It annoyed her, but she let it go for the sake of their friendship. They’d been friends for a year, ever since their families had spent the summer together in his family’s chalet in Switzerland.

So when her father had asked her to join him on his visit to Sripore she had agreed. Omar had gone back to England last week. She tried not to be one of those filmy melodramatic girls who acted all heartbroken when they were separated from their love. But truthfully, it’s how she felt on the inside. Like someone had smacked a ball into her chest with a bat, and it had become lodged there.

In a stroke of bad timing, her cricket coach was on vacation, so their team got two weeks off. Being plagued with boredom was Shoban’s worst nightmare. Her exams were finished and her applications were complete. This waiting to know if she’d get into Oxford or Cambridge so she could be near Omar was killing her.

She made her way to the cricket pitch. Taking a run down the wicket, she swung the ball into the net, flicking her wrist just as she let go. The ball shot a straight line for half the length of the pitch and then spun out and into a curve. If a batsman could have made contact with it, she would have been thoroughly impressed.

Her spin was getting better, but if her team was to have any hope of remaining undefeated until the state finals, she had to practice until it was flawless. She’d shattered the record for the most wickets at the state level, and if she weren’t off to university she had a real chance at making the national team. Bram had promised to help her practice and now he was nowhere to be found.

“Tai-saheb?” Flora, one of the maids, cleared her throat. She had waited until Shoban had released the ball before speaking.

Shoban smiled at her. “Hello.”

The girl returned her smile politely. The staff at the Sripore palace were impeccably trained. Her braid was pulled tightly back much like Shoban’s, and her kurta was white like Shoban’s. But where Shoban’s was intricately embroidered with white thread and she wore it over blue jeans, the girl’s was severely simple and she wore it over a traditional churidar.

Shoban wanted to ask if she’d mind playing cricket with her, but she wasn’t sure if the girl would consider her too spoiled for assuming she had nothing better to do with her time. So Shoban simply asked what she wanted.

“Your father would like to see you, Tai-saheb,” the girl said in polished Marathi.