Ugrasena and Karna both stared at Sumedha.
She stood calmly, as if the chaos around her did not exist. Her face was composed, her gaze steady. She did not look like a young girl making an emotional decision. She looked like a minister delivering a proposal that had been calculated and weighed.
Then she looked directly at Karna. "My father is dead," she said softly. "My brother is also dead."
Her voice did not tremble. She did not even blink.
"My aunt has no children," she continued, as if listing facts from a scroll. "And at this moment, my grandfather is very old. After spending so long in prison… he is not in a condition to rule this kingdom."
Ugrasena's eyes flickered, but he did not deny it.
Sumedha lifted her chin slightly.
"I am the sole heir to this kingdom, Maharaj Karna," she said. "But I cannot sit on the throne either… because I am a woman."
Her words were simple, but the bitterness behind them was unmistakable. Not bitterness toward Karna, but toward the world itself.
Then she took a slow breath and spoke the words that made Mrinalini's stomach twist.
"If you take me in marriage," Sumedha said, "then Mathura can directly become a vassal state of Dakshina Kalinga..."
The platform suddenly felt smaller.
Sumedha continued without hesitation, her tone still calm, still logical. "It will answer to a dharmic individual like you. And from our point of view… this is how Mathura can repay its debt to you."
Karna's expression did not change.
But Mrinalini's face did.
The moment Sumedha finished speaking, something dark flashed across Mrinalini's eyes. Her jaw tightened. Her fingers curled into fists so hard that her nails bit into her palms. She tried to control her breathing, tried to keep her expression neutral, but the emotions rose too quickly.
Shock.
Anger.
A sharp, bitter sting she did not want to name.
Ugrasena, however, looked at Sumedha with thoughtful eyes.
He did not look offended.
He did not look alarmed.
Instead, he looked almost… tempted.
"My child," Ugrasena said slowly, his voice gentle, "I am not against such an idea."
Sumedha's eyes remained fixed on Karna.
Ugrasena continued, speaking with sincerity. "If someone like Maharaj Karna accepts you," he said, "I would consider it a blessing."
Mrinalini's fists clenched tighter.
But Ugrasena raised his hand slightly, signaling calm. "However," he added, "this is not the time and place to discuss such things."
Sumedha's expression did not shift.
Ugrasena leaned closer, his voice turning softer, more personal.
"You have spent your entire life in prison," he said. "You should enjoy life first. You should breathe freely. You should see the world."
He looked at her with the eyes of a grandfather who had already lost too much. "Do not sacrifice yourself for the sake of the kingdom," Ugrasena said.
Sumedha's gaze did not soften.
Instead, she responded immediately, her tone calm but firm. "Grandfather," she said, "I have spent my whole life in prison."
Her voice remained steady, but there was something chilling in the truth of it. "Whether it is Dakshina Kalinga or Mathura," she continued, "it is the same to me. A palace is still a palace. Walls are still walls."
Ugrasena frowned slightly.
Sumedha's eyes remained clear. "And if I stay here," she said, "and develop attachment to this place, then I might feel sadness later. So it is better to leave now, while I still have no attachment. It is better to start a new life in a new place."
Her words were not emotional.
They were practical.
And that practicality made them more unsettling than any tears could have.
Mrinalini stared at Sumedha, her chest tight.
She wanted to reject the proposal herself.
She wanted to shout that Karna was not a prize to be offered like land or wealth.
But she remained silent, because she knew she had no right to speak here.
And that helplessness only made the anger sharper.
Meanwhile, Karna stood quietly as the grandfather and granddaughter argued.
His face remained calm, but his mind was not.
Had this been the Karna of months ago, he would have refused instantly. He would have rejected the idea without even letting it breathe. Marriage was not a political tool to him. A kingdom was not something to be acquired through a woman's sacrifice.
But Dhavani's words had changed something inside him.
The duality.
The way the world moved between duty and emotion, between attachment and detachment.
Karna's eyes shifted briefly toward Sumedha.
He saw her calmness, her wisdom, her strange detachment. He saw that she was not begging for love. She was offering a solution. A path. A structure.
And Karna understood that.
The silence stretched long enough that Ugrasena and Sumedha both slowly stopped speaking.
Then Karna finally opened his mouth.
