Chapter 5: Shadows of the throne

Chapter 5: Shadows of the throne

The melodic strains of the sitar drifted down from the balcony, filling the reception hall of Prince fort mainly made for his residing away from the main palace was an enchanting aura. Thin muslin curtains, intricately embroidered with silver thread, billowed like ethereal clouds on arches, as the gentle breeze carried the sweet fragrance of jasmine and rose petals from the outer courtyard.

Within the hall, wisps of bluish-grey smoke from incense censers danced upward, weaving a sensual tapestry of musk, aloewood, and sandalwood. The air vibrated with the rich aroma, transporting all who breathed it into a realm of tranquility.

Mahendra, Crown Prince of Arya Nagar, lounged on the plush divan, his head resting against a rich purple velvet bolster adorned with glittering gemstones. A goblet, crafted from delicate crystal, teetered precariously on his chest, its contents glinting like liquid gold in the soft light.

As the slave girls, draped in diaphanous muslin, swayed and undulated to the music, their anklets tinkled like tiny bells, casting a spell of mesmerization. The low, insistent drumbeat of the tabla and the melodious, lilting flute joined the sitar, crafting a symphony that resonated deep within the soul.

Mahendra's gaze wandered, entranced by the hypnotic rhythm and the graceful movements of the dancers. Their eyes sparkled like polished onyx, their skin glowing with a soft, golden light, as if infused with the warmth of the setting sun.

The music swelled, transporting Mahendra to a realm of serenity, where the cares of the kingdom faded into the background, and all that remained was the haunting beauty of the moment.

Mahendra's gaze descended, lingering on the exquisite faces surrounding him. His favorite concubine, Kamini, sat tantalizingly close, her slender figure draped in a resplendent lengha and choli. Intricate embroidery shimmered like moonlight on the silk, accentuating her curves. Expensive jewels—rubies, emeralds, and diamonds—adorned her neck, wrists, and ankles, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room.

Kamini's full lips curled into a clever smile, her eyes sparkling with knowing amusement. Amidst the myriad slave girls at Mahendra's disposal, she held a singular place in his heart. Her deft fingers refilled his jade cup with a fragrant, golden liquor, the scent of saffron and cardamom wafting up.

Mahendra's mischievous grin spread as he raised the glass to his lips, drinking greedily. The liquor's warmth coursed through his veins, igniting a fire within. His gaze locked onto Kamini's, lusty eyes burning with desire.

As he leaned in, his face hovered near her delicate neckline, inhaling the heady scent of jasmine and rosewater infused in her skin. Kamini's pulse quickened, her breath catching in anticipation.

A languid finger extended from Mahendra's hand, tracing the contours of Kamini's face. She mirrored his mischief, her own fingers weaving into his dark, silken hair. Soft strokes sent shivers down Mahendra's spine, his eyes drifting shut in rapture.

The sitar's melodic strains swelled, the tabla's rhythmic beats pulsating through the air. The incense censers' wispy smoke danced, entwining the couple in a sensual aura.

In the midst of their romantic reverie, Mahendra's trustworthy aide, Keshav, arrived with a deferential bow. "Hail to your Highness!" The soft rustle of his silk attire accompanied his gesture.

Mahendra's gaze lingered on Kamini's face, his passion still simmering. He raised his left hand, fingers extended in a languid gesture, granting permission to proceed.

"Rajkumar, Maharaj has sent word," Keshav continued, his voice measured, "requesting your presence at Rajkumari Sanyogita's birthday celebration. He desires the entire family to be present."

Mahendra's expression darkened, a petulant frown creasing his brow. His eyes clouded, staring moodily into the distance as if the sandstone pillars held answers. His jade goblet tapped rhythmically on the marble floor, echoing the silenced music.

Without warning, Mahendra's temper flared. He hurled the goblet against a nearby sandstone pillar. The delicate vessel shattered, splintering into tiny, green fragments stained with wine's crimson kiss. The sound echoed through the hall like a rejected plea.

