"She's here for Veer. It's so obvious," one noble whispered, resentment curling in their tone.
"This is dangerous. What if this is Varnal's political trap?" another cautioned, glancing around nervously.
"What kind of spell has this boy cast?" a third mused, confusion marring their features.
"He turned water into wealth…and now, into power," came the incredulous reply.
"The king has to be careful. He could lose his daughter—or worse, his throne—to a commoner," a voice warned softly.
Yet, amongst all the murmurs in the court, as the allure of Veer's rise captured the imaginations of nobles, Malwa's own princesses and noble daughters began to share a flame of envy, their hearts burning like wildfire at the thought of a simple man capturing the heart of their beloved princess.
Veer, at this moment in time, carries himself with an air of ease and indifference, seemingly unfazed by the whirlwind of events surrounding him. It has been three days since Alina took up her unexpected residence, and during this brief span, a multitude of emotions has stirred beneath the surface—especially for her. The air shifts when he receives a mysterious sealed letter, its edges delicately marked, and it exudes a captivating aroma of sandalwood and rose, tempting his curiosity.
The note reads:
"Come to the twilight garden behind the palace. I have something to show you. — V."
Compelled by an unseen force, he decides to heed the invitation.
As he approaches the garden, the serene beauty envelops him; Alina is already there, poised gracefully amidst the cascading flowering vines. A glimmering silver goblet rests in her hand, reflecting the soft hues of the setting sun.
Alina: "You know what bothers me, Veer?"
Her question lingers in the air like a whisper of secrets yet to be revealed.
Veer: "That I said no."
With a subtle shake of her head, Alina takes a step closer, the distance between them shrinking as her gaze intensifies.
Alina: "No… that I care you said no."
The vulnerability in her voice is undeniable, prompting Veer to look deeply into her eyes.
"I've been told since birth that I'm untouchable. Unattainable. Now, I wonder if it was all a lie… or if you're just a different kind of man."
Her words weave through the stillness like a gentle breeze, stirring something deep within Veer.
Veer (quietly): "I don't want to tame you, Princess. I want to remain untamed myself."
There's a pause—an electric tension that fills the space around them.
Alina: "Then let's not be a cage to each other… but a flame the other respects."
The air thickens with unspoken words as they hold each other's gaze.
Veer: "Then prove it."
Alina: "Name your test."
It's clear that both of them are about to embark on a path fraught with challenges, yet filled with potential for growth and understanding.
Veer: "Stay here. Not as a princess. But as a vendor at my shop. Let the people see you sweat in the sun like I did. Let them mock you. Then we'll talk."
Her expression hardens for a fleeting moment as she processes his proposition, yet profound resolve flickers within her.
In a surprising twist, Alina nods slowly and agrees to his challenge. The very next morning, she finds herself at the bustling heart of Malwa's vibrant bazaar, donning the guise of a veiled woman shrouded in simple robes. There she stands, pouring fresh water for a line of customers, the gentle clinking of her bangles accompanying each movement. Though her hands remain soft and delicate, she meets the oppressive heat and curious stares of passersby without flinching.
A ripple of murmurs sweeps through the growing crowd.
"Is that…?"
"No… she wouldn't."
"She would if he told her to."
The atmosphere is electric, charged with a mixture of disbelief and intrigue.
Meanwhile, an ominous overcast looms overhead, distant thunder rumbling like a warning. Within the palace walls, tension crackles like dry leaves caught in a powerful wind—something has disturbed the royal tranquility. At the center of this unease sits Queen Madhumalti, the matriarch of Malwa, a woman adorned in flowing ivory silk and garnet, exuding an air of serene authority. Her expression, calm as a still lake, conceals the brewing storm within as she listens to the whispers surrounding her.
A court minister steps forward, voice trembling slightly, as he delivers news that will shatter the morning calm.
"Your Majesty, the man has arrived."
"Bring him."
With a creak of wooden doors, Veer strides in confidently, a picture of nonchalance. He is dressed not in extravagant finery, but in his practical, well-worn cotton tunic and sturdy leather sandals. A golden sash signaling his new status as a merchant hangs loosely around his waist, almost mockingly casual amidst the opulence.
The queen's gaze is fixed on him, unblinking, yet sharp as glass.
Queen: "Is it true?"
Veer bows slightly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Veer: "Many things are true, Your Majesty. If you could be more specific—"
Her interruption is swift and pointed.
Queen (cutting): "Do not parry with me, boy. I am not one of your market admirers. Is it true that the Princess of Varnal—our once-rival kingdom—is now working in your stall, pouring cups like a servant girl?"
In the silence that follows, one could hear a pin drop.
Veer: "Yes, Your Majesty. She asked to learn from the source."
The queen's brow furrows, casting shadows across her regal features.
Queen: "Learn what? Commerce? Or control over Malwa's people, through your hands?"
A shiver runs through the audience as whispers ripple across the chamber. Ministers exchange furtive glances, while an elderly nobleman coughs nervously, his discomfort palpable.
Veer (unwavering): "She learns humility. I offered her no favors. She stands in the dust like any apprentice."
Rising with poise, the queen's voice cuts through the tension like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Do you know what image this creates? A foreign royal consorting with a commoner, selling water like a tavern maid? The people gossip. They wonder if you seduced her—or worse, if she seduced you to take our kingdom from within."
There's a charged pause as the room hangs in breathless anticipation of his response.
"Is this your strategy, Veer? To climb not through battle or books, but through bedchambers?"