Chapter 43: chapter 43

The grand hall of Amaravati's palace had never felt so empty. Its marble pillars, once polished to gleaming perfection, now bore cracks from the rebellion’s siege. The golden chandeliers swayed faintly, their once-blinding brilliance dimmed by the thick haze of smoke that clung to the air.Ranajay stood at the dais, the weight of his new crown pressing harder on his brow than any battle ever had. The murmurs of the court were subdued, fearful even, as the gathered nobles and ministers kept their distance, their loyalty as fragile as the ruins of the city outside.At the far end of the hall, Sanmayi lingered in the shadows, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t belong here—she didn’t want to belong here—but she couldn’t tear herself away. Not when the man she had once sworn to destroy now stood before her as king.Ranajay’s voice broke the silence. “Let it be known,” he began, his tone measured but heavy with the strain of the past days, “that I take this throne not as a conquest, but as a penance. The blood spilled to bring us here demands that we rebuild what we have broken.”A murmur rippled through the court, some nodding in agreement, others narrowing their eyes in suspicion.Sanmayi’s lips tightened. Rebuild? The word felt hollow, as though spoken from the mouth of someone who had never known the full weight of loss.As the nobles dispersed, one by one bowing shallowly to their new king, Ranajay’s eyes found hers. The room might as well have emptied entirely. He descended the dais, his footsteps unsteady, though he kept his head high.“Sanmayi,” he said, his voice softer now.“I didn’t come to pay homage,” she replied sharply. “Don’t mistake my presence for loyalty.”He flinched, but recovered quickly. “I wouldn’t. I know better than that.”“Do you?” She stepped closer, her tone like ice. “You stand there in your father’s place, wearing his crown, and speak of rebuilding. But what do you know of what’s been lost?”His jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought he might turn away. But he held her gaze, his dark eyes reflecting both anger and something far more vulnerable.“I’ve lost too,” he said evenly. “Don’t think I haven’t.”“You’ve lost?” The word erupted from her like a whip. “You’ve taken. You’ve stolen. You’ve destroyed lives—my life.”“And you think I don’t carry that with me?” he shot back, his voice rising. “Do you think I don’t see their faces? That I don’t hear the screams every time I close my eyes?”The silence that followed was deafening. Sanmayi stared at him, her breath quick and shallow. She had expected him to deflect, to deny. She hadn’t expected this—this raw, unfiltered confession that mirrored her own pain too closely for comfort.She turned away, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. “You wear that crown as if it absolves you. But it doesn’t. It never will.”“I don’t seek absolution,” he said, his tone calmer now. “Only to make amends where I can.”She laughed bitterly, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. “You think you can fix this? That you can undo the past with words and decrees?”“No,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can try.”For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of their shared history hung between them like a specter, impossible to ignore.Finally, Sanmayi turned back to him, her eyes blazing. “If you truly want to make amends, start with the truth. Why did you do it? Why did you let your father destroy my kingdom?”Ranajay hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. When he spoke, his voice was laced with regret. “I didn’t let him. I fought him. But I was too weak, too young to stop him. And by the time I realized what he had done, it was too late. The blood was already on my hands, whether I wanted it there or not.”The words struck her like a blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. She had spent years imagining him as a villain, a monster who had reveled in her suffering. To hear him speak now, with such anguish, threatened to unravel everything she thought she knew.But she couldn’t let herself believe him—not yet.“That’s convenient,” she said coldly. “Blaming your father for your sins.”Ranajay’s head snapped up, his expression hardening. “I don’t blame him. I take responsibility for what I’ve done. That’s why I’m here, why I’m standing before you now. Not to ask for forgiveness, but to offer what little I can to make things right.”She studied him for a long moment, her heart warring with her mind. Could she trust him? Did she even want to?“Then prove it,” she said finally. “Prove that you mean what you say. Because words mean nothing to me, Ranajay. Not anymore.”He nodded, a flicker of determination sparking in his eyes. “I will. I swear it.”As he turned to leave, Sanmayi watched him go, her emotions a tempest she couldn’t begin to untangle. She had come here to see a broken man, a king brought low by his own hubris. Instead, she had found someone who bore a burden as heavy as her own.The crown might rest on his head, but its weight pressed on them both. And in the ashes of what they had lost, the path forward remained as uncertain as ever.