Chapter 2

“I thought Jayari was the smartest man alive.” Prince Salva said, his voice sharp. “Now look at you. Running from the kingdom you wanted to rule.”

Jayari sat in the dim tavern of Athiratha. The air smelled of stale ale and sweat. His cheeks burned. “That fool!” he muttered, slamming his fist on the table. “The cook.”

He had entrusted the cook with a straightforward task. Mix the herbs into the Dhruv wine. That’s all. But no. The cook messed it up. And King Chandra? Dead.

Jayari’s eyes burned. He could still see it all. The plan. The failure. The fall. Now here he was. Hiding. Fuming. The prince’s words echoed in his head. Running away.

“You think I wanted to run, you spoiled brat?” Jayari shot back at Salva. His voice was sharp, like a blade cutting through the air. “But thanks to that fool, I had no choice. He talked when he should’ve stayed quiet. Now the whole kingdom’s hunting me.”

Salva leaned back in his chair. His fingers brushed his chin as he thought. “And the bounty on your head? How does that feel?”

Jayari clenched his fists. “I’m alive, aren’t I? Here in Athiratha, they can’t touch me, Prince.” His voice rose, defiant. “I have a plan.” His eyes burned with something dark. Dangerous.

Salva chuckled. The sound was low, almost mocking. It didn’t match his young face. “Ah, a plan. Let me guess. Slither back into Kirita’s courts? Claim the throne?”

Jayari’s gaze turned icy. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows across his face. “Not yet,” he said, his voice steady. “First, I need to survive. Here. Now.”

Prince Salva leaned forward, his curiosity sharp. “You think you’re safe here?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “If I tell my father how you treated me in Kirita, you won’t live to see another day. King Sumiyan doesn’t forgive those who harm his son.”

Jayari didn’t flinch. “King Sumiyan may not tolerate a weak son. A son outsmarted by someone unknown.” He leaned back, his eyes gleaming with confidence.

Prince Salva’s face turned red. His anger burned like fire. “How dare you speak to me like that!” His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, knuckles white with rage.

Jayari’s smile stayed calm. “My prince, there’s no need for anger,” he said smoothly. “But maybe we’re looking at this wrong. Why should we be enemies?”

Prince Salva’s grip on his sword loosened just a little. His mind raced. Was Jayari right?

Jayari leaned in, his voice low. “Think about it. We could be allies. Stronger together.”

The prince hesitated. His pride fought with his logic. Jayari’s words hung in the air. Simple. Direct. It was simply impossible to ignore.

The prince’s hand fell from his sword. He took a deep breath. “Explain yourself,” he said, his voice steady now.

Jayari’s smile widened. “Gladly.” He leaned in, his voice low. “An alliance.”

“We both want something,” he continued. “Let’s help each other get it. You want the throne of Athiratha. I want power. We can help each other.”

Prince Salva’s eyes locked onto Jayari’s. “How can I trust you?” His voice was cold.

Jayari’s smile grew. “You don’t have to. But don’t you need me?”

He paused. Let the words sink in.

“I know how the politics of the court work, not just in Kirita but also in Athiratha. With my help, you won’t just stay a prince. You’ll be king. Your brother, Sayan—he is your father’s favorite, isn’t he? But accidents happen. And when they do, the throne is yours.”

Jayari leaned back. “As for me? I want to see Dhruv fall. I want to watch him crumble under his own power.”

Salva’s eyes narrowed. His mind raced. Being the eldest, the throne was Sayan’s by birthright. King Sumiyan favored the crown prince. Many in court also considered Sayan far superior in military and administration than Salva. Without Sayan, he would rise as the only remaining male heir.

But Jayari ... The man was a snake. Still, snakes could be useful. If controlled.

Salva’s jaw tightened. “What’s your plan?”

Jayari leaned back, his eyes drifting to the fireplace. The flames crackled softly, casting shadows on the walls. “Patience, my prince,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Patience. I have connections. I know where Kirtia is strong—and where it’s weak. We have the ability to subdue both Kirtia and Athiratha. But first, we need to secure your power here.”

Prince Salva’s eyes lit up. Greed. Power. He’d always hated his brother. Could he be sitting on Athiratha’s throne? It was close. It was too close to ignore. “What do you need from me?” he whispered, his voice low and sharp.

Jayari stepped closer. “I need an audience with your father, King Sumiyan. I have information. I have information that will pique his interest. Information that could tip the balance of power in our favor.”