The musicians' fingers stilled, their instruments falling silent. The princesses froze, slender figures suspended in mid-movement. Kamini's eyes widened, her face paling.

Keshav, though startled, maintained his composure, his expression a mask of serenity. "Shall I inform the Maharaj of your attendance, Rajkumar?" His voice remained steady, a gentle breeze on a turbulent sea.

The air hung heavy with tension, the scent of sandalwood and incense now laced with the acrid tang of shattered glass.

Kamini's delicate hand reached out, her fingers brushing against Mahendra's arm as she asked, "What troubles my Lord?" Her voice trembled, a gentle breeze rustling through leaves.

Mahendra shrugged off her touch, his movement abrupt. He stumbled to his feet, unsteadiness evident in his steps. The marble floor beneath him seemed to spin.

"Why doesn't the old man die?" Mahendra's thunderous roar echoed through the hall, shaking the sandstone pillars. "Every day, he coddles that...that...Sanyogita, calling her my elder sister!" His words dripped venom, each syllable piercing the air.

Kamini's eyes widened, her face pale as alabaster. The room fell silent, the only sound of the soft rustling of silk as the musicians and slave girls exchanged nervous glances.

Kamini's slender fingers signaled discreetly, and the assembly dispersed, their footsteps quiet as they vanished into the shadows. The once-vibrant hall now felt hollow, the only remaining sound the heavy breathing of the prince.

Kamini approached Mahendra, her footsteps measured, her voice a soothing melody. "My Lord, the throne belongs to you, and you alone." Her words dripped honey, calming the storm within him.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the contours of his face, her touch warm as sunlight. "You're merely fifteen, and Maharaj loves you dearly. He's giving you time to prepare, to grow into the great king you're destined to be."

Mahendra's gaze locked onto Kamini's, his eyes burning with frustration, yet seeking reassurance. The scent of sandalwood and incense lingered, now mingled with the faint tang of anger.

Kamini's words wrapped around him, a gentle embrace. "I know your worth, my Lord. You will be the greatest king Arya Nagar has ever known."

Mahendra's face contorted, tears welling up in his eyes like summer monsoon rains. "When will I be the Emperor?" His voice cracked, a vulnerable plea.

Kamini's expression softened, her eyes brimming with empathy. "Soon, my lord." Her voice whispered calm, a gentle breeze on a tumultuous night. She gestured to Keshav, her hand weaving an intricate pattern in the air, conveying Mahendra's attendance at the birthday celebration.

Mahendra's tension eased, his shoulders relaxing as Kamini's soothing voice calmed the tempest within.

Keshav nodded, his eyes understanding, and departed silently.

With tender guidance, Kamini led Mahendra into the bedchamber, the soft glow of candles and lanterns enveloping them. The air was heavy with the sweet scent of jasmine and rose petals.

As Mahendra collapsed onto the plush bed, Kamini's slender fingers began to weave gentle patterns through his dark, tousled hair. Her touch soothed, calming the tempest within.

Suddenly, Mahendra's hands sprang to life, encircling Kamini's delicate, henna-stained wrist. His fingers intertwined, a passionate vice.

With swift, urgent movements, Mahendra pinned Kamini to the bed, his body pressing against hers. The soft cushions enveloped them, a silken cocoon.

Kamini's breath caught, surprise etched on her face. Her eyes locked onto Mahendra's, searching for answers.

As Mahendra's face drew near, Kamini sensed the faint tang of liquor on his breath. The lamps flickered out, enveloping the room in a soft, velvety darkness.

In the shadows, Kamini's gentle touch soothed Mahendra's frayed emotions. His lips brushed against her skin, tracing the curves of her face. The warmth of their bodies intertwined, a comforting refuge.

Mahendra's senses came alive, immersed in the sweet scent of Kamini's perfume and the softness of her skin. His fingers traced the contours of her face, memorizing every detail.

As they surrendered to the moment, time stood still. The room pulsed with tension, the only sound of the soft rustling of silk and the heavy beating of their entwined hearts.

