The enchanting aroma of jasmine wafted from the south wing, gently dancing through the intricate carvings of the verandah. Ruksana, dressed in a simple yet elegant charcoal saree, moved with the grace of a shadow as she lit the oil lamps adorning the courtyard. Each step was deliberate and silent, a testament to the years of discipline she had honed; she was a master of disappearing into the ether if necessary.
The guards stationed at the gate tensed, their posture stiffening as she approached.
It was then that Princess Devayani made her entrance, unannounced and strikingly poised in a soft green silk saree lavishly embroidered with threads of gold. The air shifted, laden with her regal presence, and all around her, the world seemed to hold its breath — the house, the trees, even the birds paused in reverence.
Ruksana stood tall, unwavering, refusing to bow as the princess approached. Devayani did not expect it of her; she had no illusions about the resolve that lay behind those dark eyes.
With her voice steady, yet laced with gentleness, Devayani addressed her, "You light these lamps… as if you possess an unshakeable claim to this space."
Ruksana, still focused on her task, replied with quiet strength, "I light them because he does."
Though Devayani felt her jaw tighten at the defiant response, she maintained her composure, the smile on her lips a careful mask. "Yet, you walk through his home like a whisper — quiet but always… undeniably present."
"Exactly," Ruksana said, sparing a glance at the princess. "Whispers travel where shouts cannot reach, Princess."
Unperturbed, Devayani stepped closer, the tension crackling in the air like static electricity. Amara, Ruksana's loyal companion, remained still, placing the brass lamp down to meet the gaze of the princess.
"Do you realize who I am?" Devayani asked, her tone shifting toward formidable.
With an unwavering look, Ruksana responded, "The eldest daughter of King Bhoj. Adored by the people, feared by the court, and…" she paused for dramatic effect, "...perhaps blissfully unaware of how deeply she already loves a man she cannot quite tame."
Devayani's expression flickered with a sudden pang of pain, quickly concealed behind her royal resolve. "And do you believe you can tame him?" she pressed, seeking to establish her position.
Ruksana's faint smile reappeared, illuminating her features. "I do not wish to tame him. I simply want to walk beside him — free of leashes or restraints."
Devayani's voice hardened, a steel edge sharpening her words. "You were a shadow once, cloaked in obscurity, with no name and no family. Now, you choose to play housemaid within a palace built on layers of secrets and mystery. But don't confuse kindness for permission."
They stood there, frozen in a moment that felt like an eternity. The neem leaves overhead whispered secrets to the gentle breeze, their shadows dancing and playing tricks with the light, flickering across the faces of two women caught in an unseen battle of emotions.
An almost palpable silence enveloped them, wrapping around the courtyard like a warm, heavy blanket.
Finally, it was the regal Devayani who shattered the stillness, her voice barely above a whisper yet sharp enough to cut through the tension like a knife.
"Do you love him?"
Ruksana, poised and resolute, remained composed without a flinch.
"I owe him my breath. That is more than love."
Her words hung in the air, laden with a weight that neither of them dared to fully explore.
Devayani's expression softened, but only for a moment, before she responded quietly yet fiercely, "Then we are rivals not in title… but in soul."
Ruksana took a step back, her eyes narrowing defiantly. "No, Princess. We are not rivals at all. You dwell in his dreams, a fleeting thought amidst a night of starry fantasies. I stand firmly in his reality, where the thorns of truth prick at our every moment."
Devayani spun around, her gaze piercing and intense, a warrior's fire igniting in her eyes.
"He needs someone who can challenge him—not someone who merely follows in his shadow."
With a calmness that belied the chaos around them, Ruksana fired back, "Then why haven't you stopped him even once?"
As Devayani turned to leave, her anger masked by an air of royal dignity, Ruksana's voice trailed after her, firm yet tinged with an edge of vulnerability.
"You can try to conquer his heart, Princess. But I have seen the places where he hides his wounds. That… is where I live."
The princess hesitated, just at the threshold, where light met shadow and certainty faltered for the briefest moment. For once—just once—Ruksana sensed a crack in her confidence. But Devayani pressed on, never daring to look back, crossing into the unknown.
Behind them, the bustling courtyard took on a different energy. The maids whispered among themselves, their eyes wide with curiosity. The guards exchanged furtive glances, fully aware that an unspoken war had ignited before them. And when Veer returned shortly after, he found the courtyard thick with tension, as if the air itself had turned heavy with unvoiced words.
He didn't ask what was wrong; instinctively, he understood that some truths were meant to be felt, not spoken. His gaze drifted to the southern wing of the palace, then to the towering spires in the distance, where two flames flickered in his mind—two women he held dear—and a storm was brewing on the horizon, threatening to engulf them all.
The doors behind him clicked shut with a soft finality. He let out a heavy breath, releasing the tension that had gripped him since stepping into the courtyard. He placed the scroll of tax exemptions, bestowed by the Council, into the drawer, unceremoniously, distracted by thoughts far removed from trade routes or governance.
Instead, his thoughts circled back to the unsettling silence that hung in his home. The usual cacophony of laughter from the rear courtyard was absent, the playful banter of guards had dwindled to a hush, and he noted with unease that there were no curious footsteps pattering about, no fresh roses gracing his desk, in defiance of the politics that surrounded them—no daily notes from Devayani that brought a sense of connection.