“May I continue to read it for you?” Anjee asked.
I nodded, too overcome to speak, and handed her the letter.
I pray this letter reaches you in good health.
I have missed you, little star. So often I wondered if you would remember me. Or your mother. At night, I searched the skies that Khair showed you and hoped you would be safe.
I must begin with a truth that weighs heavily on my heart: your mother, my beloved daughter, passed from this world shortly after your father died. Her death was sudden, occurring after you and your brother were taken from the palace—a broken heart, the physicians claimed. Whatever lies you have been told about my court, believe none of them. Someone murdered your father. Someone close to him.
I startled at the news, but Anjee kept reading.
I couldn’t listen any further, the weight of grief pressing down on me like a stone until I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor, keening with grief.
My mother was truly gone. The faint hope I had carried—the hope of finding her alive—was now extinguished. I bowed my head, the tears now finally slipping free.
Anjee’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder, her grip comforting as that of a friend. She joined me on the floor.
Summoning my courage, I turned back to the letter, scanning its contents carefully even though I struggled to comprehend the beautiful script. Anjee resumed reading, the next words making my heart pound.
For many years I sent letters to you and your brother, hoping one might reach you, but no reply ever came. Then word spread that you both had died. In my sorrow I believed it, and I laid aside my attempts to find you. Imagine, then, my astonishment when years ago, a single letter came from you. Then, silence, no matter how much I wrote. Six months ago a package arrived containing some of your childhoodwritings. When Sir Henry Russell himself confirmed that you are truly alive, my joy knew no bounds.
You are my flesh and blood, little star, though your grandfather tried to twist you from my grasp. Come to me in Hyderabad. I invite you as my guest, under the full protection of my household. I will send an escort, as agreed with Sir Henry. Trust no one else. There are truths about your mother and dangers still lingering that I must share with you in person. Know this above all: You are not forgotten, and you are loved.
By the grace of Allah,
Sharaf-un-Nissa Begum
Begum of Hyderabad and Guardian of Khair-un-Nissa’s Lineage
Anjee glanced toward the door as if expecting trouble to burst in at any moment. “She fears for you. Since the seal was broken, someone else knows what she has written. She cannot travel to you either.”
She had sent other letters. No doubt they were intercepted, just as Edward’s and mine had been. I knew who had kept us separated. My hatred for him only grew stronger.
“Surely my grandmother could travel under proper escort, if Sebastian and I were to arrange it,” I demanded.
Anjee shook her head, the golden bangles on her wrist chiming faintly. “It is not so simple, memsahib. A woman of her station—especially one like Sharaf-un-Nissa Begum—cannot leave the confines of her home so freely. She observes purdah, the tradition of seclusion. To venture beyond the walls of her estate without the utmost necessity would be seen as unbecoming of her position.”
I folded my hands tightly in my lap, Anjee’s explanation sparking a mixture of frustration and guilt. “So because of these rules, she must remain a prisoner in her own home?”
“It is not viewed as imprisonment,” Anjee said as she swept away the tea service. “It is a way of preserving honor and dignity, especially for women of noble lineage. To step outside without cause would invite scrutiny and gossip. For your grandmother, it is as much about protecting her family’s reputation as it is about her own safety.”
I disagreed. My grandfather had done much the same to me at Seven Oakes. But Anjee’s disapproval was yet another reminder of how I struggled to fit in either world.
Still, I could not shake my grandmother’s warning. What did she mean,trust no one else?
“But I am her family,” I said, the words escaping with a bite I hadn’t intended.
Anjee softened. “She knows this. That is why she has written to you instead. To summon you, if you are willing, and to ensure your journey is conducted with the highest respect for tradition. It is the only way she can meet you without jeopardizing her standing.”
I looked down at the letter resting in my lap, the elegant script carrying words I could scarcely comprehend. The invitation to reconnect warmed me, but the obstacles between us felt as insurmountable as the distance itself.
My stomach churned from the gravity of the situation.
Whatever secrets my grandmother held, fate wouldn’t keep them hidden for long.
Sebastian’s absence loomed large in that moment, and I wished desperately for his strength and reassurance this evening.
Later that night, I stood on the veranda and stared at the heavens, absent of stars and moon. Clouds obscured the velvety blanket.
