**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and thus does not revolve around the real world. Words or incidents mentioned do not signify anything related to the real world. **
**Some changes were made in the previous chapter; it is advisable to read it before proceeding.**
Dawn crept silently over the palace, brushing the white marble with gold. A soft breeze stirred the curtains, carrying with it the scent of bougainvillea—sweet and deceptive, like memories that refused to fade.
Ahil stood near the window, arms folded behind him, gaze fixed on the horizon. Behind him, Shivantika lay unmoving on the divan bed, her breathing shallow but steady. It had been hours since she'd fainted, yet he hadn't left her side.
He wasn't sure if it was guilt, fear, or something deeper—something older—that rooted him there.
Another breeze swept in, and with it came a knock.
The head servant entered and bowed. "Your Highness… Prince Sidharth requests your presence. It is urgent."
Ahil's expression sharpened. "Sidharth?"
"He waits in your private royal garden. Alone."
A final glance at Shivantika. She looked peaceful. But peace, he knew, was a fragile illusion.
"Inform me the moment she wakes," he ordered, then turned and strode out.
*****
In the private royal garden, the silence was deceptively calm.
Prince Sidharth stood rigid beside the central fountain, his presence alone making the air feel heavier. His jaw clenched as Ahil approached.
"You promised she would be safe and reach Shi state without any harm," Sidharth said coldly, without preamble. "You let her bow at your feet when you knew who she was. You promised me if I acted like that back there in Ampranam, you would keep Suragini and Shivantika safe from any harm. Why did you bring her here?"
"She came on her own," Ahil replied, measured. "I didn't force her. I only kept the truth hidden because I needed to protect her from—"
"Protect her from what?" Sidharth cut in, voice rising. "From Braheshwat? Or from you?"
Ahil didn't respond.
"Where was your protection when our people were slaughtered? When she held her mother's blood in her hands?" Sidharth's voice cracked. "You swore to me, Ahil. You swore you would look after Suragini and especially her."
Ahil's hands curled into fists. "I couldn't stop the fall of Ampranam. But I'm trying to shield what remains. You have no idea how many threats she faces—"
"I don't care," Sidharth snapped. "Whatever political storm you're caught in, whatever guilt you carry—it doesn't erase your failure."
He stepped closer, eyes blazing. "If anything happens to her now… you won't be able to imagine what I'll do."
*****
Back in the quiet chamber, Shivantika stirred.
Her eyes remained closed, but her senses sharpened—she could hear them. Her brother. Ahil.
The words filtered in like poison beneath a locked door.
"...if I acted like that back there in Ampranam…"
"…she held her mother's blood…"
"…you let her bow at your feet…"
Her chest rose and fell faster, and yet she stayed still. Frozen.
They were speaking of her like she wasn't there—like a ghost clinging to the edges of their failure. Like a fragile thing to be protected, pitied, argued over.
Her hands curled into the sheets.
She summoned the last of her strength and rose on unsteady feet, each breath a silent war against the tremble in her limbs. Slowly, she moved toward the door—dragging herself more than walking, her body still fragile, but her will unshaken.
She opened the door.
The argument stopped. Both men turned toward her, eyes wide with shock.
Shivantika stood there—weak, but standing. Her face was pale, her body unsteady, but her voice was steady.
"I heard everything," she said quietly.
Ahil took a step toward her, worry flashing across his face. She raised a trembling hand to stop him.
"Don't," she whispered. "You let me bow to you… when you knew. You watched me beg, while carrying the truth inside you like it meant nothing."
She turned slightly toward Sidharth.
"And you, bhaiya…" Her voice faltered, then steadied. "You said you'd protect me. But no one told me what was happening. No one trusted me with the truth."
Her eyes shimmered, not with tears, but with something deeper—grief.
You fought for me, you spoke for me… but you never truly saw me."
"Shivantika, everything we did—it was for your sake. If we hadn't—"
"Bhaiya, please," she cut in gently. "I deserve the truth. At least now."
Ahil glanced at Sidharth, his voice quiet but firm.
"Maybe it's time we told her everything, Sidharth. No more hiding."
He led them back into the chamber where she had rested only moments ago.
Shivantika sat down on the edge of the divan, her hands clasped in her lap, bracing herself.
Sidharth remained standing for a moment, his gaze flickering between her and Ahil.
Ahil understood his gaze and left the room and went outside to the royal garden.
Then, with a heavy breath, he began.
"It started long before you knew, Shivantika…"