Page 30

As she turned her head sideways, her beautiful eyes twinkled like stars in the moonlight, and her thick lashes fluttered darkly, resembling a forest of mysteries.

Her skin glowed like the moon itself in the night.

Everything about her was flawless, from the way she talked and carried herself to the way she looked at me.

It felt as if she knew the effect she had on me, gazing into my eyes with those innocent yet tempting eyes.

I didn’t know if it was something she learned from her seduction lessons, but she was indeed aware of how to make me stare at her face, how to make me attracted enough that I could not suppress my urges around her.

Everything about her was so pleasing.

It felt calm and peaceful just to stare at her a little longer.

I took a deep breath and replied, “Tomorrow we’ll know whether the neighbouring states are with me.

This will decide my future as a king.

And, if the majority favours my ruling, new peace treaties will be signed, and maybe the Yagna will be held sooner.

Which means the end of my celibacy,”

“Hard work and dedication always pay off,”

she said.

I gulped, as her words reminded me of all the times—when I was a kid and when I became an adult—the work that I had done: the hard work, the workouts, the education, and the sacrifices.

It evoked memories of all the times I cried in pain, of both visible and invisible injuries.

“I hope so,”

I mumbled, lost in thought.

Closing my eyes, I drew her closer and rested my chin on her head.

I couldn’t decipher why, but being with her made me feel so complete.

There were times when I wondered why, even after going through numerous difficulties and struggling so much in life, I didn’t embrace—part of me wasn't content with any of it.

For me, failures were lessons, and everything I had endured was a path that led me to where I was.

Our hardships refine us, and no life is free from struggles and failures.

My Guruji taught me that our mind and body are shaped this way: we need something to keep us engaged.

We can’t sit idly for too long because our brains never stop processing.

They always seek.

And I enjoyed my life that way, for I loved challenges, tackling problems.

It was fruitful, but never peaceful.

I only realised that after marrying her.

My thoughts conflicted between what I wanted and what I was bound to do.

Did I want this peace—or was I supposed to keep striving for the kingdom? What did I really want? I had a list of goals I hoped to achieve in thirty years, believing that attaining them would bring me happiness.

But now, I wasn't so sure.

Having everything and not her—the thought alone chilled me to the bone.

Like, how would I survive even a day without seeing her, hearing her voice, touching her, and feeling her?

She completed me.

I felt her body relax, telling me she had fallen asleep.

She must’ve been tired from our little make-out session.

I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes, too.

Waking up earlier the following day, I quietly observed her, still in a deep sleep.

I gently caressed her cheek, waking her slowly, “Get up, little wife,”

She shifted slightly when she heard my voice and mewled away to the other side, covering her face with the comforter.

Alright, she was in deep sleep.

Sliding closer, I pulled the comforter down her face.

“Nandani, you have so much work to do,”

I said, nudging her gently.

“Daadisa, sone dijiye na.

Hum thake hue hain kal raatri se,”

(Daadisa, let me sleep, please.

I’m tired from last night.) she replied, and a wide smile etched over my face.

She must have been dreaming.

I didn’t have the heart to wake her as her voice came out adorably soft.

Getting up, I picked her up in my arms to take her to the bedchamber since the bright sun could disturb her sleep.

Placing her gently over the mattress, I covered her with the comforters.

“Sleep tight, little bird,”

I whispered, kissing her forehead.

Tucking herself tighter in the comforter, she mumbled, “Thank you, Ranaji.”

After drawing the curtains, I followed my morning routine—freshening up, meditating, working out, bathing, getting ready, and praying.

When I stepped out of the prayer room, my gaze fell on the attendees, whispering in hushed tones.

“Ranisa is still sleeping,”

“What!?”

“Yes,”

“But it’s really late.”

The chatter halted as I cleared my throat, and they all turned stiff.

“Let Ranisa sleep.

Don’t wake her up,”

I said, and they bowed in acceptance.

From there, I went to meet Agastya and Ranvijay in the meeting hall.

“Bhaisa,”

They both stood as soon as I walked in, and my sight fell on a pile of papers, some scrolls and bundled letters on a table.

“Please, sit,”

I said, taking a seat.

“Is the assessment done, Agastya?”

I asked, and I could feel the edge in my voice, steady yet stressed.

I scanned his face as he took a momentary pause and nodded, “Ji, Bhaisa.”

I didn't miss the strain in his tone, and I knew what he was about to say wouldn’t exactly be honey to my ears.

I watched silently as he unfolded one document and placed it between us on the table.

“Our situation is not very pleasant,”

He said, pointing his finger at one of the many entries in the list—Defence.

