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typically preferred—this one he only wore when he met with those
     much younger than he was.
    It wasn’t different enough that most people would notice. In fact, I appeared to be
     the only one who saw my father for what he truly was—a decrepit, skeletal corpse—a
     man as decayed on the outside as he was rotted on the inside. What could he possibly want with this young man? I wondered. Despite the fact that my every instinct told me to run away as quickly
     as possible, another part of me wanted to stay, wanted to stand between the handsome
     stranger and my father and protect him as I did Isha.
    The young man answered. “Your… summons didn’t give me leave to deny your request.”
    “And why would you? I assure you that this dialogue will be of vital importance to
     the future of both of our kingdoms.” My father smiled in a charming way that rooted
     me to the spot where I stood. “Perhaps you will allow me to introduce myself properly.”
     He bowed and held out his hand in a gesture of goodwill. “My name is Lokesh.”
    The young man ignored the offered hand. “I know who you are.”
    “Ah, I can see that my reputation precedes me.”
    “Indeed it does. Though I hope it is exaggerated, my impression is that it is not.”
    My father clucked his tongue. “Surely a warrior such as yourself knows that a sometimes
     admittedly shocking reputation can often serve to benefit its wielder just as much,
     if not perhaps more, than a finely made sword?”
    Folding his arms across his brawny chest, the stranger answered, “Yes. And I also
     know that the type of man willing to allow such a reputation to exist, whether it
     is true or not, is a man I would not have at my back.”
    Lokesh laughed in response. I’d never heard him laugh before, even facetiously, and
     as far as I could tell, his reaction was genuine. For some reason, the stranger’s
     answer delighted my father. The nervous feeling I had regarding the safety of the
     young man intensified by several degrees.
    “How clever. But, then again, I would expect no less of a Rajaram.”
    The young man’s eyes narrowed. “I sense that my time here has been wasted. We had
     been informed that this meeting would be regarding treaty negotiations. Instead, I
     find myself a guest at a women’s garden party where I am forced to watch pompous peacocks
     strut around in all their finery as they flatter, preen, and prance around, congratulating
     one another on the amount of gold stored in their coffers. The hour grows late, and
     as my intention is to leave with the sunrise, I would prefer to retire to my bedchamber
     for the few hours remaining until that time. If it is the recent skirmish you wish
     to discuss, then I would suggest you get on with it. If not, I will take my leave.”
    Lokesh’s eyes sparkled. “Kishan. May I call you that?” My father didn’t wait for approval
     but continued. “I can assure you that the recent”—he paused—“small scuffles between
     our troops, as trivial as they are, have indeed been on my mind. The fact that our
     two realms have been set at odds pains me, and I feel I must attempt to persuade you
     that I have in no way been the instigator of such treacherous acts.”
    The stranger said nothing, but his fists tightened, and the muscles in his arms flexed.
     He clearly didn’t believe the lies spilling from my father’s lips, at least not completely.
     I wasn’t sure what it was Lokesh had been doing in all of his secret campaigns, but
     it was now clear that he had malicious aims regarding this young man and his family.
     The fear I felt for him almost choked me. My body shook and my breathing became ragged.
    “No, Kishan. My purpose tonight is to put an end to any discontent and build a bridge
     between our people.”
    “And how do you propose we do that?” the stranger asked.
    Taking a step forward and raising his hand in such a way as to appear supplicating
     to the outsider, but was obviously