Prince Salva’s gaze narrowed. His father was a man of strategy. He was a man who listened to reason, particularly when power was at stake. He thought for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “But remember this. One misstep, and you won’t leave this place alive. I won’t protect you forever.”

Jayari’s smile twisted, sharp and sly. “I understand the terms, Your Highness,” he said softly. His eyes flicked to the blade resting at Salva’s side. “You won’t regret trusting me.”

Prince Salva stared at him. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. A long moment passed before he finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll arrange the meeting. But if you betray me...” He leaned closer, his voice low. “You won’t just run. You’ll plead for your life before I finish.”

Jayari’s grin didn’t waver. “Your trust means everything, Your Highness. And don’t worry—I won’t betray you. Our goals are the same, after all.”

The two men rose. Salva led Jayari out of the tavern and into the streets of Athiratha. The city buzzed with life. The air smelled of spices and sweat. But between the two men, tension hung heavy.

Jayari kept his smile. But his eyes? They darted. They were vigilantly on the lookout for any potential Kirita spies. Salva walked ahead, his hand never far from his blade. He didn’t trust Jayari. Not yet.

The sun was just rising when Jayari and Prince Salva reached the castle gates of Athiratha. The massive wooden doors, covered in iron, stood tall and threatening. The early light made the stone walls glow, but Jayari felt no warmth. He knew what waited inside—power, danger, and betrayal. A single misstep could lead to his demise.

He had been here before, in secret. But today was different; he was the prince’s ally. He was a traitor of the kingdom he served. However, there was a full opportunity. He had to be careful.

The guards at the gates recognized Prince Salva. They nodded as he passed. But their eyes lingered on Jayari. Suspicious. Silent. They let him through.

Inside, the halls were grand. Tapestries hung on the walls, showing battles won and enemies crushed. The air smelled of ambition. Of power.

King Sumiyan sat on his throne, his sharp eyes fixed on the two men before him. He hadn’t seen his son, Salva, in weeks. But now, here he was. And something about him felt ... different. The king’s instincts prickled. Something was off. His son was in the company of someone from the rival kingdom, Kirita’s royal minister, Jayari. His spies informed him of the new coronation of new king Dhruv and the death of old King Chandra by Jayari.

Salva stepped forward, his voice steady. “Father, I’ve brought someone. This individual possesses valuable knowledge about Kirita. He wants to serve our kingdom. In exchange, he asks for your protection and an audience.”

The king’s gaze shifted to Jayari. His face gave nothing away. “Speak,” he growled, his voice low and heavy.

Jayari stepped forward. He didn’t flinch. His eyes locked with the king’s. “Your Majesty, I bring news of discontent in Kirita’s court. Deceit. I can help you crush your enemies before they even know you’re coming. With your power and my knowledge, we can change everything.”

King Sumiyan leaned back, his expression still unreadable. A low growl escaped his lips. “Tell me more,” he said, his voice sharp and demanding.

Jayari didn’t hesitate. He spun his tale like a spider weaving its web. He spoke of Kirita’s court—its flaws, its cracks. He depicted a kingdom on the brink of collapse. “The people are restless. King Chandra’s death would leave chaos in its wake.”

Salva’s eyes gleamed with hunger. But King Sumiyan? His face stayed still as stone. He was no stranger to games of power. Words alone wouldn’t move him. “Why should I trust you? Last I heard, it was you who plotted King Chandra’s death.”

Jayari knew this. He reached into his robes and pulled out a rolled parchment. With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled it. He unfolded a map of Kirita.

Jayari pointed to the map. Hidden wealth. Military secrets. Names of those who could be bought. “This,” he said softly, “is just the beginning.”

The king leaned forward.

“With this,” Jayari continued, “you could strike at Kirita’s heart. Claim it for Athiratha. King Chandra’s death was not my fault. It was Dhruv. All I ask in return? Your protection. And the chance to see the new King Dhruv fall.”

The king’s gaze shifted from the map to Jayari. His eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “Your idea ... it’s interesting,” he said slowly. “But words aren’t enough. I need action. Proof. Something to show you’re worth the risk you’re asking me to take.”

Jayari’s expression turned cold. “Of course, Your Highness,” he replied, bowing slightly. “I understand your caution. I won’t let you down. When the time comes, I’ll do whatever it takes to secure Kirita in your name.”

The king leaned back, his fingers tapping the armrest. “Kirita,” he muttered. “A prize, yes. However, it also carries a risk. One wrong move, and everything falls apart.”

