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“No bhai, no!” Sharan sobbed. “I want Papa! I want Papa.”

“What did Papa say about being a Kshatriya?”

“That…” Sharan hiccuped. “We… we are always ready.”

“And are you ready?”

“Samarth bhai…”

Samarth softened his stance but kept his voice steady — “Come with me. All you have to do is sit there. Ok?”

Sharan’s big eyes, gone bigger in his gaunt face pleaded with him. Samarth grabbed a napkin from the counter and wiped his nose for him. He blew, then hiccuped. Taking his hand, Samarth positioned him in front of him — “Walk.”

They walked out to the sitting area to the group frozen to their spots.

“What do you want?” Giriraj Hukum asked Maarani.

“What do you mean?”

“Wait, Samarth,” Hukum commanded. He stopped, as did Sharan in front of him.

“Maarani Tara Sinh Solanki,” Hukum announced. “Do you want Nawanagar to be under a child or under a man who has already proved his worth?”

“Siddharth had agreed…”

“We all know why he had agreed. He is not here now. You have to decide.”

The room was plunged into silence.

“All those red waves, white waves, dusky waves,” Hukum pointed to her ring. “All waves in human mind. All kinds of waves. All humans have them — small or big, rich or poor, king or commoner. You know what sets the king apart from the commoner?”

Samarth didn’t like where this was going.

“A king will get over their basest thoughts, even at the cost of their own interest. And choose the greater good. The power to pull yourself out of yourself and think about others is what makes a human a leader.”

Samarth began to reach for Sharan’s shoulder to nudge him forward but his name stopped him.

“Samarth will assume the duties of running the kingdom, Maarani Tara. But should he assume them as your son’s minister or as the King of Nawanagar?”

“Hukum,” he interrupted. “I have sworn off the throne of Nawanagar. Sharan will sit on it, and I will be his protector until he grows up and becomes independent.”

“I am talking to the Maarani of Nawanagar, Kunwar,” Hukum’s stern voice put him in his place.

Maarani was frozen in her place, looking from one face to the other, lost. He hated this. She didn’t deserve to be put in this position when everything that was her safety net had been snatched away.

“Decide. You have to decide now, Maarani Tara,” Hukum pressured her. That was it. Samarth wasn’t Rawal of Nawanagar but he was the protector of his father’s wife. He began to open his mouth when Maarani’s solid voice echoed again.

“Samarth will be the next Rawal.”

“Tara…” her mother began but she went on — “Samarth will become Rawal.”

“Maarani,” Samarth stepped up to her, “I cannot accept your decision.”

She stared at him. He tried to convey to her to not cower, to not bow down to pressure. That he would fight alongside her on this.

“Come with me.”

She turned and walked into the King’s chambers. His Papa’s chambers. Now empty. Samarth walked inside and found that everything was just as it had always been, right down to the mobile charger that Papa used on the left side of his bed.

“Close the door, Samarth.”

He clicked it shut.

“Do this,” she turned to him. “Do this, Samarth.”

He shook his head — “I assure you that no harm will come to Sharan under my watch. Or Nawanagar. I promise to rule on his behalf until he grows up. But I cannot go back on my oath.”

“Your father did not want Sharan to be the king. He wanted you.”

“But he understood why I couldn’t be.”

“He is not here now and this was his wish. Do it for Papa, Samarth. Please, do it for him.”

He shook his head — “If anything, I should hold onto my promise tighter for him.”

Maarani grunted. She had never grunted like that, like she was somebody else. Somebody who was not a queen. Her face was exasperated, like she would grab him and whack his back like she did with Sharan when he was not listening.

“The roof is falling over our heads! We cannot hold onto our belongings! We have to hold up the roof, Samarth. Your foiba’s son is waiting to start a rebellion.

This is the time of transition, and more such vultures will come.

Nawanagar needs a strong leader, a king they know and trust. Sharan is not ready… ”

“But he will be, Maarani…”

“Please, let me say it.”

“Yes, Maarani.”

“We both know that Sharan is not ready to grow up into politics. Your father passed on his sports and politics to you, and he passed on his science to Sharan. He is nine, but it is clear where his aptitude lies. I have been deluding myself thinking that in time he will learn…”

“You are not deluding yourself, Maarani. He will. At his age even I wasn’t interested in these affairs…”

“You were holding mock courts and planning ways to make people come to you.”

“That was childishness.”

Maarani’s hands folded together — “I did this. All those years ago, I did this. I am sorry…”

“Don’t do this,” Samarth stepped back, horrified. “Please, Maarani.”

That silenced her momentarily.

“Let me leave with Sharan now,” he placated. “I have kept everybody waiting at court…”

“I relieve you of your oath.”

