Page 14

It was wrecking—her walking stealthily out of my uncle's chamber.

That sight anguished me, immensely.

I wanted to scream… scream my lungs out because I couldn't take it anymore.

I had no words to explain the depth of my pain.

My heart throbbed heavily, as if someone were stabbing it repeatedly with all their might.

That image—the state she was in—yes, it hurt me more than I could imagine.

How could she...

How could she stoop so low for revenge? She slept with an old man to teach me a lesson? Was she that desperate? Why so much vengefulness?

I fled out of the palace premises and marched to where my horse was.

Her actions infuriated me.

But I was beyond angry at that old man because he knew… he knew I was into that girl, yet he decided to marry her, and….

What man would sleep with a girl who was in love with his nephew?

Bastard! I would never spare him for that, ever.

He would pay for it.

Mounting my horse, I hurried back to Suryagarh.

Once I arrived, I stormed towards the servants' quarters and opened my room door.

Rummaging through my belongings, I searched for the sword my mother gave me when I was just seven years old to learn to combat.

Clutching its hilt, I drew the sword from the sheath and strode toward the royal court.

It was past midnight, and the place was dark and deserted.

The guards at the door glanced at me and the naked sword in my hand.

On instinct, they drew their swords and maneuvered to attack me.

I swiftly swung my sword, and the metallic clanging resonated in the empty corridors.

While I was engaged with the guards, chaos erupted as soldiers of the royal army joined in the combat.

I tried to push my way in, but suddenly one guard plunged his dagger into my arm.

I looked at him and immediately thrust my sword into his gut.

He screamed in excruciating pain, blood flowing out from the deep cut on his stomach, making him fall to his knees.

Instantly, other soldiers lunged at me with their swords, and I drew my sword from the wounded guard to engage them.

Blood trickled down my upper arm, but that did not stop me.

I didn't stop until I got to the throne.

I told him… I told him she was my woman, yet he dared to sleep with her.

To hell with him being my uncle and the King.

Two more soldiers fell to the ground, and suddenly, one of them fled.

Fuming with anger, I slaughtered a few more soldiers, knocking them over onto the ground.

As soon as I opened the gigantic doors of the hall, my gaze fell on the bejeweled throne, glimmering under the moonlight, streaming through the latticed marble windows.

The majestic hall echoed with my footsteps as I tread toward the dais.

I pulled the dagger out, which was penetrating my arm, causing profuse bleeding.

With a bloodied arm and attire, I climbed the stairs and stroked my fingers over the royal seat.

The velvety touch reminded me of all the harsh memories I had with the king, particularly the way he constantly insulted me for being the son of a low-level concubine.

It was a bitter reality that a person's status and class mattered more than their potential, proficiency, and hard work.

My mother was my father’s concubine and later became his first wife.

However, no members of the royal family accepted her wholeheartedly due to her social status.

They treated her worse than the bottom-rung attendees.

Even after my birth, this treatment persisted, and they called us the ‘illegitimate ones’.

We were kids; what was our fault? Why were we accused of a crime we never committed? Why did they treat us like culprits and look down on us, and why were we deprived of our rights? My father’s pyre consumed the little peace my mother had left.

Many people were responsible for all the miseries we endured.

The person who killed my father, the king, and those who blamed my siblings and me, simply because our mother was a slave.

The residents of the palace were her killers.

She was sick and isolated from everything, yet none of them, no one, came forward to help her, leaving her bereft of any medicinal support.

Despite all the struggles, she raised me like a prince and wished for me to become a great king who would protect his kingdom and its people.

And so I waited.

I waited for years to get what was mine because I wanted to fulfill my mother’s wish.

But some people are simply not worthy of our patience.

They always behave like the vipers they are.

One of them was undoubtedly the king, who had lost both sons, making me the next in line to succeed. But that old bastard valued blood and standards above everything.

But I had had enough of being nice to the king.

I had waited long enough for the right time.

Now it was time for me to take action.

I needed to make a higher jump because if I continued climbing the ladder, following smaller plans, this world would keep pulling my feet down, never allowing me to reach where I wanted to.

I had to, for Nandani.

Because she was the only person I ever called mine, I couldn't tolerate anyone eyeing what was mine.

How dare that scoundrel touch her? I was so enraged.

I sat on the throne, and closing my eyes, I promised myself to be menacing.

Suddenly, footsteps rushed into the hall, creating havoc.

I opened my eyes to find the chief of justice, the nobles, and all the courtiers present, accompanied by a troop of soldiers holding swords in their hands.

“What do you think you are doing sitting on the royal throne?”

the chief railed.

Turning the honed point of the sword toward the ground and slumping forward, I rested my bleeding arm on its pommel.

“Before the next moonrise, I will be the King.

Now, you all have two choices: swear your fealty to me or give up on your life.”

Chaos heightened in the room, and they all began to murmur to each other.

A few of them were my followers, who stepped forward and stood by my side.

