Before the guards could collect themselves, she strode forward, her movements embodying the essence of someone who already possessed the space she now entered.
Nearby, under the broad canopy of the neem tree, Ruksana was intent on oiling the blade of her dagger. The moment Alina crossed the main threshold of the palace, Ruksana's eyes flickered upward, their intensity palpable.
Alina (coolly): "You must be the one they call his shadow. Funny — I was under the impression that shadows don't glare."
A slow, deliberate movement marked Ruksana's ascent, her body rising with the precision of a coiled snake ready to strike.
Ruksana: "And you must be the storm that follows peace treaties. Tell me, Princess, what brings a diplomatic offering to a commoner's door?"
Unfazed, Alina smiled, a glimmer of confidence lighting her expression.
"Commoner? No. Veer is a merchant king now. The palace may reflect his glory, but this house is firmly his throne."
Ruksana began to circle Alina, her steps slow and measured, each one filled with purpose.
"And you think you can claim space here?"
"I don't need to claim. I was invited. The King himself offered me to Veer — not merely as a bride, but as a profound gesture of eternal peace."
Ruksana's eyebrow arched in skepticism.
"Peace? Or surveillance in silk?"
In a bold move, Alina stepped forward, closing the distance, her presence both intimidating and unwavering.
"I don't know what your role is to him. A servant? A lover? A specter from his past? But I will embody what his future demands — grace, alliance, and legitimacy."
Ruksana leaned in, her voice a whisper laced with chill.
"And I will be what keeps his enemies awake at night."
At that very moment, Veer made his entrance, drawn by the noise reverberating from the courtyard. He paused, taking in the scene, his keen eyes reading every expression and every shallow breath that filled the air.
Veer: "Let me guess. A dove has flown into a wolf's den, and the wolf hesitates, unsure whether to bite… or bow."
Ruksana was the first to respond, her tone resolute.
Ruksana: "She demands space."
Alina chimed in smoothly.
Alina: "I offer presence."
Veer shifted his gaze between the two women, considering each.
Veer: "Then let it be known — this house is not governed by fear, fire, or favor. It is ruled by balance."
He turned his attention to Alina.
"You may stay. But know that you must earn your place."
Next, his attention turned to Ruksana.
"You may guard. However, you shall not strike without just cause."
And then, addressing the gathered household, he proclaimed:
"This is not a harem. This is not a palace. This is Sankalp — a house built on intention. None of you are mere ornaments; each of you is a weapon of will. And peace is the war we are fighting now."
As night cloaked the land, Alina found herself seated beside the gentle murmurs of the fountain, brushing her long hair in thoughtful silence. Meanwhile, Ruksana perched vigilantly at the edge of the roof, her watchful gaze fixed on the gates like that of a hawk ready to swoop down on its prey. In another corner of the palace, Devayani stared intently at her reflection in her brass hand mirror, grappling with her own turbulent thoughts. What was she more afraid of — the thought of losing Veer, or the unnerving prospect of sharing him?
As for Veer? He stood at his desk, hands clasped behind his back, his demeanor calm yet commanding as he murmured to himself:
"Let them come. One by love. One by duty. One by fire. And let them learn: you don't tame me… you choose me."
In the kingdom, there lingered an old saying — that prosperity often invites great danger, a notion that seemed eerily appropriate as the calm before the storm gripped the palace. Whispers fluttered through the court like restless spirits, hinting at the arrival of a wise sage, robed in saffron, a presence that was both serene and fierce. His eyes, deep wells of ancient wisdom, sparkled with riddles and truths, and he had brought with him a formidable challenge: five questions, steeped in the spiritual and the philosophical, that none had yet managed to answer. The air thickened with the anticipation of what these queries might unleash upon their already fractured world.
Next day, the old wise sage make his way into the kingdom and due to how king Bhoj respect the sages, the old sage was given the audience with the king.
In the bustling court of Malwa, whispers flit through the air like restless fireflies, lighting up a realm intertwined with mysteries and the weight of unseen forces. The courtiers speak in hushed tones of strange omens that have appeared, heralding the arrival of a wise sage draped in serene saffron robes. His presence radiates a fierce calmness, inviting curiosity but also a tinge of trepidation. Deep within his penetrating gaze lies an archipelago of timeless riddles, each carrying the weight of worlds uncharted.
With an air of affirmation, the sage has issued a revered challenge: five questions, each steeped in spiritual and philosophical depth, a challenge that has yet to be met with a correct answer from anyone who dares to try.
This proclamation sends a ripple of unease through the grand court. Ministers wipe the beads of sweat from their brows as they grapple with the implications of the sage's arrival. Scholars murmur amongst themselves, their brows furrowed in deep contemplation over the profound nature of the questions. Even the normally unshakeable King sits in an unusual silence, a pensive gaze cast over his court that is both solemn and contemplative.
As the buzz around the kingdom grows, tales of the sage and his enigmatic inquiries spread like wildfire. The King's decree offers a tempting reward for anyone capable of unraveling the sage's cryptic enigmas. Yet, despite the allure of glory and riches, no brave soul steps forward to accept the challenge, for they are paralyzed by the dread of the king's possible wrath should they falter in their answers.