“We’re not available with enough resources to reorganise our defence system, which is lacking.

I’m afraid we’re not well equipped to fight a mighty force like Mahabaleshgarh and the eight kingdoms of the south, the Sinds.

Undoubtedly, our fort is well-constructed, and because of its structure atop hills, we have an advantage over the advancing enemies.

Still, at such heights, the drainage and water channels function poorly. A major part of our finances is spent on bringing water from the mainland,”

I listened to him attentively as he detailed.

“Also, we must enlist new soldiers in our army since the last recruitment took place two decades ago, leaving us with many aged forces,”

He finished, and I nodded.

“I assumed that.

No doubt why the old king lost his sons,”

He nodded, and added, “The resources we’re left with are just twenty per cent of what Suryagarh possessed back then at grandfather’s reign,”

and it hit me.

Suryagarh was a prosperous kingdom in its prime—its grandeur and brilliance still captivated people’s eyes.

And I believed that, like us, many were unaware of its glorious past.

“That old bastard stripped the kingdom to its roots,”

I cursed under my breath, and Agastya again spoke.

“And, Bhaisa, this list does not include the assets which we were to receive from Mahabaleshgarh on your marriage.”

As soon as he finished, I looked sharply into his eyes.

“That will never be included.

The only association I have with Mahabaleshgarh is Nandani; nothing else,”

Gulping, he lowered his gaze to the papers.

“In that case, we must formulate new strategies to restore our assets, because without sufficient resources, we’ll achieve nothing,” he said.

“I agree,”

Ranvijay added, and they looked at me for a response.

“I understand.

But we’ll have to think of a way to do everything without burdening the people,” I stated.

“I believe our immediate needs will be met once I marry the Princess of Songarh,”

Ranvijay said, and I glanced at him.

“No, that will be your and your wife’s personal wealth.”

“It is a political marriage, Bhaisa.

Nothing is personal,”

he retorted, yet I shook my head.

“No, that wealth is for you and the princess.

You can contribute a part of it, if you wish.

But we cannot put it to use directly for the kingdom,”

I said, and he looked down, sadly, when Agastya spoke.

“Bade Bhaisa is right, Bhaisa.

You may lend us the money and we’ll return it once we are well off—”

“Who is lending to whom?”

Suddenly, Nandani walked into the meeting hall, looking fresh and radiant.

My eyes immediately fell on her neck.

Although she had covered it with the dupatta, I could still see the outlines of the dark bruise.

“Ranvijay Bhaisa might lend to the royal treasury,”

Agastya informed her, and I shot him a warning glance.

“Why so?”

She asked as she swept in my direction and stood beside me elegantly.

“We’re looking for a source of revenue to rebuild the kingdom and working on people’s welfare,”

Agastya said, and Ranvijay offered, “Please have a seat, Bhabhisa.”

I scooted a little for her to sit, and she looked closely at the papers.

“How long can we survive with what we have now?”

She asked, sitting beside me, and I frowned at the sudden question.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Breaking the silence, Agastya answered in a distressed tone, “Hardly, five years, if nothing bad happens—no extra expenses covered.

We might survive these years, but with no revenue growth,”

she nodded thoughtfully.

“And how long until we rebuild the palace's outskirts and sponsor the people's food and education?”

He gulped nervously, sneaking a glance at me, shaking his head lightly.

“The reconstruction of the outskirts of the palace will take almost eighty per cent of the royal treasure,”

Ranvijay answered instead.

“With that, we will have only one year to survive,”

Agastya said.

She turned to me.

“Ranaji, we must start the reconstruction process as soon as possible,”

she began, and I looked at her uncertainly.

“What I mean to say is, if the subjects live closer to the palace, the gap between the royalty and the people will lessen.

Commoners will show interest in joining the royal army and staff, eventually building trust between us.

When our people have faith in us, the neighbouring states can also place their trust in us.

They will see that you are here, not just to rule but to provide,”

Tuning fully to face, she spoke seriously, “Your claim on the throne is not temporary.

So have a vision—a long-term goal in mind.

You can attract investments and loans by showing that we are prospering and ready to offer.

Once we have the flow of revenue right, we can use that to strengthen our defence system,”

she suggested.

“But, Bhabhisa, we cannot risk everything just for this.

If, in between, we are attacked, we might not survive the war,”

Ranvijay brought up, and I nodded.

“He’s got a point here,”

Taking a deep breath, she sat straight and said, “Then, I will take charge of it.

Let me sponsor,”

Suddenly, a wave of shock and silence echoed loudly in the hall.

We all looked at her, stunned.

“How?”

I asked, and she lowered her gaze.

