The Morning After the Attack
The dawn over Vishragarh came wrapped in mist, softening the marble spires into pale shadows. Inside the Lotus Pavilion, the blood from the assassins' failed strike had already been scrubbed away. But Shaurya knew—the memory lingered in every guard's tightened jaw, every minister's restless glance.
In the Hall of Ministers, the mood was tense.
The ministers sat in a semi-circle upon carved sandalwood seats, each topped with a cushion of dyed peacock feathers. Behind them hung banners of the Ashval crest—two golden tigers circling a sunburst.
One by one, their faces revealed the spread of opinion:
Pramila Devi, Minister of Foreign Affairs, had her hands clasped, eyes sharp, the look of someone calculating the ripples of last night's event.
Raghunath Singh, Minister of War, sat with his arms folded, his scarred brow furrowed as though he'd prefer to settle the marriage matter with a sword duel.
Bhavesh Joshi, Minister of Treasury, was chewing his lip—marriage alliances meant gold, and gold meant power.
Somnath, the High Priest and keeper of ancient pacts, sat apart, murmuring under his breath as if consulting the gods.
Opening the Council
Rudrapratap Ashval's voice cut through the whispers.
Rudrapratap: "Ministers, last night assassins breached our wards. This is not a small matter. And they did so during a meeting with the Princess of Nandigram. We will not assume coincidence."
Pramila rose gracefully, her voice calm but cold.
Pramila: "Maharaj, such an attack could serve many purposes—provocation, intimidation, even sabotage of our negotiations. We must consider who benefits most if this marriage does not occur."
Raghunath Singh leaned forward.
Raghunath: "Or perhaps Nandigram itself staged it, to test our strength or draw sympathy."
A murmur went through the room.
Shaurya Speaks
Shaurya, who had been silent until now, stood. The ministers' eyes shifted to him—not just as Rudrapratap's adopted heir, but as the man at the center of this proposed union.
Shaurya: "I fought the assassins. Their weapons were tipped with a toxin I haven't seen before. My system analysis suggests its base compound is Visha-kund, a venom brewed only in the hill shrines of Kalingarh. That is three kingdoms away from Nandigram."
Pramila's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Pramila: "Meaning whoever sent them had far-reaching connections… or sought to mislead us."
The Princess Arrives
At that moment, the carved teak doors opened. Princess Rajnandini entered, accompanied by Senapati Hariprasad.
Her attire today was less ornate: a deep indigo sari with silver trim, the peacock-feather motif replaced by a simple border of jasmine vines. But the choice was deliberate—it made her look like a queen who could ride into battle as easily as sit at court.
She bowed slightly, her gaze sweeping the ministers before settling on Shaurya.
Rajnandini: "If my presence here causes suspicion, I will leave. But know this—Nandigram gains nothing from your death, Maharaj Shaurya. And I gain nothing from marrying a corpse."
A few ministers stiffened at the bluntness, but Rudrapratap's mouth twitched—whether in amusement or approval, Shaurya couldn't tell.
Negotiating the Marriage
Rudrapratap gestured to the central carpet, inviting her forward.
Rudrapratap: "Let us then speak of the alliance openly. Princess, what terms would Nandigram set for such a union?"
Rajnandini's eyes glimmered.
Rajnandini: "Three terms.
First: Nandigram retains sovereignty over its forests, laws, and trade.
Second: Ashval aids Nandigram in purging its corruption—without replacing our nobles with yours.
Third: Any children from this union shall be educated in both courts."
A murmur of approval from Somnath, a grunt of disapproval from Raghunath Singh.
Pramila responded smoothly.
Pramila: "And in return, Ashval would expect open southern trade routes, a military alliance, and joint garrisons at our shared borders."
Rajnandini inclined her head.
Rajnandini: "Reasonable. But I will not wed under duress. My consent is not for sale in gold or titles. It is earned."
Her gaze slid deliberately to Shaurya.
Private Words in the Courtyard
When the council adjourned for the midday meal, Shaurya found Rajnandini in the jasmine courtyard, feeding crumbs to a pair of white pigeons.
Shaurya: "You speak as though the marriage is yours to grant."
She didn't look at him, but the corner of her mouth curved.
Rajnandini: "Because it is. You may be a prince, Maharaj, but I am a queen in the making. If you want me beside you, prove to me you're more than the Adhipatya System's chosen."
Shaurya: "And how would I do that?"
Now she turned, her eyes catching the sunlight like polished onyx.
Rajnandini: "Come to Nandigram. See my kingdom for what it is—its beauty, its rot. And survive it."
The Blade in the Shadows
That night, Shaurya was returning to his chambers when a shadow moved in the colonnade. He spun, catching the glint of steel—a small throwing blade, not aimed to kill but to warn.
The blade embedded itself in a wooden pillar, a rolled scrap of parchment tied to its hilt.
Unrolling it, he read:
"Trust the peacock, and you trust the snake it hides."
No signature. No seal.
But Shaurya's mind was already working—who in Ashval wanted him to doubt Rajnandini so badly? And who was bold enough to strike a warning in the heart of the palace?
A Decision Made
The next morning, Shaurya stood before Rudrapratap.
Shaurya: "I will go to Nandigram. If this marriage is to happen, it will be by my choice and hers—not by courtly pressure. And if enemies are moving, I would rather face them in the open."
Rudrapratap's eyes softened just slightly.
Rudrapratap: "Then go, but take care. Nandigram is as full of flowers as it is of thorns."
Shaurya nodded. The Adhipatya System hummed faintly in his mind, as if approving the path.
To Be Continued…