only person she obeyed. It was why Ashoka was the only one allowed to saddle her, ride her, and sometimes even feed her. ‘Let me calm her down.’

Sau rapped her knuckles on his desk. ‘I’m going to stay here,’ she said. ‘You will never find me approaching those terrors.’

‘Be my guest,’ Ashoka replied. ‘Rahil, Ishka – come with me.’

He was out the door in moments.

The serpent pens were tall wooden structures, each built to twice the height of a coconut tree, and wide enough to accommodate three dozen soldiers. Winged serpents were at least five times the height of a grown adult. The floors were covered in straw, dead leaves and rotting bark, with inbuilt stone caving to help the cold-blooded creatures maintain warmth during the cooler nights. There were twelve serpents present altogether, all imported from Kalinga as the species was not found in the Ran Empire.

Three personally belonged to the Maurya children. The remainder were reserved for select soldiers and messengers to relay communications to controlled provinces quickly. Out of his siblings, Ashoka was the one who spent the most time with his serpent. Flying with Sahry gave him a freedom that went beyond what he was usually afforded. Up in the clouds, there was no one to obey. Up in the clouds, he bowed to no master.

When he arrived just outside the pens, he was greeted by pandemonium, with soldiers rushing about. Ashoka spotted his older brother immediately. He towered like a giant over the guards that surrounded him. Arush’s thin gold circlet threatened to dislodge itself from his hair as he ducked, narrowly avoiding Sahry’s left wing that would have sent him flying. The serpent’s eyes were paper-thin slits, forked tongue slipping threateningly in and out. She’d somehow been freed from her bonds, and was trying to attack anyone within sight.

Arush saw him and pointed to Sahry. His eyes were wide open. ‘Control your beast, little brother!’ he yelled.

The soldiers were giving her a wide berth, some moving to protect Arush with shields while the others trained a nervous eye on her fangs. Despite being drained of venom every month, Sahry was the only one of the palace’s winged serpents that continued to replenish her stores. At her most violent, she could sink her fangs into flesh and paralyse within seconds. It made approaching her difficult for anyone that wasn’t Ashoka.

Why is she so agitated now?

‘What did you do?’ he asked Arush as he came to a halt in front of him, disconcerted by Sahry’s agitation.

Arush had the gall to appear confused. Unbothered, even. ‘I was merely appraising her scales,’ he said. ‘This is not my fault. The beast couldn’t control itself.’

Frustration threatened to erupt like an earthquake, but Ashoka compressed it without a second thought. ‘Sahry would not become so agitated at a mere appraisal ,’ he replied as her ferocious hisses filled the air. There was a slight whoosh and a rattle of chains as her membranous wings flapped about. Her fangs began to drip a honey-coloured liquid. ‘What were you doing, Arush?’

At first, Arush did not reply. Only when Sahry’s chains clanged again did he flinch and shake his head. ‘I wanted to study her blood,’ he admitted. ‘It was a harmless experiment.’

Ashoka forced himself to calm. He guessed that Arush had somehow taken an interest in the serpent’s continuously replenishing store of venom. At times, Arush lacked all common sense. Anyone with a working brain in the palace knew not to rouse Sahry – had he forgotten? Knowing Arush’s penchant for recklessness, he wouldn’t put it past him.

‘Stay back,’ he ordered the guards who appeared all too happy to obey. All except Rahil. Even though he of all people knew how temperamental Sahry was, he moved in front of Ashoka to guard him.

Gently, Ashoka grabbed Rahil’s wrist. When he turned around, he shot him a wry smile. ‘How do you expect to save me?’ he asked. ‘From my own serpent, no less.’

Something flickered behind Rahil’s eyes like he just remembered what sort of situation this was. ‘Apologies,’ he said. ‘I forgot for a moment that you do not need my protection.’

Lies. He always needed Rahil’s protection – just not here. For once, he was in control.

‘Stay back,’ he repeated, watching Rahil’s posture tense despite his acquiescence. He would be watching Ashoka like a hawk, that he knew, ready to step in should he need to.

A preternatural calm took over Ashoka as he approached Sahry. Careful not to stand beneath her venom splatter, he called out her name and an order.

‘Sahry, peace.’ She would recognize his voice. Winged serpents had poor eyesight, only sensing the world through vibrations in the air, and with their tongues.

