She sought out Isha, who was now gulping down water, spilling some of it down the front of her dress. Her hair was disheveled and sweaty from all the “dancing” she’d been doing. Clearly Isha had no interest in reforming her ways. Robotics engineering, flirting with that boy, dancing completely inappropriately. Why did Isha care so much about such trivial things? Why couldn’t she just conform?

There were so many things Jaya wanted to say, but she wouldn’t say them now. She didn’t want to make a scene. Besides, she was a little… weary. Taking care of Isha, making sure she didn’t do yet another unsuitable thing, shielding her from another impending scandal, was a full-time job. And sometimes, very occasionally, Jaya felt a little resentful of all that responsibility. Sometimes she caught herself thinking, I’m only eighteen. I really don’t care about whether or not Isha’s skirt is too short. Let her do whatever she damn well pleases.

Only very rarely, and only when she wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said to Isha now. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

Isha waved at her. “Yeah, that’s fine—oh my God, did Stewart just stuff an entire tray of salmon mousse canapés into his mouth?” She squealed and ran over to her friends.

Sighing, Jaya walked to the French doors.

Grey

Two more rubies. Two more rubies were gone. And it had happened when he was dancing with Jaya Rao. As if the old Rao matriarch were laughing at him. It wasn’t a coincidence; it couldn’t be. The pendant had to be the one. Grey pushed his hair back, angry. What kind of world was this, where he was held responsible for the repugnant actions of his ancestors?

He groaned in agonized frustration as he strode off, pissed at himself. Why had he danced with her? Why had he even come to this fucking mixer in the first place?

Grey followed the twists and turns of the West Wing blindly, letting his furiousness with himself guide him. His hands shook; he had a problem when it came to Jaya Rao. He always said too much. He felt like he was constantly on the verge of blurting everything out, like his lips were a faltering dam against his words. He remembered his father saying, all those years ago, You’re… different. You’ll always be different. The Raos have seen to that. This is your burden to bear.