He stood with Nayan in a screened-off corner of the grand outdoor pavilion, waiting for an attendant to summon them. The two of them looked like nobles in their matching red-and-gold sherwanis, father and son, and Nayan held the silver tasseled tube containing the rolled-up tapestry. Today should be Venkat’s moment of triumph; he was about to reveal his secret talent to the entire realm. Together, he and Nayan would undo the ancient mistake that had caused so much grief.

But all Venkat could think of was his poor dream runners—and Tanvi. He hadn’t been able to stop the guards from taking the kids elsewhere, on what they claimed were Madhu’s orders. At least Tanvi had managed to pass herself off as his personal guest for the wedding before the guards escorted her out.

But what if Madhu had figured out who Nitya really was?

Restless, Venkat peered out from behind the partition.

Guests in their finest silks and jewels milled about the pavilion, so many that they might have been their own city. Their anticipation hissed in the air like the uptick in wind before a storm, seemingly not disturbed by the phalanxes of armed guards shoehorned in among them.

Just beyond the pavilion, architects had constructed the mandap, its four golden pillars and rose-bedecked golden ceiling set atop a dais generously strewn with a variety of blossoms. Filmy red curtains had been tied back from each pillar, and two matching thrones sat at the rear. A patterned havan kund had been positioned in front of the thrones, primed for the sacred fire that would soon be kindled in it.

Asha rested in the throne on the left, impossibly regal in her scarlet wedding choli with its golden sequins and beads and gold ribbon trim. White dots arced over both her brows, surrounding her ornate ruby bindi, and a spiderweb-thin gold chain led from her hair to a large gold ring in her left nostril. Jasmine and marigolds wove through her loose bun like tiny starbursts, her large eyes had been outlined in kajal, and her lips were a spectacular rouge. Intricate mehndi patterns of serpents and leaves wound over her hands and wrists, peeking out from between the plethora of gold-and-red bangles, while each individual scale of her coils had been flecked with gold.

She was stunning, an ethereal beauty radiant with joy and flanked by loving parents.

Venkat, though, saw through Asha’s brilliant smile to the private sorrow beneath. She would do her duty as a princess, but her heart was with Sameer. Or at least off having adventures.

For his part, Chintu looked bored in his ivory-and-gold turban and cream-colored sherwani. He mustered a weak grin for the crowd, one undercut by his lazy slump against his lofty seat.