of spring water next to the mat and proceeded to bathe Ishvari’s feverish body with a moist cloth. “Breathe deep and slow, child,” she instructed gently. “Your heart beats too loud.”

It was true, Ishvari thought, her heart beat as loudly as the drum she sometimes heard in the middle of the night. Rigid as a corpse, she watched Sumangali make space for her purse behind a loose stone in the wall. It was clear why her mother had accepted the envoy’s selection—his gold would buy much more than just food, clothes and luxuries they had almost forgotten, and, after his clear warning to the villagers about her family’s new high status, Sumangali would be safe from Ghora.

Trapped alone in a chasm between discordant worlds, Ishvari fell asleep. In the dream that came to...

Please subscribe to keep reading.