Those who shared the ideology of ‘blood and status is everything and above’ with the king held their ground, and one of them opposed: “We will never serve the son of a slave.

Did you forget where you belong, ?”

I faced him.

“Well, my father was a prince, so rationally, I belong here, by blood and by strength.

And it is not ...

it is Rana Dev Singh,”

I roared, and the man stepped forward, attempting to threaten me.

“You know, one word from me and these soldiers will decapitate you and history will never know that someone like you ever existed,”

I chuckled at his venomous words.

“Calm down, my dear minister, don't strain your heart getting so riled up at such an age.

I'm afraid you might become history soon,”

his eyes widened in fury upon hearing my reply.

“Get him and throw him behind bars,”

he immediately commanded.

The soldiers instantly began moving toward me.

Standing up, I clenched the sword’s hilt and stretched my wrists, watching them.

“So….

none of you ever won combat while training with me,”

I said, taking my first step down the stairs.

“I wonder how brutal your death would be when I finally use my battling techniques today.”

They stopped at a distance, frozen in fear, because neither could they get their hands on me, nor could they ignore the minister’s command.

I descended the stairs and walked towards the ministers.

I pointed my swords at them and said, “You are not my target.

Go to that bastard, Surgami Dev Singh, and tell him his boy is waiting for him.

Let me kill him, and I will touch none of you.”

The ministers retreated, quivering, as my stature towered over them.

“He will be here shortly,”

they exclaimed, and I nodded.

Even though I had warned them, I looked at a group of soldiers lifting their swords to attack me.

But before their swords could reach me, I pushed mine against theirs and pulled out my dagger.

“So, you want it this way, hnn?”

One of them targeted my injured arm, while the others struggled to keep up with my speed.

“Ahhhh…”

the soldier cried loudly as I plunged my sword into his stomach, making him fall to the ground.

I attacked the others.

A few were killed, and a few were injured.

The hall reverberated with violent screams and reeked of blood.

By that time, my prime target arrived, shouting authoritatively.

“What the heck are you doing?”

I turned around to see him holding a sword, and the mere sight of him antagonized me.

Death—a normal death wouldn't be enough.

I wanted to afflict him with so much pain, torment him, give him a slow, agonising death, so he would regret what he did to my girl.

“I’m claiming what's yours like you did with what’s mine,”

I said, dropping my sword and sprinting to him.

Clutching his neck, I pushed him against the wall at full strength.

A group of soldiers attacked me from behind, slashing my back, but my hold on him did not loosen, not even a bit.

Blood rushed to his face as he struggled for air and writhed in my hands to escape.

“How dare you? How could you even think of that?”

I growled at him, and suddenly he shoved a dagger into my abdomen.

My knees weakened, and my hold detached from his neck.

He gasped for breath, coughing, and barked out a laugh.

“That girl is promiscuous and a little minx.

She offered to sleep with her,”

This was it; the moment those words slipped out of his mouth, I curled my right hand into a fist and delivered a strong punch right to the side of his jaw, holding his shoulder with the other hand.

“She's everything I've got, and you did not spare her either,”

I gritted, and a squad of soldiers lunged at me, tearing my skin, making me bleed, but the strength in my hands did not for once falter while punching that old bastard in his guts.

He fell on his knees, throwing up blood, and the soldiers drew me back.

Circling, they attacked me and I tried to match their blows, simultaneously pulling the dagger out of my stomach.

The sting made me breathe out a howl, wincing in pain.

I again charged at them, and the King scrambled away in the middle of the battle.

“You will never get the throne until I am alive,”

He yelled, standing at the exit and turning towards the soldiers he commanded, “Kill him.”

The tremor of fear in his tone did not go unnoticed by me.

And the troop sprang at me.

The soldiers who were on my side, and I fought them back.

With the sunrise, the cries of pain also rose.

Hundreds were wounded, and a few died.

However, the King fled with a small convoy.

I fell on my knees with hundreds of gashes on my body, bleeding grievously.

Despite the ongoing battle and the king’s survival, the throne’s vacancy and the absence of a ruler threatened disruption in the kingdom.

Therefore, as regent, I claimed the royal prerogative to ensure the kingdom’s stability and progress.

But that wasn't enough.

Although I had only a battalion of soldiers on my side, the royal army of the state included soldiers who supported him.

Despite being their head commander, their true loyalty lay with him.

The sun, blazing at its peak, indicated it was afternoon, and I was still fighting the battle.

That boneheaded king ordered his army to fight me and then fled; therefore, I could never win because the battle is only considered won when the current ruler is dead.

The sun set until the last soldier thudded to the ground, leaving me with the people by my side.

My stance was unsteady as I fought thousands of soldiers alone in the long battle.

But the bloody day had not ended.

For now, I was in the regency, a temporary king.

And no king and kingdom would ever be complete without a queen.

The time had come to bring the Queen to her kingdom.

***