“Since I cannot ask for any support from Mahableshgarh,”

she spoke, gazing at me.

“I will conduct an auction to sell the extra jewellery I received from my kingdom and have as the queen of Suryagarh.”

I immediately denied. “No,”

my brothers also showed disagreement.

“Why?”

she questioned.

I looked at her, lifting my brows, daring her to repeat herself.

She locked her eyes challengingly with me.

“Those ornaments are mine.

I can use them however I want.

And I want to help.

It is better to do it this way than simply donating them.”

I shook my head.

“No, that's not happening,” I said.

“Why? They are mine.

I can use them as I want,”

she retorted with unwavering determination.

“No, Nandani, that is not happening.

You’re right.

They are yours, not meant to be spent on the kingdom’s affairs.

So, it’s a no,”

I clarified, and she immediately stood up.

“Then, I’m not asking you,”

she exclaimed, and I inhaled a deep breath, not believing how she could say that.

“What do you mean?”

I asked, and she looked at me like she had decided.

“That belongs to me.

And, I think I can decide on my assets.

Whether to keep or to sell is in my hands,”

she replied, and I gritted, “But, Nandani, you can—”

“Ranaji,”

an attendant walked into our heated discussion, and we all looked at him.

I gestured for him to continue.

Bowing, he informed us, “Everyone is waiting for the meeting in the courtroom.”

As he finished, we all looked at each other.

Agastya began folding the scrolls, and Ranvijay nodded at me, standing up.

“I think it's time,”

I said, rising to my feet, and looked at Nandani.

“I’ll talk to you later,”

I said, and she nodded curtly.

“All the best,”

she muttered slowly.

Ranvijay and Agastya had already left the hall.

Stepping forward, I gently kissed her forehead, holding her face.

In her arms, I visibly relaxed, and my heart rate calmed down as I was anxious about the outcome.

Well, no matter how much we try, we can never completely rid ourselves of the nervousness that arises before the results, which often shape our actions.

The fear of results sometimes hampers our confidence and performance.

However, success or failure depends mainly on the process itself.

And if we spend too much time thinking of the end, we lose focus on giving our best in the present.

I took a step away, and she gave a warm smile.

I knew she was too worried about the outcomes, but she concealed it behind her neutral expression.

Turning around, I followed Agastya and Ranvijay and walked into the courtroom.

The attendants pushed the door open for us, and I stepped inside, taking a deep breath.

My sight landed on everyone seated—gossiping, murmuring—suddenly stopping, and heads turned in my direction.

The soft thud of my heels against the marble floor echoed in the silent room as I marched in, with Agastya and Ranvijay close behind.

The free end of my silk shawl, usually draped over my left shoulder, brushed against the floor with every step I took toward the throne.

Climbing the stairs, I turned to look at everyone before taking a seat.

In a glance, I recognized every significant personality who needed to be present, and then I looked at Ranvijay.

“Please proceed with the hearing.”

bowing in respect, he said, “Ranaji, matdaan se poorv, hum ek baar punah navkrut niyamoan ka uccharaan sabhi ki upasthiti mein karna chaahenge,”

(Ranaji, before the voting takes place, I would like to repeat the revised rules once again in everyone's presence.)

“Awashya,”

(Sure.) I allowed him.

Facing everyone, he began reading the new regulations.

“Songarh se humein har maas jo senya sahaayata praapt hogi uske sthaan par hum wahaan jwaar va baajre ki poorti karenge.

Cheeranjeevigarh se humaara anya anaajoan ka len-den rahega.

Iske atirikt anya rajyoan se jo bhi vyapar hoga vo aawashyakta anusaar hoga, anayatha, jab aavashyakta padegi, tab hoga.

Sabhi rajyoan aur Suryagarh ke madhya yudh ki stheeti uttapanna nahi hogi, aur yadi kisi aur rajya ke saath yudh hoga to sabhi rajya humein sainya bal va samarthan pradaan karenge.

Suryagarh bhi aavashyakta padne par peeche nahi hatenge, iske atirikt, jin rajyoan ke saath niji pratastav hai, ve unke shaanti prastaav lekh me varnit hai,”

(In return for the defence support we will receive from Songarh every month, we will supply them with barley and millet.

With Cheeranjeevigarh, other food crops will be traded fairly.

Also, trading with other states will be based on necessity, or when required.

There will be no war scenario between Suryagarh and any of the allied states.

If there is a warlike situation with an enemy kingdom, all the states will provide us with military support and assistance. Suryagarh too will not step back when needed. Except for these, other clauses are added to the respective contracts of each of the states for confidentiality reasons.)

