With the question hanging ominously in the air, gasps ripple through the assembled ministers. A brave voice rises to object, but the queen silences him with a raised hand.
Queen: "You are bold."
Veer: "I am honest." Well if that's how I can secure my future then be it.
Queen: "And dangerously popular. That's a recipe that often leads to… accidents."
The chill in the room deepens as they once again lock eyes, a silent battle of wills ensues.
Veer (bowing deeper now): "Then I must thank Your Majesty for keeping me alive so far."
Her narrowed gaze studies him, assessing, and her lips tighten with scrutiny.
"Why did you let her stay?"
His answer is as steady as a river flowing through rocky terrain.
"Because she stopped being a princess the moment she wore dust on her ankles and smiled at a crying child while pouring him water." And having her act as my shield.
In those words, Veer reveals a profound connection to both Alina and the very essence of humanity that binds them—a challenge issued and accepted, the flutter of change poised on the horizon.
An almost tangible silence descended upon the room, heavy as a lead weight. Just as the air seemed to thicken with tension, the queen unexpectedly graced the atmosphere with a smile, delicate and fleeting. It was a subtle twist of her lips, as if she had unearthed the very answer she had been seeking, testing the waters of loyalty and resolve.
Queen: "Then prove your loyalty, Veer."
Veer, caught in the moment, straightened his posture, his heart pounding as he prepared to accept the queen's challenge.
Veer: "What would you have me do?" Please don't ask me to cut my heart out to show the loyalty.
Her regal demeanor shifted as she met his gaze, clearly weighing her words carefully.
Queen: "Keep your distance from her."
A silence fell again, heavier now, filled with unspoken fears and burgeoning complications.
"No clandestine meetings. No unions that could bring shame upon this court. If your hearts intertwine to unite kingdoms—very well. But if the ties of affection serve only to divide…" she let the threat linger, an unspoken promise hanging in the air like a dark cloud before a storm, "I will turn every well you've built to dust."
With that ominous edict echoing in his mind, Veer made his way back to his modest shop later that evening, each step heavy with contemplation. As he entered, he found Princess Alina inside, her enchanting laughter filling the space as she wiped down gleaming copper pots and chatted with a child whose eyes sparkled with delight.
But when she turned to acknowledge him, her bright smile faltered, and a shadow darted across her features.
"They summoned you."
Her voice held an edge of worry that clung to the air between them.
"Yes," he replied, the weight of his earlier encounter lying heavily upon him.
"She warned you?"
The princess asked, her brow knitted in expectation.
"No. She tested me."
That clarification didn't entirely relieve her tension; he could see it in the way she shifted, pretending to busy herself with the jars.
"And?"
"I passed," he declared, attempting to assure her as he fought to mask his own uncertainty.
But her gaze drifted away, as she focused on sorting jars, her mind seemingly caught in a turmoil of thoughts and fears.
"So what now?" she inquired, catching the flicker of emotion dancing in his eyes.
Veer, feeling the gravity of the moment, poured her a cup of cool water from a clay jug, the gentle sound of liquid filling the vessel contrasting sharply with the tumult left by the queen's decree. Handing it to her, he offered soft reassurance.
"Now," he said, his voice low and intimate, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace they shared, "we continue. But we will not be fire and fire. Let me be the wind that gently fans your flames when no one else can see."
She blinked, momentarily taken aback by the tenderness in his words, the promise of unvoiced support unveiling itself in the mundane act of sharing a drink.
"No confessions. No grand vows," he continued, firm yet gentle. "Only a war we fight silently, together, if you're willing."
As their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity, the connection between them deepened, and she took the cup from his hands, her fingers brushing against his before she brought it to her lips and drank.
Outside, the marketplace buzzed with energy—not just from the clamor of traders hawking their wares, but also from the whispers of townsfolk fueled by curiosity and gossip.
"Is it true? The Princess of Sultan—working at Veer's stall?"
"She's pouring water!"
"What madness is this? And Veer just lets her?"
But the raucous conversations abruptly stilled, the air thickening with an unspoken dread as a long, ominous shadow cast its grip over the cobbled path. Conversations fluttered to silence, broken only by the soft chime of elegant anklets that silenced the crowd mid-sentence. A line of guards, their black and gold regalia gleaming in the fading light, cut through the throng with the precision of a knife slicing through air.
Princess Devayani had arrived.
She was a sight to behold, stepping into the square like a tempest clad in fine silk. A striking figure draped in deep maroon with threads of gold glimmering in the waning sunlight, her jewelry sparkled as if to echo the fierce strength of her lineage. Every step she took was imbued with authority; her gaze, sharp enough to cut through doubt, seemed to command the very ground beneath her feet.
Every vendor bowed their heads in reverence. Each child who had been laughing just moments before fell silent, as even the pigeons scattered in the wake of her formidable presence.
Veer raised his eyes from his ledgers, recognizing the formidable force that had just entered his world.
Veer (softly): "Here comes the lioness."