Esmera had thought Tauram's mountainside cottage was fancy with its dull sheets of metal manipulated into little yaks standing on the server and china vases filled with Himalayan musk roses, but although cosy, it was simple compared to a mansion that housed nobility.

She merely stared around her in open-mouthed disbelief as the guards at the door to the Vinsingh's manor allowed Lady Hetal past. The end of the deep purple fabric draped around her plump frame flew out behind her as she pulled Belaren along, her bright-winged familiar hovering above them.

Tauram led Esmera through a passage formed by varnished wooden pillars topped by elaborate clusters of leaves and plums that glistened as though they were the real thing. The white tiles were so polished Esmera could see her reflection in them. Lady Hetal led them past a wall covered in family photographs too quickly for Esmera to spot Belaren in them, then around a golden statue of a man Esmera didn't recognise. He wore a turban, a shirt and something that looked like a skirt. A large moustache dominated the lower half of his face.

"Belaren's grandfather," murmured Tauram, probably feeling the pull of Esmera's hand on his as she lagged him, studying the set of the mouth and the line of the brow and trying to figure out why it looked so familiar to her.

Of course. She had seen the same features in Belaren, only they were in flesh and blood and colour rather than gold.

"Though he was a human before they made him a statue." Tauram grinned.

Esmera rolled her eyes even as she fought a smile. "I figured."

"Did you?" Tauram tilted his head. "Because you were staring at him as though you were expecting him to step off his pedestal and welcome you to his humble abode."

Esmera elbowed him. How was it her fault that the man had been recreated with such care, with every hair etched onto his moustache and every wrinkle set into his face to the point that he could be a real person rather than the sculpted image of one?

Tauram laughed breathlessly, too softly for anyone but Esmera to hear him. She liked these little moments when it was just the two of them, when he let down his guard and she saw him smile like he must've before he lost everything he loved.

She'd help him win it all back just so he could smile like that again. Even if his being king would mean he'd no longer have time for those jokes that were so hilariously bad that they were good. Even if his reuniting with Ghallia would mean he'd never look Esmera's way again.

She frowned at the sobering thought. She had known she was doing this for herself so that she could learn the truth about her family and for the people of Milatanur, so they could live lives as long as they had been destined to be, but she had never realised that she was doing this for Tauram so that he could claim back the life he had lost and so longed for.

Her hand tightened around his. She had never thought of what their victory over King Ruagu would mean. She had never realised that their accomplishing this mission might mean her never seeing Tauram again, and before now, she might not even have cared.

But she did. Too much for a woman who had only known him a few days. Too much for a woman who had just hacked her way out of a poisonous attachment.

Tauram gazed down at her, brows furrowed in concern, but he never got to speak his thoughts because, at that moment, they stepped into a room filled with light after Lady Hetal and Belaren.

Twittering, Lady Hetal's familiar fluttered away.

"I'll see you after breakfast, Nritya!" she called back.

Once Esmera blinked away the brightness, she saw that she was in a dining room. A long wooden table crossed the length of it.

What caught her attention first was the absence of familiars. She had never seen a sorcerer in Milatanur without an animal by their side, but they had all probably joined Lady Hetal's familiar wherever they were kept while during the family's mealtimes.

Esmera's eyes traced along the trail of bronze plates offering what looked like crepes, flatbread and a variety of soups with the most mouth-watering aromas. Her gaze landed on the group of five people sitting at the end of the table, staring at the newcomers with a mixture of expressions on their faces.

"Belaren Vinsingh. Now there's a face I never thought I'd see again." The woman sitting at the head of the table stood, her dark orange sari uncrinkling itself as she did. Like Lady Hetal's, it wound around her body, a gleaming sheet of colour, but unlike hers, it was embroidered with gold at the edges.

There was a lot of Belaren in this woman's face, from the arched eyebrows to the sharp cheekbones and the silky hair falling down her back, even in the sharpness in her dark eyes.

Belaren knew it too. "Hey, you see my face every day in the mirror."