When he was done, I looked at the kings seated with blank faces.

The tension in the air was palpable, and the silence that followed was profound.

Ranvijay then announced, “Now, we should start the voting.”

Just as he finished, one of the members abruptly rose from his seat.

“Wait,”

Everyone was astonished by his intrusion, and he looked at me.

“Ranaji, we are all very well aware of the current situation of Suryagarh.

But many of us are afraid to bring this into the light,”

He said, taking a deep breath.

I scratched the nail of my forefinger at the side of my thumb as I listened to him further.

“We all heartily congratulate you on becoming the king.

You surely are the most deserving one.

Yet we, as kingdoms, are here, agreeing to help you in any warfare, right?”

He asked, and I nodded.

“Yes, absolutely,”

I answered.

“We all will agree to it, but on one condition,”

he animated it for me with his hands.

I straightened myself and asked, “What condition?”

Raking his eyes at everyone in the hall once, he continued, “You see, Ranaji, we’re all the kings of small states.

We do not hold much power.

If in the future, in any way, a large kingdom attacks Suryagarh, they might destroy us too,”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I asked, “Kingdom like which?”

Rubbing his chin, he looked down for a brief moment and lifted his eyes back to look at me confidently, saying, “Kingdom like Mahabaleshgarh”

Suddenly, the hall erupted with people’s murmurings, and I rose from my seat.

“Don’t try to step out of the line,”

I said politely, balling my palms into fists, controlling my emotions.

He smiled warmly.

“I’m not even trying to, Ranaji.

But none of us here is deprived of the information on the shared history of both the kingdoms.

Then this forced marriage between you and Princess Rajnanadani.

I don't know why they did not object to it, but I’m certain the ties between the kingdoms are strained. And this might eventually lead to a war between two massive kingdoms. All the present kings and I want a peace treaty to be signed between Mahabaleshgarh and Suryagarh, before any peace treaties are signed between Suryagarh and other states,”

He concluded, and I inhaled deeply.

I tried to calm my anger and looked at everyone.

The silence made it evident—they all agreed with him.

But, Mahabaleshgarh. No.

“This is impossible,”

I said firmly, and he blinked, lowering his gaze for a moment.

A heavy silence followed.

“Then I take a step back from signing the peace treaty,”

he said.

“There will be no use of those peace treaties if we deploy our defence systems for the wars between these two kingdoms.

My state and I would like to stay independent.”

I clenched my jaw tight.

Tension grew in the room, and suddenly, Ranvijay asked, “Who all agrees with King Uday Singh ji?”

My breathing quickened, and I found most of the kings standing in his support.

I felt my heart beating a little faster.

Ranvijay and Agastya looked at me, and I inhaled a deep breath.

I had to answer.

My problems were nowhere near decreasing.

In no world could I sign a peace treaty with Mahabaleshgarh—not until the king and the queen were alive.

They were the reason why we suffered so much.

Like, how could someone kill the other so effortlessly? That too, for something wrong.

She was promised to my father, and they both killed my father.

No way, I couldn’t sign a peace treaty with them.

Yes, I knew that Nandani and I had got married, but a peace treaty—that was too much.

But I had to speak—something.

“I want you all to wait and see what we can do in this regard,”

I said, and they looked at each other before sitting down.

But the person who proposed this was still standing, looking at me.

“Ranaji, this peace treaty is essential in so many ways,”

I immediately replied, “Yeah, I heard that.”

He shut his mouth.

“Now, I want you all to rest and enjoy today's special lunch,”

I said, stepping down from the throne.

My mind had already scrambled beyond control.

I sprinted out of the courtroom, ending the conversation without realizing what its conclusion was.

Moving toward our chamber, I went to the rooftop because I needed time alone to think and settle my thoughts.

The day passed as I walked back and forth, creating countless scenarios and thinking of endless possibilities.

The sun hid behind the horizon, and I witnessed the nightfall right before my eyes.

I called an attendee and asked him to bring a mattress and a comforter.

I decided to sleep on the terrace.

Looking at her face would’ve only reminded me of our condition.

And I didn't want to hurt her.

The attendee returned with what I asked, and I laid the bed.

Removing my kurta, I lay down and looked at the stars.

I closed my eyes and kept thinking of other ways to solve the problem.

We, no doubt, needed the support of these states to ensure our victory against Mahabaleshgarh.

So, how was I supposed to sign a peace treaty with them?

Time passed, and at midnight, when I was still deep in my thoughts, I heard the faded sound of the anklets’ bells.

I opened my eyes and looked at her approaching.

Standing beside me, she said in a hurt voice.

“I was looking for you for so long.”

***