Kamini's touch ignited a tender passion within Mahendra, calming the turmoil that had ravaged him. In her loving embrace, he found solace, his heart slowly healing.

The darkness enveloped them, a sanctuary of intimacy and comfort.

************

After the three princesses galloped away for their horse riding race, Queen Prabhavati approached King Rudramadev Ariya, her elegant footsteps echoing through the palace gardens. The warm sunlight danced across her face, highlighting her determined expression.

"Your Majesty," she began, her voice firm yet measured, "for how long will you conceal the truth from Princess Sanyogita? One day, you must face reality." Her words hung in the air like the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers.

Maharani Prabhavati's gaze searched for Rudramadev's, seeking understanding. Her jewels glinted in the sunlight, reflecting the rippling water of the nearby stream.

Rudramadev stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his hips, his eyes fixed on the gentle current. The soft gurgle of the stream filled the silence between them.

The secluded garden, with its vibrant flowers and towering trees, ensured their privacy. No prying ears or watchful eyes intruded upon their intimate conversation.

"Maharaj," Prabhavati continued, her tone laced with empathy, "though we've provided for Rajkumari Sanyogita's upbringing, she deserves to know her biological parents. The truth, no matter how painful, is her birthright."

Rudramadev's silence was palpable, a weighty stillness that contrasted with the vibrant garden surroundings.

Rudramadev pivoted, his eyes locking onto Prabhavati's, their intensity palpable. His hands remained clasped behind his hips, a gesture of contained emotion. The warm sunlight danced across his face, highlighting the deep lines of concern etched on his forehead.

"Maharani Prabhavati, you, too, have grown fond of Rajkumari Sanyogita," he said, his voice low and measured. "We've spared no expense in her upbringing, nurturing her skills in swordsmanship, archery, and the ancient wisdom of the Vedas, Puranas, and Arthashastra."

Prabhavati's expression softened, her eyes filling with empathy. The gentle breeze rustled her hair, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers.

"I acknowledge, Maharaj," she replied, her voice gentle as a summer breeze, "in Madhavgarh, women, including royal princesses and queens, are often confined, treated as delicate objects. But I implore you, consider Rajkumari's right to meet her father, her family, at least once."

Rudramadev's gaze narrowed, his brow furrowed. "And you think revealing the truth to Princess Sanyogita will silence her questions? Why did we hide this from her?" His words hung in the air like the faint hum of a veena string.

Prabhavati's slender fingers intertwined, a gesture of resolve. "Then tell her the truth, Maharaj. The weight of secrecy burdens us all."

The garden's tranquility contrasted with the turmoil brewing within the royal couple. The soft chirping of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the warm sunlight seemed to fade into the background as their conversation reached its crescendo.

Rudramadev's voice trembled with contained fury, his eyes blazing like embers. "No, Maharani, I cannot. Maharaj Sussanand's negligence ripped my beloved sister from my life. I won't risk losing another." His words hung in the air, heavy as the scent of smoke from a dying fire.

Prabhavati's gentle touch softened Rudramadev's tension. She guided him to the divan, its plush cushions enveloping him like a soothing balm. The intricate patterns on the fabric seemed to shimmer in the fading light.

"Maharaj, consider the other side," Prabhavati coaxed, her voice a melodic counterpoint to Rudramadev's turmoil. "Perhaps Maharaj Sussanand's heart has changed. He misses his daughter, the child of his favorite wife." Her words wove a tapestry of hope.

Rudramadev's gaze fell, his shoulders sagging under the weight of memories. Prabhavati's fingers wrapped around his arm, warm as sunlight.

"Think of the letters, the gifts sent on Rajkumari's birthdays," Prabhavati continued, her voice painting a picture of longing. "Maharaj Sussanandan yearns for a glimpse of his daughter, to bridge the chasm between them."

The divan creaked softly as Rudramadev shifted, his expression a battle between doubt and longing. The garden's twilight hues seeped into the room, casting shadows that danced like whispers.