"If Princess Sumedha and King Ugrasena wish for that," Karna said, "then I have no problem with it."
The words fell like thunder.
Ugrasena froze.
Sumedha blinked once, her calm expression cracking slightly for the first time.
And Mrinalini…
Mrinalini felt her heart drop.
For a moment, her ears rang as if the cheering crowd below had suddenly disappeared. Her throat tightened. Her eyes widened, and she felt something burn behind them.
He met her only yesterday.
Only yesterday.
And he accepted it just like that?
Her chest ached as if someone had stabbed her with a thin knife and left it there.
Almost tears welled up in her eyes.
Ugrasena, however, looked relieved, almost joyful. His old face brightened as if a burden had been lifted.
Sumedha remained silent, watching Karna closely.
But Karna was not finished speaking.
His voice continued, steady as ever. "However," he said calmly, "there are other women whom I would want to ask a hand in marriage before marrying you."
The platform went still again.
Ugrasena's expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face.
Sumedha's gaze sharpened slightly, curious but not offended.
Mrinalini's breath caught.
Karna turned slightly toward Ugrasena, his voice calm but carrying weight.
"Maharaj," he said, "sometimes, old karma must receive its karmaphala before a new karma gets its karmaphala. It does not matter whether those marriages happen or not. But closure is important for one to move forward in life."
Ugrasena stared at him, silent, understanding slowly dawning in his eyes.
Karna's tone softened slightly, the harshness leaving his voice. "Your son just died," he said. "Cremate him and proceed with the rituals, Maharaj."
He paused, then added quietly. "I will have to leave right now."
Karna's gaze shifted toward the horizon as if he could already see the road stretching away.
"And I will return on the fourteenth day."
By noon, the smoke of Kamsa's funeral pyre had already begun to thin.
The cremation was done according to royal rites, not because the dead man deserved honor, but because Mathura deserved closure. The flames had risen high, swallowing the last traces of the tyrant's body. Priests chanted mantras with careful voices, and the citizens watched from afar, silent and cautious, as if they feared the dead king might rise again.
But when the pyre finally collapsed into ash, the tension that had lived in Mathura for years seemed to loosen.
The air felt lighter.
The sky felt wider.
And the city, for the first time in a long time, felt like it belonged to its people again.
Soon after, Karna and Mrinalini prepared to depart.
The celestial chariot descended into the palace courtyard like a beam of sunlight falling from the heavens. The seven horses stamped softly, their golden manes rippling as if they carried their own flames. Karna climbed aboard first, calm as always. Mrinalini followed, her posture straight, her face unreadable.
Below, Ugrasena stood watching them.
Sumedha stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the chariot as if she were watching fate itself fly away.
The chariot lifted slowly, wind rising beneath it.
As it began to ascend, Sumedha finally spoke in a quiet voice.
"Grandfather…" she murmured. "Did you think I was inappropriate in proposing such a marriage?"
Ugrasena turned toward her and smiled gently, shaking his head. "No, my granddaughter," he said softly. "Not at all."
Sumedha's expression remained calm, but her eyes searched his face, wanting an honest answer.
Ugrasena continued, his tone warm. "I was actually happy," he admitted. "Happier than you realize."
Sumedha blinked.
Ugrasena chuckled faintly, as if he was amused by her seriousness. "You knew what you were doing," he said. "And more importantly, you knew why you were doing it. I was impressed by your intelligence."
He looked at her for a moment, then added thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is because you grew up away from your father's influence."
Sumedha's gaze lowered slightly.
Ugrasena sighed, his voice turning gentle. "It wasn't truly the place to speak about such matters," he said. "And if I had to choose, I would have preferred to be the one to propose it. That would have been more proper. But I understand you. You grew far away from society. You never learned the weight of court conduct. So it is natural that you spoke your mind without caring about the place or the rules."
Sumedha remained silent, listening.
Ugrasena raised his hand and lightly patted her head, the way a grandfather would comfort a child.
"That is fine," he said. "Until the time your marriage happens, we will teach you royal conduct. How to speak to elders. What to say and what not to say. Where to speak and in whose presence. What is proper and what is not."
Sumedha nodded slowly.
"I understand," she said.
Above them, the chariot became a bright dot in the sky.
And Mathura watched it disappear.