**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, thus does not revolve around the real world. Any kind of words or incidents mentioned does not signify anything related to the real world. **
The next morning, Jairam Singh stirred again—his lips murmuring words lost to the living. The physician was called in haste. As the household bustled with quiet hope, Anirudh prepared to leave for the Royal Palace. His visit, on paper, was official—a report to deliver on capital affairs to the Crown Prince, recently returned after a long and secretive absence. But beneath the formal duty, Anirudh felt a growing unease and a strange urgency to see the man he served.
The journey to the palace began at the river Miltayi, the sacred lifeline of Braheshwat. The palace lay on its opposite shore, towering and golden beneath the rising sun. As Anirudh approached the banks, his eyes caught sight of a palanquin that shimmered with embedded gems. A woman stepped out gracefully, her silhouette regal and composed, her attire whispering royalty. She boarded the royal ferry—a boat reserved only for nobles and their staff—and crossed the river without question.
Even without a formal announcement, any commoner could sense her bloodline. It wasn't merely her clothes—it was the way the world around her bowed.
Anirudh watched in silence, curiosity pricking at the edge of his thoughts. Who was she? Could it be…? Rumors had long claimed that Princess Suragini had eloped with a foreign prince, vanishing into exile. But nothing was ever confirmed.
The royal boat receded from view, replaced by one for commoners. Anirudh, lost in thought, boarded without a word, and before he knew it, the far bank greeted him. At the palace gates, he presented a pendant engraved with the kingdom's emblem—the elephant. After verification, he made his way to the eastern wing, where few dared to wander. This secluded section, with its tranquil balconies and ancient carvings, was home to the Crown Prince.
Anirudh entered the chamber quietly.
There, standing at the edge of the balcony, the Crown Prince let the wind play with his silken robes. His face was half-turned toward the horizon, contemplative and almost… melancholic.
"You're here, Anirudh," he said, turning with a faint smile, though his eyes shimmered with sorrow. "What news from the capital?"
Anirudh bowed deeply. "Nothing alarming, Your Highness."
But he didn't miss the grief lingering in the prince's voice.
Without waiting, the prince gestured him to sit. "I have two requests of you. Both are delicate."
Anirudh listened, intent.
"First, I need you to find new maidservants—loyal ones—for Princess Suragini. She's returned. The rumors must be silenced, her image protected."
Anirudh nodded, absorbing the weight of the mission.
"The second," Ahil continued, "is more pressing. After the fall of Ampranam, I believe one girl escaped. She may be hiding in Braheshwat. I want her found—alive. She may have answers… and a future to confront."
He handed Anirudh a description—details that pricked something deep in Anirudh's memory. The more he read, the more his heart clenched. It was Shivantika. The girl the prince was searching for… was already under his roof.
He said nothing.
There were questions clawing at his tongue, but none he dared to voice. The prince had secrets, just as Shivantika did.
On the journey back, Anirudh's mind wrestled with an impossible dilemma. He owed his loyalty to the prince—but he had given his trust to Shivantika, who saw him as a brother. To betray either would be to betray himself.
Then came a thought—a dangerous, brilliant thought.
What if Shivantika entered the palace disguised? What if the truth revealed itself from within?
Upon returning home, he found the house unchanged—Rajveer still in the garden, Shivantika and Nayantara by Jairam's side. After much coaxing, Shivantika reluctantly agreed. She trusted Anirudh's judgement—even if it frightened her. Nayantara, fiercely protective, insisted on going too. She couldn't let Shivantika walk into danger alone.
The next morning, Anirudh prepared false identities for them. Shivantika would become Maithili, a mute servant. Nayantara would be Pankti, her elder sister. To help sell the illusion, he arranged for another commoner girl to join them—a cheerful soul named Madhumita, from the village of Jalkranti.
Their clothes were coarse and unembellished—far removed from their old lives. Nayantara chose a faded green lehenga, nearly white in its wear. Shivantika wore pale pink, scratchy as coconut husk. They wore no jewelry, no markings—just silence and resolve.
Before leaving, Rajveer stood with them. He wished he could go, but Jairam needed care—and Anirudh could not risk bringing a man to the palace when only maidservants had been requested. Rajveer held Nayantara's gaze a heartbeat longer than necessary. She promised to return.
Their carriage rumbled to the riverbank. Before stepping out, the women covered their heads with their dupattas. The royal boat was waiting. They boarded silently—Anirudh, the three women, and the secrets they carried.
Madhumita introduced herself with a bright smile. "And your names?" she asked.
"I'm Pankti," Nayantara replied, nodding toward Shivantika. "And this is my sister, Maithili. She cannot speak."
Shivantika caught the meaning behind the glance and played her role with silent grace.
The boat glided across the river. When it reached the palace side, they disembarked and headed toward the gates. Anirudh subtly grasped Nayantara's wrist and whispered, "Don't get involved in unnecessary business." His touch was fleeting but unexpected. He had always respected distance, always been a shadow of protection. Rajveer, by contrast, had crossed those lines more than once—truths Nayantara hadn't yet discovered.
At the gates, their identities were accepted without question—thanks to Anirudh's presence—and they passed inside.
For Nayantara and Madhumita, it was their first glimpse of the royal world. Towers of carved stone rose into the sky, walls etched with silver-leaf murals, fountains that whispered music. Shivantika, having once lived such grandeur, remained composed. But for the others, wonder widened their eyes.
They were taken to the Department of the Royal Household, where a grizzled manager welcomed Anirudh and sized up the new recruits. Maya, a senior maid, brought out uniforms—simple purple lehengas, common in cut but regal in color.
"You may look rich in color," the manager said, "but don't forget your place."
They dressed and veiled their faces, leaving only their eyes visible. Then came registration, and Anirudh—before parting—handed Nayantara an emblem ring. A silent lifeline, if needed.
The next week was a blur of training—manners, routines, etiquette. Shivantika and Nayantara moved with quiet diligence. But on the final day, while cleaning the manager's desk, Shivantika dropped a scroll. When she picked it up, her eyes caught the face on the canvas.
Radha.
Her maidservant. Her companion. But the name under the portrait read—Princess Suragini.
Maya entered and retrieved the scroll.
"Oh, you found her portrait?" she said casually. "That's Princess Suragini. She disappeared for years… but she's finally back."
Shivantika's heart raced. That face—Radha—was now a royal? Or had she always been?
She rushed to tell Nayantara. The two sat in shock.
"It's alright," Nayantara whispered. "Anirudh will be back soon. We'll figure it out."
That night, sleep didn't come.
The following morning, their assignments were revealed. As expected, the three were to serve Princess Suragini. But the order had come directly from the Crown Prince.
They were packing when the prince himself arrived—elegant, poised, surrounded by officials. He requested to see the new servants assigned to his sister. The three women stood with veiled faces and lowered eyes.
Shivantika stood in the middle.
Then he spoke.
"So, these are the new servants."
Shivantika froze.
That voice. That tone. The warmth that once made her feel safe. And the cold edge that haunted her dreams.
She raised her eyes, just slightly—and saw him.
Veer.
Her Veer.
The man she had once loved. The man who had destroyed her home. The man who now stood as Crown Prince Ahil of Braheshwat.
Everything around her blurred. Her breath caught. She had spent her days imagining this confrontation. Now, it was real—and she was speechless.
Then came the final blow.
"The girl in the middle," said the prince, his voice unreadable, "will serve me in the upper palace. The others may serve my sister."
The world shifted under Shivantika's feet.
And thus, the past came rushing into the present. Quiet, cruel, and inevitable.