Chapter 7: chapter 7

S A N M A Y I The journey to Amaravati was a blur of dust and discomfort, a relentless parade of harsh sunlight, aching limbs, and the constant thrum of the soldiers’ footsteps. They marched in unison, the sound of their boots on the parched earth almost rhythmic. I was bound tightly, my wrists raw from the coarse ropes, but I couldn’t summon the energy to struggle. It seemed pointless. There was no escaping now, no running away. I had been caught, and I would face whatever fate awaited me at the end of this journey.Ranajay rode ahead of the convoy, his presence like a dark cloud hovering above us all. Even in the distance, his figure stood out, tall and unyielding, casting a long shadow over the soldiers who moved at his command. I had always known he was a man of power, but seeing him now, commanding his men with nothing more than a raised hand or a quiet word, made it clear just how much they respected him.There was a tension in the air, a kind of crackling energy that I couldn’t quite place. The soldiers moved with purpose, their eyes scanning the horizon, ever watchful for threats. And yet, there was a certain ease in the way they followed him, a loyalty that seemed to go beyond mere duty. They trusted him.And I… I couldn’t fathom it. How could they trust him? After everything he had done? After the destruction of Kosala? After the bloodshed, the burning villages, the screams of the innocent? How could they stand by him and follow his every command as if he were some kind of hero?As the day wore on, I found myself studying the soldiers more closely. There was no fear in their eyes. They were not the kind of men who feared their leader. They respected him, yes—but there was more. There was a kind of affection there, a bond that could not be easily explained. They followed him not just because they had to, but because they believed in him.It made me sick.But as the hours passed and the sun sank lower in the sky, I began to see something else. There was a weariness in their movements, a tiredness that spoke of long months of campaigning, of battles fought and lost, of lives destroyed. These men were not the mindless automatons I had once imagined them to be. They were human, just like me—flawed, haunted by their pasts, uncertain of their futures.And then there was Ranajay.I had expected him to remain aloof, to distance himself from the men he commanded, to show no sign of weakness. But as we camped for the night, I saw something that made me reconsider everything I had believed about him. He dismounted from his horse, not with the grandeur of a prince, but with the same tiredness that marked his soldiers. His face, though still as cold and unreadable as ever, was drawn, his eyes shadowed by something I couldn’t quite place. He walked among his men, speaking to them not as a ruler, but as one who had borne the same burden of war.I watched him, hidden in the shadows of the campfire, my thoughts a whirlpool of confusion. There was no denying the strength in him, the steel in his spine that had crushed my kingdom and forced me into submission. But now, in the dim light of the campfire, I saw something else—something that unsettled me.It was guilt.I couldn’t be sure, not entirely. It could have been a trick of the firelight, but I thought I saw a flicker of remorse in his eyes as he spoke to his men, as if he, too, was haunted by the things he had done. The thought made my stomach churn.He was no hero. I knew that much. But could he truly be the monster I had always imagined? Was it possible that he, too, carried the weight of his actions like a chain around his neck?My thoughts were interrupted by the harsh command of a soldier nearby. “Get up,” he growled, pulling me from my place by the fire. “The prince wants to speak to you.”I was yanked to my feet, my body protesting the sudden movement, and before I could say a word, I was shoved toward the center of the camp where Ranajay stood, his eyes fixed on me with the intensity of a man who had made up his mind about something."Come," he said curtly, as if my resistance meant nothing. “We need to talk.”I followed him, my feet dragging in the dirt, the ropes cutting into my wrists with each step. I wanted to speak—to curse him, to demand to know why he was doing this, why he had spared me—but the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to show him the weakness of my fear, not now.When we were out of earshot of the men, Ranajay stopped and turned to face me. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable, something that made my heart skip a beat. For the first time since I had been captured, I saw the weight of his eyes, the fatigue that seemed to cling to him like a shroud."You hate me," he said flatly. It wasn’t a question.I met his gaze, my eyes narrowed. "You killed my family," I said, my voice tight with suppressed anger. "You destroyed my kingdom. You think I could ever forgive you for that?"Ranajay’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He merely stared at me, his gaze unwavering.“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” he said after a long moment. “And I don’t ask for it.” His voice was low, almost… regretful? No, I must have been imagining things. He was a conqueror, a murderer—a man who had taken everything from me. His words meant nothing."You don’t understand," he continued, his voice growing softer, almost… burdened. "I never wanted this. I never wanted to destroy Kosala, to kill your family."I scoffed. "And yet you did.""I had no choice," he said, his voice sharp now, but there was a note of frustration there. "Do you think I wanted to do this? To burn everything I once believed in?"I stared at him, confused. There was something in his eyes—something I had not expected to see in the eyes of the man who had brought ruin to my world."You don’t know what it’s like," he continued, his voice thick with emotion now, "to be torn between what you believe is right and what you are forced to do."I said nothing, too stunned by his words to respond. Ranajay, the prince who had destroyed everything I held dear, was… conflicted? Torn?I couldn’t process it. It was too much to take in, too much to accept.For a long moment, we stood there, locked in silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the distance. My thoughts were a tangled mess. Could it be true? Could he have truly been torn, not just between duty and desire, but between right and wrong?I didn’t want to feel sorry for him. I didn’t want to acknowledge that perhaps, somewhere beneath the cold exterior, there was a man who wasn’t entirely a monster.But the more I looked at him, the more I saw the weight of his actions, the remorse that flickered beneath his defiant exterior. And for a fleeting moment, I wondered if—just perhaps—he wasn’t the monster I had made him out to be.But that was a thought I couldn’t afford to entertain. Not now. Not when I had lost everything.I turned away from him, my decision made. “I’ll never forgive you,” I said, my voice cold. “No matter what you say, no matter what you do. You’re a murderer. And that’s all you’ll ever be in my eyes.”Ranajay said nothing, his gaze following me as I walked away, his face unreadable. But as I glanced back, I caught the briefest flicker of something in his eyes. A shadow of regret?I couldn’t say for certain.But I knew one thing for sure—this was far from over.