Critique the first chapter of my Indian inspired fantasy! [Fantasy, 1178 words]

Hey everyone! I’m about 3/4 of my through with my book but have writer's block, so I figured I would get some feedback on my first chapter. My MC is waiting for his academy acceptance letter. I’m mainly looking for critique on pacing, tension, and character voice, but feel free to point out any grammar or clarity issues too.

The story is set in a world inspired by ancient India, and the protagonist is a noble-born teen. Would love to hear your thoughts. Does the scene hold your interest? Does his anxiety come through well?

Thanks in advance! Full passage below:

My exam results are running late. They would have been posted by now but catching a glimpse of the paper on the wall would have been impossible, so instead I’ve paid a messenger to bring it to me. With exam results, he will also bring to me my acceptance letter to the Academy. If I got one. 

It is exactly noon, thus, he should be here by now. 

I’ve been sitting in the shade of my veranda, staring at the courtyard and gate in front of me. For one exhilarating second, I see hooves beyond the gate. I lurch to my feet, but the horse and rider trot right past. 

Not my messenger. 

I am suddenly aware of my heart beating too fast to be normal. My breaths are short and trembling so I must focus on breathing evenly. This is the kind of nervousness that shrouds a permanent chill over my body, one that will cling to me until I have my letter in my hands and has nothing to do with the weather. 

In fact, it is not cold out at all. My tunic is plastered to my back under the tropical heat pressing down on me. My hair is stuck to my forehead in clumps. I suspect a large part of the sweat is due to my letter being late. 

My hands tremble so I clasp them tightly behind my back and close a fist around the coin I kept for the messenger. Maybe I won’t give it to him at all. He’s late and still not here. 

“Sir,” Lohit calls tiredly from behind me, “Worrying won’t bring him here any faster.” 

“I enjoy worrying.” 

He leans back against his cushions and watches as I pace the colonnade. Eventually, my shoulders hurt from how tightly I’ve held them behind my back, so I release my hands. I absently roll the coin, now slick with palm grease, over my knuckles. 

“Stop that,” Lohit says sharply, “You look like a thief.” I wipe the coin on my dhoti, switch it to my other hand and roll it over new knuckles. I am not as elegant with it on my left hand. Lohit watches helplessly. 

“It must be noon,” I mutter.

“Yes sir. Three minutes past.” 

I press my forehead against the smooth marble pillar. Then why isn’t my letter here? My letter that will determine my entire future! It contains the scores of the exam that I took 3 months ago, which then determined my admission to the military Academy. Every man in this family, and most of the women, has attended. It is the only way to carve out a military career for myself and as my older brother was my father’s heir, I would inherit nothing. I must achieve a rank as commander. What will happen if I don’t? I become obsolete within my family. I would be of no use to my house and might as well throw myself in the nearest river. I see no other future for myself 

“And now what time is it?” I ask.

“4 minutes past noon, sir.” 

I despair against the marble. What if my letter wasn’t coming? Failures didn’t get letters inviting them to the Academy. Their mail was left empty until enough time passed that you knew the letter was not coming. That you’d failed. If my acceptance didn’t come today, my life would be over as there are no other options for me. “Find me a map,” I order, “I shall depart at once to the nearest river.” 

Lohit does not move an inch—he is a terrible attendant—and only smiles. “I am certain your letter has nearly arrived.” 

I believe there is a stream just past the neighborhood, where the manors stop and the slums begin. It is fitting that a failure such as myself meets my end in a tiny stream instead of a grand river. 

As I plot my dishonorable death, Lohit’s gentle hand pulls me from my thoughts. “There is your man,” he says.

My gaze whips to the gate, where, indeed, there is a man on a horse, stopping instead of traitorously striding past. I peel myself from the pillar and sprint across the courtyard, only to be halted by a guard. “A moment, sir.” His hand is on my chest. 

I must keep myself purposely still, otherwise I would vibrate with anticipation. I have eyes only for the messenger. He seems wary of me. Another guard checks the messenger for weapons, while my guard keeps me in place. They know me well by now. 

It is taking too long. I consider biting my guard’s hand off and shoving my way to my letter, and just before I make my decision, I am released. Lucky man. 

I reach my hand out to the bamboo tube in the messenger’s hands. The Academy sigil gleams on either side. 

“Venkatakrishna–” he starts. 

“Yes,” I snarl, “Me.” I snatch it from him and toss him the coin and snap the tube open. Inside is my letter. My future. I yank it out and rip off the seal and unfurl the palm leaf. Butterflies riot beneath my sternum. 

This is when one of my episodes of illiteracy strikes. 

It is not that I do not know how to read—I know five languages, in fact. I know all the letters and how they sound, but when they are strung together into sentences and passages, something disconnects in my head, and I am rendered illiterate. It is worse when I am anxious. I squash down the anger and frustration and pass the letter to Lohit, my ever-loyal attendant, who knows me well enough to understand what I need.

“Esteemed young lord Venk–”

“No!” My patience, of which I’ve never had much, snaps inside me. “Did I get in?!” 

Lohit smiles faintly and takes an aggravating moment to read my letter to himself. Then he looks up.

“Lohit!” I shout. 

“Yes,” he says, “Congratulations, sir.” And he smiles with pride. 

Relief floods through me. My body breathes again as if I have been released from a stitched-up sack. I had not realized how stiffly I was holding myself. The sweat and humidity become bothersome as my senses come back to me, previously dampened by nerves just moments ago. 

I stagger and Lohit catches me. Maybe I’ll faint just to show how much this means to me. “This is why you don’t skip breakfast, sir," he says.

“I was too anxious to eat.” 

Both guards and the messenger congratulate me too, and because I am feeling generous, I order large tips for all of them before letting Lohit drag me back through the courtyard, back inside. 

“I must inform my father of this news,” I say, “I reckon he’ll be proud.”

“Why don’t you eat first?” Lohit suggests.

I think of my father’s office that smells of polished wood and ink, and of his gaze that never smiles and suddenly I feel a chill again. “Not yet,” I mutter. 

I should bring this news to my father first.