PAVATI'S POV
The servant led me through corridors lined with portraits of stern-faced ancestors. Their painted eyes seemed to follow my movement, judging whether I belonged here. I smoothed my dress and tried to look like I had every right to be walking these halls.
We emerged into a garden that stretched farther than I could see in the fading light. Perfectly manicured hedges formed geometric patterns around flower beds bursting with colors I couldn't name. The air smelled like roses and something else, something expensive.
Four people stood on a wide lawn, holding wooden mallets. Wickets dotted the grass in what I assumed was some kind of pattern, though it made no sense to me. Three of them moved with the easy confidence of people who had been playing this game their entire lives. The fourth sat in a wheeled chair, wrapped in blankets despite the warm evening.