Jayari nodded. “True. But with the right plan, we can make it work. Trust me.”

Crown Prince Sayan stepped closer, his sharp eyes fixed on Jayari. The man was a snake—no doubt about it. But Sayan couldn’t deny his cunning. Perhaps he was too clever for his own good.

“Son, what do you think?” King Sumiyan turned to his favorite son. His voice cut through the heavy silence. “Should we trust this cunning fox?”

Salva, standing nearby, stayed quiet.

Sayan turned to his father. “Let’s consider his offer,” he said carefully. “If his knowledge can strengthen Athiratha, it might be worth the risk. But we can’t trust him. Not fully.”

King Sumiyan nodded, aware that his son’s doubts were well-founded, given Jayari’s track record of betrayal, shady dealings, and broken promises.

However, the opportunity was too tempting to ignore.

“Very well,” the Sumiyan said after a long pause. His voice was calm but firm. “You may stay in our court, Jayari. However, bear in mind that we will closely monitor your actions. Any sign of betrayal, and you will face swift punishment. Do you understand?”

Jayari nodded. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “I do, Your Highness. Thank you for your mercy and trust. I will not disappoint you.”

The guards led Jayari away. Sayan stepped closer to Salva, his voice low. “Be careful, brother. That man is dangerous. He’s playing a game. And I’m not sure we even know all the rules. Or who’s really on his side.”

Salva nodded. His inner voice laughed at his brother’s words. He knew the risks when he made the deal with Jayari. But there was a chance to claim the kingdom—his kingdom—that was too tempting to ignore. Jayari’s knowledge could be the key. This knowledge could provide the power he needed.

Days later, the castle felt heavy with grief. The halls, once alive with laughter, now whispered with sadness. Chandra, the old king, had died.

The wooden door creaked open. Moonlight spilled into the room. There she was—Queen Pari. Her sorrow filled the space like a shadow.

King Dhruv walked toward her chamber. His heart ached.

He found her by the window. Moonlight wrapped around her like a soft blanket. She looked beautiful. But her face? Pain had left its mark.

In her hand, she held her father’s ring. Tight. It’s as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

“My Queen,” he said, his voice soft, almost fragile.

Pari looked up. Their eyes met. He was heavy with sorrow. But there was something else. Something deeper.

“You’re the rightful heir now,” she whispered. The words barely left her lips. “As my father’s son-in-law, the throne is yours. His legacy. His kingdom.”

She placed the ring in his hands.

“It’s not just about the throne,” she said, her eyes locking onto his. “You must protect everything he loved. Our family. Nandini and Uma. Our people. Our lands. Our ... legacy.”

Pari’s voice trembled. “Nandini and Uma knew my father’s secrets. His lovers. His confidants. They saw the shadows of the court. My father trusted them with truths no noble could see or hear.”

Dhruv’s thoughts raced. The idea felt strange. Yet, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

The two beautiful women were older than him. They were his father-in-law’s concubines. Now, they were to be his. The thought stirred something in him.

But then there was a promise. He had made a promise to Chandra to protect the family.

He stepped closer to Pari. His hand rested on her shoulder. “I will honor your father’s legacy. His trust in them ... will be mine too.”

She stared at him, searching his face. For hesitation. For doubt. But all she found was resolve.

Dhruv continued. “We will treat them as esteemed members of the court, not just as concubines.”

Her eyes narrowed. She needed to be sure.

Dhruv nodded. “They’re under my protection now. Like my mother.”

He took a deep breath. Turned. Walked out of the room. His mind? A storm. His body? His body was as tight as a coiled spring.

The corridor stretched ahead. Quiet. Torches flickered, casting shadows that danced on the walls. His footsteps echoed. Slow. Heavy. It echoed through the silence like a drumbeat.

Dhruv’s heart pounded as he reached the door. The guard outside gave a nod. Respectful. Silent.

The weight of his new role hit him. Hard. He paused. He placed his hand on the door and pushed it open.

He stepped inside. Inside, the room was dim. Candles burned low, their light soft. Warm.

The silk curtains fluttered around him. Candlelight danced on their faces. The air smelled of incense and perfume.

He froze. They were beautiful. Vulnerable.

Nandini stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. She saw him. Gasped. Uma woke up. Her eyes widened in shock.

They stared at him. They then turned their attention to the king’s ring. They knew what it meant. He is their king.

