The two women stood side by side in front of a large bronze vessel filled with slowly simmering milk. Subhadra stirred it with slow, steady movements.
"This sweet was my grandmother's favorite during festivals," she began, "Mother used to make it with her own hands whenever the whole family gathered together. It looks simple, but if you rush even one step, the texture completely changes."
Sumedha watched every movement carefully.
"So patience first."
"Always."
"And saffron?"
"Not yet."
"So when?"
"When the milk is ready."
"How will I know?"
Subhadra smiled gently.
"You'll know soon, cousin."
Sumedha narrowed her eyes.
"That isn't a real answer, but I'll take it."
Several cooks nearby exchanged amused glances as it was an incredibly rare scene for them to spot Queen Sumedha in the kitchens, much less speak like a normal woman. Most of the time, she was busy either narrating stories to the children or advising Karna on something.
In fact, in the three years of her marriage, Sumedha only stepped into the kitchens three times.
Just a few days after Subhadra entered, Queen Sumedha now already entered the kitchen. Looks like this princess is going to bring a lot of changes in the family.
Time passed slowly as the milk thickened. Sumedha followed every instruction with full attention. She asked questions, sometimes tried to guess the next step, only for Subhadra to gently shake her head.
"Now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No."
"…Now?"
Subhadra finally laughed. "You are too impatient, cousin."
"I dislike uncertainty."
"Food is made through heart, cousin, not through any calculations."
"But, if you don't follow a particular recipe, there is a higher chance of spoiling the dish."
Sumedha's counter made Subhadra speechless, but the princess of Dvarika didn't say anything to that.
After the milk had reduced enough, Subhadra handed her the small bowl of crushed saffron.
"Now."
Sumedha added it carefully, watching the beautiful golden streaks spread through the creamy mixture.
"…Beautiful," she murmured.
"I told you."
When the mixture had cooled enough to touch, Subhadra showed her how to shape each sweet with practiced fingers.
"Like this."
Sumedha nodded confidently. "I've understood."
"You are a fast learner."
"I guess I am."
A few moments later, Sumedha held up her first attempt. It leaned awkwardly to one side.
Subhadra stared at it for a second before laughter escaped her lips.
"…Don't laugh. This is my first attempt."
"Sorry."
Sumedha looked at the misshapen sweet and added. "It looked much better in my head."
"That is usually where masterpieces are born," Subhadra replied wittily.
Sumedha raised her eyebrow, "And where do they die then?"
As if she was prepared beforehand, Subhadra replied right away, showing her palms, "In our hands."
At once, the ever-composed Sumedha broke into laughter, startling the servants around.
After a while;
"One more spoon of sugar," Subhadra said after tasting the mixture.
Sumedha frowned immediately. "One more? It'll become too sweet. Maharaj doesn't like it too sweet. "
"It won't. Trust me."
"You don't know about Maharaj."
"Yes, but I do know about the dish. Just put your trust in me and add it."
After brief hesitation, Sumedha added one more spoon of sugar.
Meanwhile, the Royal chef, watching Queen Sumedha getting along with Subhadra, couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"This Princess is really amazing. Not everyone can get along with Queen Sumedha..."
***
The first light of dawn had just touched the eastern sky when the women's training grounds of Kanipura came alive.
The steady clash of wooden swords rang through the cool morning air.
Rows of women moved across the field in perfect rhythm, thrusting spears forward together with sharp, disciplined movements.
Every order was followed without delay.
Archers practiced from horseback, sending arrows flying toward distant straw targets without slowing their mounts even once.
Right in the middle of everything stood Chief Queen, Mrinalini.
A long practice spear rested easily in her hand as she walked between the ranks. She corrected a soldier's stance here, adjusted another's grip there, but she never raised her voice. She did not need to.
Her soldiers listened because they respected her deeply.
"Again," she said calmly.
At once another group of mounted archers galloped across the field. One arrow flew slightly off course.
Mrinalini stepped forward and took the bow from the young recruit's hands.
"Your arrow missed before it ever left the string."
The recruit lowered her head.
Without another word, Mrinalini nocked an arrow. The horse beneath her broke into a steady gallop. She never looked straight at the target. Her eyes stayed fixed far beyond it.
The bowstring sang.
The arrow struck the very center of the straw dummy.
She dismounted smoothly and handed the bow back.
"Your eyes guide your body."
The young soldier took the weapon with fresh determination.
"I understand."
From the edge of the field, someone else had been watching the whole exchange.
Subhadra.
She had come to the training grounds shortly after sunrise, meaning only to watch for a short while. But the quiet discipline of the Women's Division held her attention far longer than she expected.
"So this is the famed female warrior division of Kanipura… I only heard it as rumors from my maids..." she whispered to herself. "In a world where women are stuck in the house to deal with house chores and look after the needs of the husband, Elderly, and the children… it is indeed very fresh to see a place where even they can take up arms and fight."
A soft snort pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned and saw a cavalry horse tethered under a nearby tree. Its rider was busy adjusting a loose saddle strap. The stallion pawed the ground impatiently.
Subhadra smiled without thinking.
"Someone has far too much energy this morning."
She walked closer slowly.
The horse lifted its head, ears twitching. Instead of reaching out right away, Subhadra simply stood nearby and let the animal look at her first. Only after a few quiet moments did she gently stroke its neck, running her fingers through its glossy mane with the ease of long practice.
"There now…" she murmured almost to herself. "Are you now calm?"
The stallion snorted again, then lowered its head a little into her touch.
A nearby cavalrywoman looked over in surprise.
"Princess…"
Subhadra turned.
"That is a war horse recently inducted into the army. It may be dangerous."
Subhadra looked back at the horse and smiled.
"Not really. I think he's simply tired of standing still."
As if agreeing, the horse nudged her shoulder with its soft muzzle.
Several soldiers nearby exchanged surprised glances.
"…He never does that."
Subhadra laughed softly.
"Perhaps he was waiting for someone to greet him properly."
The horse's handler came forward and bowed.
"Your Highness… would you like to ride him?"
Subhadra's eyes brightened at once.
"May I?"
"Of course."
Without any fuss or taking anyone's support, she placed one foot in the stirrup and swung up in one smooth motion. More than one of the watching cavalrywomen raised an eyebrow. There was no awkward shifting, no uncertainty. She settled into the saddle as if she had done it a thousand times before, gathering the reins with quiet confidence.
She did not urge the horse forward at once. Instead, she leaned down and patted its neck gently.
"What do you think? A little run?"