Chapter 10: chapter 10

S A N M A Y I The palace was alive with the pulse of music and laughter, the clinking of goblets, and the rustle of silken garments brushing against polished marble. Amaravati was in the midst of one of its grandest celebrations—a festival to mark a hard-won victory, where the faces of conquerors were celebrated, and those they conquered were but trophies, paraded for amusement.I had been brought to this scene, like an animal to a market, stripped of my pride and dignity, paraded before the eyes of the very men who had destroyed my home. My heart had grown accustomed to this sort of humiliation, but even now, as I was draped in the garments of defeat, a fiery anger simmered beneath the surface.I was made to sit at the head of a long, ornate table, a place of honor among the conquerors, though my true position was that of a prisoner, a living symbol of the fallen kingdom of Kosala. The nobles around me discussed matters of power, politics, and wealth, their words little more than a chorus of arrogance to my ears. I, who had once commanded respect as the daughter of a king, now played the role of the vanquished, a quiet presence in their midst.The wine flowed freely, the revelry growing louder with each passing hour. Ranajay, the man whose name carried both the weight of a king and the stain of my family’s blood, was no different than the others in his demeanor—his expression impassive, his movements calculated. Yet, I could feel the eyes of his court upon me, watching my every reaction, as if to see how long I would endure before breaking.And then, as if to add insult to injury, one of the more brash nobles—a man with a cruel smile and a gaze that flickered with malice—spoke up, his voice carrying across the room.“Ah, the princess of Kosala graces us with her presence,” he sneered, his words dripping with disdain. “How quaint. I wonder, do you miss your little kingdom, or have you found yourself growing accustomed to the pleasures of Amaravati?”A ripple of laughter followed his words, the others joining in with knowing glances and sly grins. I could feel the weight of their glares, their mockery. It was all too familiar—too easy.But I refused to let them see me falter. I held my head high, my gaze steady, my lips pressed into a thin line. “I miss nothing about a kingdom that has fallen,” I said, my voice steady, though every word felt like it was tearing at my insides. “But I will not forget the price of your victory.”There was a moment of silence. A stillness settled over the room as if they were waiting for the fire to catch. But before anyone could respond, Ranajay stood from his place at the far end of the table, his posture rigid, his eyes cold. He looked at me, and then, with a glance that could have frozen a man in his tracks, he turned to the noble who had spoken.“Enough, Varun,” he said, his voice like ice, cutting through the laughter. “The princess of Kosala has earned her place here, just as much as you have earned the privilege of sitting at my table. I will not tolerate such disrespect.”There was an audible shift in the air. Varun’s face flushed with surprise and anger, but he did not argue. Ranajay’s words hung in the air like a decree, and in the silence that followed, I could feel the weight of his protection upon me. It was an unexpected gesture, one that defied the natural order of things. Here, in this room, I was his prisoner—his enemy—but he had defended me, not with pity or kindness, but with authority.For a moment, I simply stared at him, unable to comprehend the gesture. He had done what none of the others would have dared: he had set boundaries, not only for his men but for me. And though I had despised him with every fiber of my being for so long, I couldn’t ignore the fact that there was something about him—something that defied the lines I had drawn so carefully around him.But no matter how hard I tried to push it away, that same something began to stir within me, rising from the depths of my anger, my fear, and my pride.Varun muttered something under his breath before slinking back into his seat, clearly defeated. The tension in the room lingered for a moment longer before the conversation shifted back to other matters. I turned my attention away from Ranajay, but it was impossible to ignore the electricity between us, the unspoken weight of what had just transpired.I had been humiliated, but now, there was a subtle shift. His defense of me, however brief, had left me unsettled. I wasn’t sure whether I should feel grateful or furious. Perhaps both. Perhaps that was what he wanted.As the night wore on, the celebration grew wilder. Music filled the air, a rhythmic beat that pulsed through my veins. The room swirled with color and movement, the flickering lights casting shadows across faces, making the whole scene seem like a dream—a strange, half-remembered dream.Ranajay, however, was not as engrossed in the festivities as the others. I caught him watching me from across the room, his gaze heavy, almost burning. It was the same look he had given me during our earlier encounters—intense, searching, as though trying to peel away the layers of myself that I kept so carefully hidden.I met his gaze, holding it for a moment longer than was proper, and for a brief, unsettling second, I wondered if he could see through my facade, if he could tell that the fire within me was not yet extinguished.Then, the music changed, the tempo quickening, and the courtiers began to dance. A noblewoman, elegant and poised, stood and extended her hand toward me with a smile. She was, like the rest, curious, amused by the idea of a fallen princess forced to mingle with her conquerors. With a glance at Ranajay, who stood as if rooted to the spot, I took the noblewoman’s hand and allowed her to lead me into the fray.The dance was a blur of movements and gestures, a performance more than a celebration. My body moved without thought, as if the rhythm of the music had taken over, and I became part of the spectacle. But even in the midst of it, I could feel Ranajay’s eyes upon me, and his presence seemed to fill the space between us like a crackling fire.The dance spun on, faster, more intense, and with each turn, I felt that pull between us, stronger, more undeniable. I had danced with him once before, but this was different. This time, I was no longer just a prisoner, no longer just a symbol of defeat. In this dance, I was something else—something he could not control, something that made him lose his focus.He approached me, stepping through the throng of dancers as though he were drawn by some unseen force. His eyes locked with mine, and the music seemed to quiet around us. For a moment, everything else disappeared. The celebration, the court, the city—all of it vanished, leaving only the two of us in a suspended, fragile moment.Without a word, he extended his hand.I took it.And as we danced together, the fire between us burned hotter than ever. Neither of us spoke, yet everything that had gone unsaid in our years of conflict hung in the air, thick and undeniable. There, in the midst of the revelry, I could no longer deny the pull between us—the strange, dangerous chemistry that neither of us could control.But I was not a fool. I knew better than to trust it, to believe in it. And yet, as our hands touched and our bodies swayed, I felt something in me shift, something I couldn’t explain.This dance, I knew, was only the beginning.