Sure enough, at the sound of his voice, the venom dripping from her fangs slowed, but she was still agitated. Ashoka craned his neck up, examining her from head to tail. It was only when his eyes strayed to the underbelly that he found that it had been scored. Sahry was bleeding.

Why was Arush intent on causing him unnecessary trouble?

‘You hurt her,’ he said loudly. As Sahry retracted her fangs, he made a slow path, sidestepping puddles on the ground. They’d need to be cleaned after he got her to calm down. Her tongue flicked out, and he felt it skim his arm quickly like a bird had just flitted past him. ‘Sahry, it’s Ashoka.’

Sahry froze the moment he stood under the shadow of her head and placed his palm over the wound. It wasn’t deep, but he could understand why she had become disturbed. Arush’s apathetic curiosity had hurt something and now Ashoka had to fix it. Typical. He rubbed his serpent’s underbelly in slow, circular motions, feeling her relax bit by bit. Good – no one was hurt, and she could be looked after. He continued his ministrations until he was able to guide her back into her pen.

‘Bring me a salve, please,’ he called out to the guards. Absently, he noted the awestruck expressions on their faces. ‘Do not approach me with it. Place it exactly where you are, and I will retrieve it myself.’

When two of Arush’s guards ran off to bring him the medicament, Ashoka turned his attention back to his brother. ‘You’re lucky Sahry didn’t kill you or your guards.’

‘She needs to be tamed,’ was Arush’s only reply.

Ashoka gritted his teeth. ‘She was perfectly docile until someone decided to study her blood.’

His brother shrugged listlessly. ‘Simple curiosity, little brother,’ he said. ‘The amount of antivenom Sahry could make is very profitable.’

Profitable. Ashoka couldn’t believe it. ‘Is this what you’ve learned from father?’ he shot back. ‘To prioritize profits?’

‘Don’t be foolish,’ he replied. Fast. Short. It made for difficult verbal spars. Ashoka wanted to retort ‘ You’re foolish ’ but it would only make him appear childish. His siblings already saw him as a na?ve young man, there was no point in furthering their beliefs. Whatever anger Ashoka held, he let it vanish. He didn’t want to bother with Arush any more, not when Sahry needed his attention.

‘Leave us, brother,’ he said. ‘Let me tend to my serpent, and never attempt to hurt her again.’

His tone hardened at ‘ never ’. The word came out with the lethality of a hunter. He saw Arush’s cool mask break for a moment, saw Rahil’s lips tilt upward.

‘How will you govern well if you do not understand the importance of an asset, little brother?’ asked Arush. ‘It seems you are the one who should learn from father.’

Ashoka had half a mind to ask Arush what exactly he’d done during his governorship that was of consequence but held himself back.

‘Leave us, brother,’ Ashoka repeated. Shooting him a contemptuous glance, Arush turned and motioned for his guards to follow. Ashoka waited patiently until he was sure they’d gone before he squatted, hugging his knees to his chest. Above him, Sahry was quiet. Perhaps she sensed his frustration gathering like storm clouds, for she ducked her head until they were face-to-face, filmy green eyes watching dark brown ones.

‘I’m sorry he hurt you,’ Ashoka whispered.

In response, Sahry flicked her forked tongue over the crown of his head. While Arush and Aarya sometimes struggled to control their winged serpents, he had found a sense of satisfaction at being able to understand his. She was just as much his master as he was hers. It did not serve him well to assume that an intelligent creature such as this would be submissive.

‘He infuriates me,’ Ashoka muttered when a pair of footsteps approached him.

‘Then fight back,’ said Rahil. His sandalwood scent was a sensory balm.

‘No, I won’t.’

He wasn’t surprised when his father’s voice badgered him immediately after. You won’t fight back? Pathetic. How will you ever be exemplary when you cannot do something so simple?

His brain felt ready to explode from the confines of his skull. Emperor Adil’s voice was always at the back of his mind, lying in wait like a panther to criticize him for even a simple mistake. Ashoka pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead, the pressure allowing him a moment of respite.

Little things like this had the tendency to fray his sanity. Sometimes, he wished that he was not born a prince, a Maurya. Having to deal with chaos-causing siblings and a violent-tempered father for the rest of his life was a nightmare.

Rahil handed him the salve, and Ashoka began to lather it over Sahry’s wound.

Being able to live a peaceful life was not something he envisioned, not when he knew his duty to be the sparest of spares. Like the mayakari, he needed to use impermanence to justify his existence. He needed to be better than these petty fights.