Sikander didn’t miss my reaction, and the tension fled his face. He looked away, but I thought I saw tears glistening in his eyes. He choked out, “I’ll fetch the doctor,” and stood to go.
“No, wait.” I reached for him, struggling to sit up, but that sent a flare of pain through my hips and down my legs that had me plastering myself against the bed and gasping for breath.
“Your highness, you’re not supposed to get out of bed yet!” Sikander exclaimed. He pressed my shoulders down with gentle hands. “The doctor says if you move too much, you’ll set back your recovery.”
I sighed as the pain passed, though the nausea it had provoked in my stomach took a moment or two longer. When it finally dissipated I took a few slow, steadying breaths, and glanced up at Sikander, who was holding my hand, his dark eyes full of worry. “How about that story?”
He let out an exasperated noise that was half sigh and half laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What story shall I tell you, your highness?”
I considered for a moment, and the answer came to me sooner than I’d expected. “When I came to rescue Lakshmi in Ahura, you and Viputeshwar were crying. Why?”
His cheeks reddened slightly. “It’s not a very interesting story, your highness. It’s nothing you don’t already know.”
“I want to hear it anyway,” I insisted, because I’d never in my life seen Sikander cry and now I’d seen it twice—once in Ahura and once just a moment ago, when his eyes had been brimming with tears at the way I’d reacted to him.
“Well, when we arrived in Ahura, I kept close to Princess Lakshmi as you ordered,” he began, and I immediately found myself smiling. Princess Lakshmi? Did he really call her that, or was he just saying it for my benefit? The way he paused, confused by my reaction, gave me the answer.
“And?” I pressed, gesturing for him to continue.
“And Viputeshwar came to serve us once we’d been shown to Princess Lakshmi’s chambers,” he said. “At first I tried to keep him away from her, but he was very kind to her, and he treated her with respect. When I remarked on that, he told me the story of his sister, the same story he told you when you arrived in Rajkot for the first time. He told me of how she’d been murdered and how the greatest regret of his life was not being there for her in her moment of need.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes and rubbing my hand with a strength that frankly surprised me. “And I told him of my greatest regret. I told him how I treated you as a child, and how when you called for me, when you needed me most, I . . .”
Sikander looked up at the ceiling as if by tilting his head he could somehow get the tears to flow back into his skull. “I know you can never forgive me, your highness, but—”
“That’s not true,” I interrupted.
“What?” he asked, his head snapping around, his glassy eyes staring into mine.
“Sikander, you’ve never asked me to forgive you,” I reminded him. I didn’t say what I could have said—that he’d never admitted to having done anything wrong. Not until today, and even now it was indirect, an admission of regret, but not of wrongdoing.
For a long moment, he was totally silent, just staring at the bedsheets, and I wondered if he would actually ask for forgiveness or not. I had just about given up hope when he said, “I don’t think I ever really understood how courageous you are until today.”
“Today?” I asked, wrinkling my nose in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much courage it took to . . .” He trailed off, fighting for the words that he’d probably never needed before in his whole life. He sighed with frustration. “It’s one thing to fly into battle, your highness; it’s something else to ask for forgiveness when you don’t deserve it.”
“It’s not about deserving it, Sikander,” I replied. “It’s about having the courage to ask for it.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “You shame me with your wisdom, your highness.” He stroked the back of my hand with the rough pad of his thumb and said, “I’m so sorry for what I did, and what I didn’t do when you were a child, your highness. When I told Viputeshwar what I’d done, when I told him how badly I had failed you, do you know what he said?”
I shook my head, holding back the tears that were threatening in my eyes now, because he’d finally said he was sorry. He’d finally admitted it was wrong. God, I’d waited so long to hear those words. It was like something suddenly solidified in my heart, as if the world were suddenly rectified, because it meant I wasn’t crazy. I hadn’t been wrong to be hurt by what he’d done, I hadn’t been wrong to be who I was.
“He said that his sister was dead, but my daughter was still alive,” Sikander whispered.
“Your daughter?” I wondered why I’d never heard of her before. I’d thought the man had never married. Had he been living a secret home life that he’d never told me about? If he had been, I didn’t know where he would have found the time.
Sikander took one look at my confused face and gasped out, “Forgive my presumption, your highness. I know that I’m just a servant to you, but . . .”
I realized then that he’d been talking about me. I reached forward and placed my hand over