A smile played on her thin lips. "You would do well to remember that I have the power to banish you from this estate if I choose to."

"You wouldn't." Belaren feigned horror.

"I don't need to." The woman's eyes glimmered as she replied, as cool as Belaren could sometimes be. "It seems you just exile yourself when you feel like it."

The room went as silent as if it was suddenly gagged. Everyone at the table stared down at their plates. Lady Hetal looked between Belaren and the woman, pressing her painted lips closed against the words that seemed to be straining at them.

"Come, take a seat. Your friends are invited too." The woman's words were welcoming, embracing, almost, but her tone was not.

Esmera might've said she needed some air just to leave the room if Tauram hadn't pulled her after him to an empty chair at the table.

"Esmera, this is my charming sister Lady Varali." As bright as Belaren's smile was, it was so forced that Esmera couldn't bear to look at it. "Tauram, you know her already, of course." Belaren set his hand on the back of the chair beside his mother, across the table from Esmera and the prince.

Of course they all knew each other, long before they knew of Esmera and certainly way before she knew of them.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the chairs squeaking against the floor as the newcomers dragged them away from the table and settled into them.

On Tauram's one side sat a teenage boy who couldn't seem to look away from Belaren. Like Lady Varali, he too shared Belaren's dark skin, bold brows and silken hair. On Tauram's other side, Esmera felt the ice in the small smile Lady Varali sent his way.

"It's good to see you again, Tauram."

"The pleasure is all mine, Varali." The prince squirmed in his chair as he sent a tight grin towards the head of the table.

Lady Varali's sharp eyes stayed on him as she broke off a piece of her flatbread and dipped it into the small bowl of golden-brown lentil soup that sat at the centre of her plate. "So kind of you to return my brother to me."

Tauram said nothing. In his place, Esmera wouldn't know what to say either. Again, the words didn't match Lady Varali's bearing. It sounded like an expression of gratitude, but she said it as though she spoke of a grudge.

Esmera shifted in her seat.

Lady Varali gestured to a nearby servant who immediately straightened and adjusted the bronze belt moulding her tunic to her narrow waist.

"Some tea for our guests, please."

Esmera could use some tea. She glanced at Tauram and Belaren. Neither of their faces gave anything away even while she was sure her eagerness showed on hers. She hadn't mastered the covert, silent warfare of politics the way they had.

She wasn't sure if Belaren and Tauram would welcome a cup of tea on this brisk morning as she would, but even if they wouldn't, she didn't think they'd dare argue with Lady Varali. The lady had yet to speak to Esmera directly, and even she was afraid of her.

The servant nodded and disappeared out of the dining room, the fabric of her uniform swishing as she hurried.

"You know" –Lady Varali folded her food into her mouth and chewed. Only when she swallowed did she speak again. "You've missed a lot. I got married." Her dark eyes settled on Belaren, an unspoken accusation in them.

If Esmera had a brother to miss her wedding, maybe she'd have carried the same resentment, but she didn't. She had never even known her brothers even though she would give anything to do so. If she was Lady Varali, she would've run into Belaren's arms or at least welcomed him to her dining table with genuine hospitality.

"Ah, the baron from Lahikar." Belaren was as unruffled as always as he exchanged a nod with the man occupying the seat opposite him and beside Lady Varali. "I remember we were arranging your marriage when I left. I wish- I wish I had gotten to see it."

The man smiled back until he caught Lady Varali glaring at him. His smile slid off his face, and he turned his focus to the doughy white circles on his plate.

"You have two nieces now." Lady Varali gestured between the girls sitting on her left side.

They both wore their hair in long, gleaming braids that Esmera couldn't see the ends of no matter how far forward she leaned. They wore identical parsis. The only difference was that the older one's outfit was yellow while the younger one wore lime. "My daughters Hansika and Canadhya."

As if on cue, both girls gave Belaren perfect, rehearsed smiles that he struggled to return.

"Our brother Rihan isn't a baby anymore if you didn't notice." Varali gestured at the boy across the table, the one who looked as though Belaren must've nearly twenty years ago.