“Your Highness,” Nandini began, her voice soft, almost a whisper. She sat up, the silk sheets slipping down. Her eyes met his, steady but unsure. “We are at your service.”

Dhruv swallowed hard. His throat felt dry, like sandpaper. “I’m not here to claim you as property,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m here to honor my father-in-law’s legacy. He respected you. He respected you not just as lovers but also as confidants. I will do the same. You’ll have my trust. My respect.”

Nandini’s gaze lingered on his face, searching. “And what does this mean, Your Highness?”

He stepped closer. His hand found hers. Her skin was warm, sending a jolt through him. “It means you’re not just concubines to me. You’re advisors. Friends.”

Nandini’s eyes locked onto his. She breathed in deeply. “What do you want from us, Your Highness?”

Dhruv stepped closer. His throat tightened, but his voice didn’t waver. “I need you to keep serving the kingdom. Be my advisors. Teach me the ways of the court—things I don’t yet understand.”

Uma said, cautious but firm. “And what about our ... other responsibilities?”

He looked at her. “Those ... those will stay. But they’ll be your choice. Not an order.”

The room buzzed with tension. Unspoken words hung in the air, sharp and electric.

Dhruv’s hand reached out, brushing Uma’s cheek. His thumb traced the line of her jaw. “If you come to my bed, it’ll be because you want to. Not because you have to.”

He turned to face them. The candlelight flickered across his sharp features. “I won’t force you,” he said. His voice was calm but firm. “If you want to leave, I’ll give you your freedom. But if you stay—” He paused. His eyes held a quiet promise. “If you stay, we’ll share more than secrets. We’ll share passion.”

Nandini and Uma glanced at each other. Surprise. Intrigue. The young king stood tall. Commanding. His eyes burned with fire. It was a fire that made them shiver.

Nandini, older and wiser, stepped close to him. “You’re a man to be reckoned with, Your Highness,” she said, her voice soft, almost like a song.

Uma always found Dhruv attractive. But now? He was different. Her eyes had lingered on him, filled with something raw. Passion. Power. It made her pulse quicken. Heat pooled low in her body, an ache she hadn’t felt in years.

Nandini’s hand rested on Dhruv’s forearm. “We’re here for you,” she murmured. Her eyes held warmth. “We are here to guide you. Through power. Through pleasure.”

Uma felt the tension. She slid closer, her hand joining Nandini’s. Together, they touched him. “We’ll stand by you,” Uma whispered. Her breath brushed his skin.

Their touch was electric. Dhruv felt his resolve crack. Desire roared inside him. He felt a strong desire to seize them. But he stopped himself. He was more than just a king who seized power. He had to be more.

He leaned down. His lips brushed Nandini’s forehead. Soft. Gentle. Her perfume wrapped around him—sweet, exotic. It pulled at something deep inside. Her skin? Warm. Smooth.

He turned to Uma. His palm cradled her face. The kiss he placed on her forehead was tender. Respectful. Her skin felt cooler. A faint hint of mint lingered—her favorite oils. Beneath his touch, her pulse quickened.

The moment was quiet. Intimate. Each gesture carried weight. The significance of each gesture extended beyond mere affection.

“But tell me,” he said, his voice low and curious. “What do you think of Haki? Can we trust him?”

Nandini and Uma exchanged a glance. They had seen Haki in action—loyal, sharp, and steady. He was the kind of man who didn’t need to shout to be heard.

Nandini spoke first. “Haki is a rare find, Your Highness. His heart is genuine. His mind? His mind was as sharp as a blade. He served your father-in-law with everything he had. He’ll do the same for you.”

Uma nodded. “Haki is a man of honor. He’ll stand by you, just as he stood by the old king.”

Their words settled Dhruv’s doubts. He had already noticed Haki’s quiet strength—the way he moved through the court, calm and sure. If these two trusted him, that was enough.

“Thank you,” Dhruv said, his voice heavy with gratitude. “Your advice means more than you know.”

He stepped back, breaking the moment. “But for now, I need to rest.” His eyes lingered on their faces. “Tomorrow, we begin.”

Nandini and Uma watched him leave. The door clicked shut. Their eyes stayed fixed on it, even as the sound faded. The room grew quiet. Too quiet. It wasn’t just silence—it felt alive, wrapping around them like a blanket.

The castle was in mourning. Everyone felt it. But for tonight, Nandini and Uma felt hope.

