days to come. But the flickerings of samadhi that she had taken for granted now came rarely. Soon, disgusted with the circuitous and vexing thoughts that made meditation sheer misery, she reduced her daily practice to hatha yoga and pranayama. Fear spread its clammy tentacles through mind and body, and, as time dragged on, it took increasing determination to maintain a serene façade. Then, one hazy afternoon as she sat out in her gardens flanked by Ketaki and Mandakini, a guardsman cantered up the drive carrying a missive from the Maharaja.

Ishvari’s hands trembled with excitement as she unrolled the scroll. My tantrika, she read out loud, the mountains simmer with the heat of battle and yet I find myself enjoying the role of warrior king—for this cold air intoxicates me with...

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