“We are prepared to pardon Princess Chandrasena’s punishment and His Highness, Prince Veer, is willing to take her back as his wife,” said Shota, clearing his throat.
Queen Rathi Devi leaned back in her seat as if she were considering her next words.
“Happy as we all shall be with that, I’m afraid, it falls a little short to the extent of help you want from us,” said Rathi Devi. “After all, you are asking to risk the life of one of Amaravathi’s subjects on this, no doubt, dangerous journey.”
Chandra wasn’t too sure about this strategy. Rathi Devi hadn’t yet seen fit to reveal to the party from Rajgarh that her brother, Bhupathi, was unavailable. She had a feeling that the prince wouldn’t be too pleased when he was made aware of the news.
Guruji, too, was stone-faced, but he had no option but to follow the queen’s lead.
“King Chandraketu had wished for the princess’s pardon many times in theRajakootami. If he were with us now, it would have been what he wanted, I am sure,” said Shota.
TheRajakootamiwas an annual meeting of rulers of the respective kingdoms of the Saptavarsha. An annual tradition that started when Rajgarh successfully completed therajasuya yagnathat declared their sovereignty.
Chandra jolted at the news that her father had asked for her pardon. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. While one part of her felt warmth at his concern, the other part was ashamed that he had to ask others for forgiveness on her behalf.
“King Chandraketu has also wished for the fortress of Kalpeet back. Are you willing to offer that?” asked Rathi Devi.
Shota and Veer exchanged glances. “I’m afraid it is impossible. Kalpeet has been integrated into our defense systems,” said Shota in a cautious tone.
“We are not willing to settle for anything less than Kalpeet in exchange for Amaravathi’s help,” countered Rathi Devi, her voice firm.
Veer spoke, and his low voice rang with finality across the clearing. “Kalpeet is not up for discussion. Make peace with what I am offering.”
“Shame on you, Prince Veer. When you have abandoned your wife, how can you claim the right to the dowry that she brought you? Why does Amaravathi have to continue bearing the price of her stupidity by relinquishing Kalpeet? She has been punished for her crimes. The kingdom doesn’t have to shoulder the cost of her disgrace too.”
Chandra sat numb, feeling the blood drain from her face, Shota’s reply was lost in the chaos of her mind. She burned with humiliation. To be insulted so, in front of all these people, was one thing. But to be talked about so by her own relatives…in front of her husband, no less. The things she went through ought to have blunted her to such insults, but they were still there, sharp and bright enough to hurt.
“Queen Rathi Devi, please consider your daughter’s feelings. We don’t need to insult our princess in front of all these people,” pleaded Guruji.
“Stepdaughter,” corrected Rathi Devi with barely hidden relish. “And what insult is that, Guruji? Has she thought of Amaravathi’s future when she put the peace treaty between the kingdoms in jeopardy with her murderous act? Or when she made that disgraceful claim at the time of her trial about hating the husband she was commanded to wed?” She shook her head. “Amaravathi has benefited in no way with this match. It is timesomeone put Amaravathi and its needs before one woman who didn’t do the same courtesy to her country.”
“I am afraid you are asking for the impossible, Your Majesty,” said Shota, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “Kalpeet is vital to us. We can’t give it away without weakening ourselves considerably. We urge you to consider the damage that is suffered by the whole of Saptavarsha should Meru erupt.”
“He is right, O’ Queen. We must consider the humane aspect of this as well,” said Guruji, adamant about throwing his support behind Rajgarh.
“To hear the man who subjected his own wife to a barbaric punishment of whiplashes speak of human compassion is so ridiculous, it’s almost funny,” she said.
Chandra saw that the prince didn’t like to be subjected to the queen’s acid tongue. His scowl deepened with each argument, and he idly rolled a dagger over his knuckles.
Chandra frowned. When did that dagger appear in his hands? She had been watching him like a hawk and was sure she didn’t see him draw it.
“We ought to stand by our own morals. That is the dharma of akshatriya. We are the military caste—protectors and defenders. To fail to grant this request freely doesn’t reflect well on us. I don’t agree to this,” said Guruji.
The queen descended into a contemplative silence. She gave Guruji an inscrutable look and then gazed away into the distance. “I say let’s put this vote with the triumvirate,” she said as if coming to a decision. “We can ask the general what he thinks about the situation. This is, after all, why we have a three-person council to decide what is best for Amaravathi.”
Guruji’s jaw clenched as he stared hard at the queen. The purpose of the three-person council was to make sure power didn’t concentrate in one person’s hands. But since their crownprince, Bhupathi, went missing, appointing his mother in his stead, things had changed. The general was in the queen’s pocket and agreed to whatever she said.
Guruji, like the shrewd politician he was, had foreseen this eventuality. He had established his own network of loyal men to counter this specific possibility.
While the queen and Guruji were locked in a stare down, Chandra chanced to look at the prince to see how he was taking all this.
His eyes glittered in a mostly impassive face. But a slight, imperceptible curl to his mouth revealed his disgust. Chandra didn’t really blame him. Even she was ashamed with her stepmother’s machinations. And to have this argument in front of their enemy was bad on so many levels that she couldn’t understand why Guruji didn’t put an end to it, instead of prolonging it.
A sudden movement of the prince’s hand caused Chandra to tense. She saw the dagger fly before she heard the swish of its throw.
Acting on instinct, she leaped forward, bumping Guruji out of the way and stumbling right into its path.
The blade cracked against the glass bangles on her forearms, which she held up in a defensive posture, causing the jewelry to splinter. She had forgotten she wasn’t wearing her gauntlets. The knife fell on the grass, while a long trickle of blood wept down her elbow.