The young king had offered them something. They drifted to sleep. But their minds didn’t rest. A promise hung in the air. The promise was not merely one of loyalty. Not just in service. This was a commitment rooted in love. He was a king who aimed to do more than just rule. He would care. He would cherish.

Jayari worked hard, day and night. He wanted the Athirathan court to trust him. So, he whispered promises to the nobles and lords of Athiratha. He assured them of wealth and power that far surpassed their expectations. All they had to do was back Prince Salva.

His charm is irresistible. Step by step, he slipped into the castle’s web of secrets. He never pushed too far. Always careful. Always watching.

But his mind was on Kirita. Always Kirita.

The crown prince, Sayan, watched him. Jayari felt it. He knew Sayan was a threat. But Jayari wasn’t afraid. He’d faced worse. A prince? That was nothing.

Late at night, Jayari sat alone. The map of Kirita lay before him. His fingers traced its lines. His mind raced. Plans. Possibilities.

The door creaked open. A shadow slipped in. Jayari’s head snapped up. His heart pounded. He hadn’t expected anyone. Not now. Not here.

The light grew brighter. The man’s face came into view. Jayari’s breath caught. He knew who it was. A cold dread settled in his chest.

The man’s eyes glowed. His eyes were twin pools of darkness. They locked onto Jayari. No words. The door creaked open. A shadow slipped in. Jayari’s head snapped up. His heart pounded. He hadn’t expected anyone. Not now. Not here.

The light grew brighter. The man’s face came into view. Jayari’s breath caught. He knew who it was. A cold dread settled in his chest.

The man’s eyes glowed. His eyes were twin pools of darkness. They locked onto Jayari. No words. He simply stared at Jayari.

“Mara,” Jayari said. His voice was low. Careful.

The figure stepped forward. The light caught his face. His eyes burned like embers. “Jayari,” he whispered. The sound was smooth. Dangerous.

Jayari’s heart pounded. The messenger of the dark forces was Mara. This was the individual he had served. It had been years since they last met. Mara was the one who handed Jayari the stolen orb. The dark lord bestowed upon Mara the power to swap faces frequently. This was the face he wore when he visited Jayari.

“Mara,” Jayari repeated. His voice was barely audible. “What brings you here?”

Mara stepped closer. The light flickered, casting sharp shadows across his face. His eyes were cold. His smile? His smile was a twisted mask of fake joy.

“Our Lord is very disappointed in you, Jayari.”

Jayari’s stomach tightened. The anger of the evil god was not to be taken lightly.

“I had it under control,” Jayari said, his voice shaky. “I just need to get closer to the King of Athiratha. Then I’ll deliver what our lord wants. With your help, we can—”

Mara’s face turned to ice. “Our lord isn’t patient. He wants results. Not excuses. And he’s growing ... restless. He doesn’t forgive failure.”

The room felt heavier. Jayari swallowed hard. His mind raced. He had to act fast.

“I understand,” Jayari said, his voice firm now. “But my plans are already in motion. Once I earn the prince’s trust, I’ll deliver Kirita to our lord. And my loyalty? You’ll see it through. No doubt.”

Mara’s eyes locked onto Jayari. Sharp. Unforgiving. It felt like he could see every thought—every doubt swirling in Jayari’s mind.

“Your loyalty is already in question,” Mara said, his voice cold. “You have lost the orb. King Dhruv grows stronger every day. You failed your mission. There will be consequences.”

The words struck Jayari strongly. Consequences. He knew what that meant.

Mara paused. A sly smile crept across his face. “Unless...”

The word hung in the air. A lifeline. A trap. Jayari’s eyes narrowed. “Unless what?”

Mara’s smile widened. His teeth gleamed like knives. “Unless you bring me something of equal value. Something that proves your commitment. Something that makes your lord forget your failure.”

Jayari’s mind raced. What could he offer? What would satisfy a dark god?

Then it hit him.

“I can give you the true heir of Athiratha,” Jayari said. “Prince Sayan. His death would throw the kingdom into chaos. Prince Salva would take the throne. The kingdom would weaken from within. Isn’t that what your lord wants?”

Mara’s eyes widened. A flicker of curiosity sparked in them. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. “But the price for such a service would be high. And if you fail again...” His voice trailed off. The unspoken threat hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

Jayari didn’t flinch. His resolve hardened like steel. He wouldn’t let this shadowy creature intimidate him. “I will not fail,” he said firmly. “I have already set the stage. Trust me, Mara. I’ll deliver Athiratha.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “In exchange, I want your promise. Power. Protection. When the time comes, I’ll claim Kirita for myself. I’ll rule it in the name of the dark lord. His name will reign supreme over all the known lands.” His voice dropped lower. “But I need your help to make it happen.”