Belaren and the boy stared at each other, identical dark eyes scanning each other, identical dark brows furrowing.

"Hello." Belaren swallowed, probably to buy himself time.

Esmera didn't blame him. She certainly wouldn't know what to say to a brother who had been a baby when she last saw him, but like he always seemed to do, Belaren found the words.

"I don't expect you to remember me, but I'm your brother Belaren." The lord held out his hand.

Rihan shook the hand Belaren extended. "I've heard of you. I've seen the photographs," he said, his voice as soft as the hint of a smile on his mouth.

Varali's sharp voice sliced through the moment. "Remember when we took Rihan to SUAF to get his familiar? You met that lovely little receptionist that day. If I had known she would soon drive you out of Milatanur, I would've nipped the whole affair in the bud." Just like her eyes, her voice was a knife, matching her words for the first time since Esmera had been in her company.

"Anjarah didn't drive me out. I chose to leave." Belaren squared his shoulders.

Varali took the golden spoon from the edge of her plate and stirred the lentil soup in its bowl. "Because she married Mingei instead of you, and you couldn't handle it."

That was true. Anjarah had driven Belaren out of Milatanur whether she had meant to or not. Esmera and Tauram both knew it. That was why they kept their eyes on the porcelain cups the servant set before them and filled with tea that sent a warm spiciness spiralling into the air above it. That was why Belaren made no reply.

They knew the truth of why Anjarah had broken off her engagement to Belaren, but Lady Varali didn't. Even if she did, Esmera didn't think that she'd understand or even try to, judging from the way she had spoken of Anjarah.

That was Belaren's battle for a later stage, when the fate of Milatanur didn't hang in the balance.

Lady Varali set her spoon back at the edge of her plate, fixing her eyes on the bowl of soup at the centre of it. "You know, Appa died wishing more than anything you'd come through the door, if only in time to say goodbye. You selfishly left us, and now you dare to come through my doors, joking as if nothing had happened."

Belaren looked down at his lap, squeezing his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Vari."

"Your apology doesn't change the fact that I single-handedly held this family together for nearly a decade because you were a selfish, lovesick coward. So, just tell me what you want, and then you can get out of my house." She raised her blazing eyes to Belaren. "I know you didn't come here just to say hello."

The implication in her statement was more powerful than if she had simply said it out loud. The way she saw it, Belaren would only come here if he needed something, not simply to reunite with his family.

Unfortunately, she was right.

Belaren took a deep, slow breath. "I need a favour from Ajai."

The mood in the room changed, turned solemn.

Lady Hetal took a trembling breath. Rihan fixed his eyes on the wooden elephant with a tea candle resting in the hollow carved into its back standing at the centre of the table. Lady Varali's husband took her hand while their daughters stared at her, eyes wide and afraid of something, but Esmera didn't know what. Lady Varali's fingers curled around his for just a moment before she released him.

Her hand trembled before she steadied it. She put the last bite of her food into her mouth, chewed and then swallowed, as if oblivious to the agony of Belaren as he awaited her answer. It was probably not that much different from the way she had felt when he left so suddenly all those years ago.

Lady Varali rose from the table, her spine as straight as a coat rack. "I can take you to him."

"Please ask him to come down and see us." Belaren remained in his seat, clasping his hands on the table. "I wouldn't want to impose on you any more than I already have."

Lady Varali pressed her lips together. "You either take my offer or leave it. You don't get to negotiate it."

Belaren narrowed his eyes. "I think I have the right to request an audience with my own brother on my terms."

Lady Varali said nothing, just stared him down. He held her gaze. Neither of them would've budged if Esmera didn't first.

She was the first to her feet.
Ajai must be the memory walker Belaren intended to request help from.

Only he could give Esmera the answers she sought more desperately than anyone else, the answers about her family and her birthright.

Belaren followed her lead with a resigned sigh. She started after Lady Varali with Tauram's hand on the small of her back.

The eyes of the rest of the Vinsingh family followed them out of the dining room and as far down the passage as they could reach.