Samarth stilled. In front of his eyes, before he could even process it, she filled water into her palm — “I, Maarani Tara Sinh Solanki, relieve you of your oath. And as the Maarani of Nawanagar, I order you to take the throne of Nawanagar.”

Samarth watched in horror as she slipped the water into her mouth, just like he had dropped it to the ground many years ago. His hands and feet went cold. His breath collapsed. And yet nothing moved — not in his body, not in his brain.

Soft fingers pried something from his hands.

Samarth glanced down and saw her prying the Raj Sinh Mohar, keys and papers from his fingers.

Those same hands returned and touched his cheeks.

Samarth stared down at the woman who was his father’s wife.

Suddenly looking old and yet like… she was going to hold him up if he crumbled.

His breaths came faster. His nostrils felt warm.

Hot. Hot. Hot. Samarth opened his mouth to swallow whatever was coming but Maarani did not let his gaze leave hers.

“Samarth,” her thumbs pressed into his cheeks.

Hard. It hurt, and he wanted to ask her to stop.

He wanted to cry. His face dropped just in time to save the trickle of his tears from her gaze.

She nudged it back and he stared at her, crying.

He felt his eyebrows collapse, then his eyes, then all of his face as she held his jaw tighter.

“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki. Papa wanted that. I want that. And you will do that.”

He couldn’t hold himself up as his whole body collapsed. He didn’t even care because her arms came under his armpits to keep him from falling. When Samarth came up for air, he was crumpled on his father’s bed, his head buried into Maarani’s stomach, his sobs deafening even to his own ears.

“No…” he tried to push out but couldn’t. “No, no, no!” He sobbed, unable to stop. “Papa.”

Papa was gone. Papa was gone. Everybody was gone.

He screamed, inside himself or in Maarani’s stomach, he didn’t know.

No! No! No! Her hands pushed his head harder into her saree.

He shook. His shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his thighs.

He was shaking. He was alone. There was nobody for him anymore.

Papa had left without even seeing him one last time.

He gasped, coming to his senses. Realising that he wasn’t four anymore, crying for a mother who was never coming back.

He didn’t have the luxury to cry for a father who wasn’t coming back either.

Samarth took a deep, shuddering breath. His head dropped back, his mouth opening to apologise.

But it snapped shut when she pushed his hair off his forehead and thumbed his eyes clean.

They burned, but he stared transfixed at Maarani, drying his lashes like he had seen her do innumerable times for Sharan.

“Now be a good boy,” she said, just like she told Sharan all the time. “Stand up, and walk with me.”

Samarth knew what walking with her would mean.

He was not only trampling over his oath and his father and ancestors’s legacy but also adding his name to the list of throne-hungry vultures of his kingdom.

But what paled in front of all of those was the promise he had made to a girl not long ago.

He would be trampling over the life he had promised her.

But Sharan stood there, alone and clueless at that tender age.

Not ready to sit on a throne and lose his childhood.

And Maarani was walking away, out of her chambers, having lost her security blanket and still trusting him.

As he had done up until now in his life, Samarth took a deep breath, said Jai Dwarkadhish and chose what his wisdom pointed was right at that moment.

His eyes met Hukum’s and he looked steadfast. Samarth believed he knew better to have pushed this.

Maarani led him to the court that was in full attendance, the papers, keys and Raj Sinh Mohar in her hand.

She preceded him in a whirl of white, unconcerned with the gasps and open mouths of the courtiers at her sudden appearance.

Samarth kept walking, feeling the life drain out of him with every step.

She climbed the steps to the throne and turned to the waiting court.

“I, Tara Sinh Solanki, Maarani of Nawanagar, hand over the Raj Sinh Mohar of Nawanagar to Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki and declare him your next Rawal.”

Maarani offered the heavy royal stamp to him. And his palms automatically opened for it.

She moved aside and gestured to the throne. But he couldn’t bring himself to sit on it.

She caught his gaze and gave a valiant nod. Something in her eyes made his feet move.

He stepped to the throne, trying not to drag his feet.

“Sit, Samarth,” Maarani ordered.

He exhaled, and slowly lowered himself on the royal throne of his ancestors, the throne of his father and his grandfather.

Maarani reached out, pushed her thumb in the red kunku paste on the platter beside the throne and smeared it up his forehead.

His head bowed by reflex and her hand landed atop his head.

Tight, firm, like Papa’s used to. She just didn’t shake it playfully like he used to.

Instead, she patted it. Twice. Then one more time.

“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

As Maarani took three steps back from him in the new dictate of protocol, the court reverberated with a new chant.

“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

Samarth sat straight and saw her turn and leave the court to those chants. He had promised once that he would ensure her heirs remain safe and rule Nawanagar. He was still steadfast on that promise. This throne would pass onto Sharan. There would be no contestant to his claim.