Ashna hugged Nisha, who stood to display her adorable baby bump, which seemed to have doubled since Ashna had seen her last, then turned to Esha to see if she was up for a hug. She wasn’t, but she squeezed Ashna’s hand and made one of her declarations. “Being in public needs armor.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Esha wasn’t just incredibly wise; she was also clairvoyant. There was no armor from her sight, and what she saw always came true. Ashna had a sense that Esha not only saw but also felt her pain, no matter how hard Ashna tried to hide it. She sat down next to Esha, careful not to touch her except for the firm grip Esha’s soft hand still had on hers.

Esha had suffered seizures ever since the plane crash she’d been in when she was eight. The accident had killed the other thirty passengers on the family’s private jet, including Esha’s parents. Esha had been the miraculous sole survivor. No one could explain how that had happened, or why the seizures and visions had started after.

HRH and Mina Kaki had brought Esha to California before word of her clairvoyance leaked out of the Sripore palace. Just the rumors had caused lines to form outside the palace gates for one look at the “Little Goddess” even as the poor little goddess went into seizure after seizure at the least stimulation.

Staying within the Anchorage estate and restricting contact to only the family had finally minimized the seizures.

“So, what is this about being a TV star?” Esha said with mischief in her smile.

Nisha poured tea from Aji’s china service, a blend Ashna mixed specially for her grandmother that she called “Aji’s Hug,” and Ashna found herself smiling as she filled them in on China and Trisha’s midnight visit and offer.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to do it.” Nisha rubbed her belly. She’d had to slow down her work. With her history of miscarriages, she was being cautious. It had to be hard given that she ran Yash’s campaign and the election was less than a year away, with the California primary nipping at their heels.

“Have you found someone to help you with the campaign yet?” Ashna asked, only partially deflecting. She wished she could help, but strategy and politics were alien to her. Asking people why they wouldn’t vote for the best man they would ever meet in their pathetic lives was not a workable approach.

Nisha let out a long-suffering sigh and popped one of their grandmother’s ladoos into her mouth. “The last guy who seemed promising tried to ‘handle’ Yash. He also tried to tell him that his policies were too complex for the simpleminded voter. You can imagine how that went.”