The palace slept under silver moonlight, its marble walls whispering with the hush of night. Yet in the eastern wing, where the corridors were narrow and tapestries muffled sound, shadows stirred.
The Queen-Mother walked alone, her ivory robes trailing like mist upon polished floors. Two guards trailed her at a distance, careful not to overhear. She carried no lamp—she had walked these halls long before Shaurya was born and knew every step by heart.
She stopped before a carved cedar door, tapped lightly once, twice. The door opened just enough to admit her, and then it closed, swallowing her in silence.
Inside sat Envoy Varcos. He had shed his serpent cloak, but his dark eyes gleamed like a predator waiting in tall grass. Scrolls and maps littered the low table between them, lit by a single oil lamp that cast their shadows long and sharp upon the wall.
---
"Your Majesty," Varcos inclined his head, his voice smooth. "I half expected you would come. A throne divided cannot stand, and you are too wise to let your Empire gamble itself to ruin under your… impetuous son."
The Queen-Mother's expression did not waver, but her hands tightened slightly on her staff.
"You speak boldly for a guest, Envoy. Yet you are not wrong—Shaurya's path is steep. His pride is mountain stone; it will not bend."
Varcos leaned closer, his words coiling like smoke.
"Stone shatters, Your Majesty. But a Queen with wisdom can shape its fragments into new foundations. Kael does not demand much of you. A sign of loyalty, a whisper of consent, and your Empire could know prosperity again."
He unfurled a map, pointing to the coasts.
"Salt, spices, silks—all could flow here, filling your markets, fattening your coffers. Your people would love you for it. And if Shaurya resists?"
His lips curved.
"Accidents happen to young Emperors. Better to preserve the throne through one hand than to lose it through the stubbornness of another."
---
The Queen-Mother's eyes flashed, though her voice stayed calm.
"You would have me betray my blood."
Varcos smiled faintly.
"Not betrayal, Majesty. Preservation. You carried this Empire before him. You know its heart better than he ever could. Why let a boy's defiance destroy what you built?"
For a long silence, the Queen-Mother said nothing. Her gaze lingered on the maps, the drawn harbors, the serpent fleet drawn like fangs around Nandigram's coasts. Then she rose, her ivory robes whispering against the stone.
"Envoy Varcos," she said softly, "I will consider your words. But know this—Nandigram is no pawn upon Kael's board. If you play with serpents, beware. Sometimes the lion does not roar… it waits."
Varcos bowed, though his smirk betrayed his satisfaction.
"I will carry your wisdom to Lord Kael. And I trust you will carry mine to your court."
---
When the Queen-Mother returned to her chambers, her maid asked timidly, "My Queen… what counsel was sought in the night?"
The Queen-Mother's face remained unreadable. She sat before the mirror, removing her jeweled crown piece by piece.
"Counsel?" she murmured, half to herself. "No, child. It was a weighing of futures. And whichever way the scales tilt, the world will know that Nandigram's Queen is never blind."
But as the mirror caught her eyes, even she could not tell whether the flicker within was resolve or doubt.
---
Meanwhile, far across the palace, Shaurya stood upon the ramparts, unaware of the meeting, yet feeling a strange unease. The wind carried with it not only the salt of the sea but also the hiss of serpents, unseen yet circling.
The war has already begun, he thought. But not on the battlefield. It begins in whispers.
And in that moment, two games unfolded—one in the open, with armies and fleets, and one in secret, with shadows and hearts.
To be continued....