Mara studied him for a moment. His smile turned colder, sharper. “Very well,” he said finally. “You have a deal. But remember, Jayari. This is your final chance. Don’t disappoint me again.”

“Don’t forget, Jayari,” he warned, his voice low. “We’re watching you. Every move. Every breath. You belong to us now. Betrayal? We don’t allow it.”

The messenger stepped back. The messenger disappeared into the shadows.

Jayari stood alone. His thoughts raced.

The risk was huge. But the reward? Even bigger. With the dark god’s power, he could take Kirita. Athiratha too.

But first, Prince Sayan. The prince was getting suspicious. Too suspicious. Jayari could feel it. The noose was tightening. He had to act fast.

King Dhruv sat in the throne room. The crown felt heavy on his head. The room was grand, filled with tapestries of old battles.

Beside him sat Queen Pari. Her sorrow was thick in the air. What lay beneath it? A spark. Determination. Her fingers tapped lightly on the armrest. She knew the road ahead would be hard. But she believed in Dhruv.

A few steps away on the left sat the royal family. His mother, Kamala, sat in the center. Her face was calm, unreadable. But inside? She was proud. And hurt. Her son had come so far to wear that crown. She now had to watch him bear the weight of that crown. The pendant on her chest, Aatma, seemed to whisper to Dhruv. This is your duty now. This is your burden.

Behind Kamala sat Nandini and Uma. They wore mourning clothes, but their beauty shone through. Dhruv was the center of their attention. Hopeful. Expectant.

The nobles and lords of Kirita filled the grand throne room. They whispered. Their eyes flicked to the new king. The room shimmered with rich fabrics and polished armor. The air buzzed with quiet talk—doubt, curiosity, questions.

Dhruv scanned the crowd. His gaze stopped at Haki. The man stood by the door, tall and silent. Unmoving. Dhruv gave a small nod. It’s time.

The room fell quiet as Haki stepped forward. His boots echoed. Slow. Steady. His eyes locked on the throne. No fear. No hesitation.

Haki didn’t look like the others. He lacked any ostentatious armor. There are no elaborate robes. He wore simple, yet clean, clothes. Yet, he carried himself like a man who didn’t need gold to prove his worth.

“Haki,” Dhruv called. “You served my father-in-law well. You stood by my wife, Queen Pari. Now, I ask you to serve Kirita. I name you Royal High Minister.”

The court fell silent. Haki knelt before the throne, his eyes locked on Dhruv’s.

“Your Highness,” Haki began, his voice steady. “I’m no player of courtly games. I know loyalty. I know war. If you believe I can serve, I am yours to command.”

Dhruv said. “I need a man of integrity. Your loyalty? Unquestioned. Your valor? Unmatched. With you by my side, our kingdom will stand strong—in arms and in wisdom. Will you accept this responsibility?”

Haki nodded firmly. “I accept, Your Highness. I will serve with honor.”

The room erupted. Applause. Cheers. Some genuine. Some forced.

Nandini and Uma exchanged a glance. Their eyes glimmered not with fear, but with hope. The young king had taken their advice before finalizing his decision. Their influence remained constant.

Kamala felt pride as she watched Dhruv sway his power in court. In her inner voice, Aatma said, He is doing well. He is the one.

Pari smiled watching her husband control the court.

Kamala watched her son, Dhruv, from her seat. Pride swelled in her chest. He swayed the room with his words. His power. In her mind, the voice whispered. Aatma. He is doing well. He is the one.

Pari, beside her husband, smiled. The court was his. He controlled every word and gesture. Confident.

The applause roared louder. It filled the room, bouncing off stone walls. Hands clapped. Feet stomped. Armor clanked. But under the noise, whispers crept in. Concern. Intrigue. Not everyone agreed with Haki’s new role. But those who mattered? They’d seen his heart. They trusted him.

Dhruv turned to Haki. His face was hard, his voice low. “What of Jayari?”

Haki didn’t flinch. “Our spies are watching him, my king. He’s in Athiratha’s court. Whispering in King Sumiyan’s ear.”

The whispers turned to murmurs. Some wanted war. The air grew heavy—fear and anger mixing like smoke. Others begged for peace. For caution. For mercy.

Dhruv’s grip tightened on the throne. “What is he planning?” he muttered.