Maharani Prabhavati's heart swelled with emotion as Rudramadev's words painted a poignant picture. His voice, laced with pain and vulnerability, resonated through the room.

"Maharani, you have a golden heart, always seeking the good in others," Rudramadev said, his eyes locked onto hers, shining with admiration.

Prabhavati's gaze held his, unwavering, her breath suspended. Goosebumps danced across her spine, a shiver tracing her skin.

"If only Maharaj Sussanandan had protected my sister," Rudramadev's voice cracked, "perhaps she'd still be alive." The morning lights illuminating his face, accentuating the deep lines of sorrow.

Prabhavati's mind reeled, memories flashing like lightning. Rajpurohit's prophetic words echoed: "Sanyogita, born to alter Mayamibhumi's destiny...at sixteen, her marriage will shape history's course...danger lurks, threatening destruction."

The air thickened, heavy with foreboding. Prabhavati's breath caught, her pulse racing. Her eyes, locked onto Rudramadev's, reflected her turmoil.

"Sanyogita is no ordinary princess, Maharani," Rudramadev emphasized, his voice low, urgent. "Her fate hangs in the balance."

Goosebumps danced across Prabhavati's spine as Rudramadev's words painted a dire picture. Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking, her breath suspended like a held note in a haunting melody.

The gentle rustle of leaves and chirping of birds filled the air, a soothing counterpoint to the tension between them. The sweet fragrance of blooming jasmine wafted through the garden, entwining with the scent of sandalwood incense.

After a long silence, Prabhavati's voice emerged, low and measured. "I know, I remember everything you mean, Maharaj." Her words unfurled like a gentle breeze, calming the tension.

With a slow, soothing tone, she continued, "Regarding Sanyogita's marriage, we hold the reins. I know Rajput's daughters are pawns in politics, but as her mother, I have the right to determine her future. Maharaj Sussanandan cannot dictate our child's destiny."

Rudramadev's eyes sparkled with pride, his gaze drinking in Prabhavati's determined expression. Her jewels glinted, reflecting the sunlight filtering through the trees.

"Tonight, we will reveal part of the truth to Rajkumari Sanyogita," Prabhavati declared, her words etched with conviction. "The decision will be hers. But I have faith in our child. She is mature enough to understand."

The garden's tranquillity enveloped them, a serene backdrop for their weighty conversation. The sun began its descent, casting a warm orange glow across the garden.

**************

In the evening, the celebration transformed into a dazzling spectacle. Torches and lanterns cast a golden glow, casting long shadows across the palace grounds. Princess Priyamvada, persuaded by Sanyogita's enthusiasm and the royal couple's warm invitation, joined the festivities.

Rudramadev's face radiated joy as he enveloped his son, Prince Mahendra, in a warm embrace. The fragrance of sandalwood and rose petals wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of celebratory sweets.

His protective instincts surged, his love for Mahendra palpable. He lavished permission and affection upon his son, gratitude swelling in his heart.

Sixteen years ago, Sanyogita's arrival had transformed their kingdom. The once-barren lands now flourished, lush green fields stretching towards the horizon. Prosperity and glory had blossomed, reflected in the palace's renovated grandeur.

As Rudramadev gazed at Mahendra, his eyes shone with pride. His voice, infused with affection, resonated through the palace grounds. "Mahendra, my precious son!" The sound echoed off the intricately carved stone walls.

Queen Prabhavati's gentle smile illuminated her face, her eyes sparkling like diamonds in the torchlight. Her elegant saree shimmered, its silk rustling softly as she moved.

The kingdom's renewal was inextricably linked to Sanyogita's presence. After years of childlessness, Prabhavati had conceived Mahendra, a blessing welcomed with unbridled joy.

The night air vibrated with music and laughter, the celebration a testament to their kingdom's harmony. Mahendra's laughter echoed, mingling with the sweet fragrance of incense and the soft rustle of silk.