Storm cast Draupadi a look of scorn. ‘I see you enjoying five husbands, all lusting for you. The power you have! And yet I see you weeping every day. And you a Princess!’ Storm spat at her feet to show what she thought of Draupadi. ‘You wanted to know about the Silver Wolves,’ she said, lifting the sword from Draupadi’s throat, ‘and now you know it!’

Draupadi felt like she had been slapped. Tears shone in her eyes. She wanted to scream at Storm the torture of being passed around like goods, from one man to another, with no thought for what she wanted. To be driven to the point when she prayed to Prakioni and Ratih for the turn of the moon so that her moon-blood would keep her husbands away from her.

Draupadi wanted to scream all this to Storm, but all she said was, ‘I would like to accompany you on one of your patrols, Storm, if that is alright.’ Draupadi had not been permitted to bring any handmaidens from Panchal. Storm, gruff as she was, was the only girl here she knew from Panchal. A Princess wins over her subjects with love and care, she had been taught. She would do just that.

Storm had not expected such a response. Disarmed, she managed to stutter, ‘As you command, My Lady.’ Looking away, she said, ‘Seven pardons for my unwise words. The swaying palanquin gives me the aches. I am dizzy, and I feel sick. But that is no excuse. I should not have misspoken so.’

Draupadi smiled. Love and care. ‘There is nothing to pardon,’ she said kindly. ‘I am merely anxious to meet Lady Satyabhama, and wanted to know more before meeting her in person.’

‘Nothing to worry on that front, My Lady,’ Storm said. ‘She is as soft as a petal.’

II

From the goat trail that ran beyond Mathura into the dry hills, the Three Sisters looked daunting. Or rather, the Iron Curfew, for Draupadi could not see the other two walls from where she was. Above her, the wind was a living thing, howling around them like a hound. Around her, serving girls stood in well trained silence, holding a fluttering silk awning over her head. Beside her, Storm helped herself to a small withered brown apple. In the distance, Satyabhama, in leather shirt and breeches, sewn with bronze scales, and a two-handed greatsword slung across her back in a leather sheath, stood frowning down at the pass.

The sun had not set but the stars were already in the sky. They seemed brighter here. ‘The stars and the sky look so beautiful,’ Draupadi said with a sigh.

‘I hate the sun, the stars and the sky, all of it.’ Storm spat out a seed. She had grown chatty ever since they had stepped out of the palanquin. ‘Stars remind me I have to camp out tonight…sleep on the cold, hard ground. The sky reminds me of the only window I had in the well where my father left me when I disobeyed him.’