The Mosquito and the Lion

five

For a few minutes, they listened silently to the water trickling into the pond and the occasional song of a bird. Alia trained her eyes on the bright orange fish, too scared to meet the Queen's gaze. What would she see in them? Did she even want a mother?

Alia remembered her early years in the orphanage, how she would dutifully plait her hair into two braids, put on her finest salwar kameez, and wait patiently at the door. Someone will pick me! She would shout to the older girls who poked fun at her naivete.

And every night, when no one adopted her, she would trod sullenly to her room, undo her braids, and cry herself to sleep. Eventually — and Alia did not remember when exactly — she became one of those mean older girls.

Eventually, she grew so frightened of change that she hid in a kitchen cupboard.

But that had been the only way to survive the orphanage. The hope would have killed her otherwise.

Maybe it was time to hope again.

"Are you–" She bit her lip, fisting her hands in the pleats of her sari. "Are you my...?" Alia could not finish the sentence, but she found some vestige of courage and looked up at the Queen.

"I must confess," the royal clasped her hands in her lap elegantly. "I do not know. I thought," Alia was surprised to see her brush away a tear. "I thought I would sense my daughter. That some maternal instinct would tell me. But," Tentatively, she reached forward and tucked a hair behind Alia's ear, caressing her cheek. "I cannot say for certain. It is possible."

It was not what she wanted to hear, but Alia could understand. She too had imagined that she would just know, that, like a moth and a flame, she would feel a kinship with her mother naturally.

Instead, she felt nothing resembling love or affection towards the woman sitting before her, and she knew the feeling was mutual. At best, they both yearned for that reality, but both had seen too many horrors, been betrayed too many times, to fall prey to their desires.

There's one similarity, at least.

What now? That is the question Alia wanted to ask, but it lodged in her throat. If she managed the sounds, her voice would break, and Alia could not withstand the embarrassment of crying in front of her Queen.

"Have you heard the story of the Fish and the Ring?" The Queen asked. The wariness from her tone had faded, confidence taking its stead, like she had just solved a complex problem that had been nagging her for years.

Alia shook her head no, still too emotional to speak.

She nodded, as if understanding her predicament. Maybe they were family after all.

"Long ago, there was a merchant and his wife. They worked hard, toiling on a farm and selling their goods in the nearest port. And their work paid off. Soon, they were wealthy, buying the fanciest wares and dressing in the latest fashions. They vowed to never become poor again."

Alia could imagine the pair perfectly. She saw plenty of them roaming the streets of Toshalwar, all believing they were favored by the Gods.

"One day, the wife got into an argument with a boatman, who said that anyone could become poor. The wife laughed and said that losing her wealth was as impossible as recovering her gold ring. In the same breath, she threw her ring into the sea."

Alia laughed quietly, drawing a kind smile from the Queen.

"Years later, a villager came to their home, offering to sell fish. The wife purchased a huge cod. When the villager cut it open, her gold ring fell at her feet! The very one she tossed into the sea."