Chapter 17: chapter 15 - The Fire She Ignites

I wasn’t used to being ignored.

Yet, here she was—walking beside me through the grand halls of Malvastra’s palace, acting as if I wasn’t standing right next to her.

Since this morning, Aranya had perfected the art of dismissing my presence.

I could see it in the way she tilted her chin ever so slightly when I spoke. The way she hummed in response instead of giving me a real answer. The way her lips curled just a little when I knew she was intentionally doing it to get under my skin.

And it was working.

I clenched my jaw, trying to focus on the royal court meeting ahead, but my patience was wearing thin.

I had been dealing with the rebellion crisis since we arrived, gathering information, speaking with my contacts, and ensuring we weren’t stepping into a trap.

The Malvastran royal advisors had requested my counsel in solving the case—an internal matter that they couldn’t seem to control.

The only problem?

Aranya had decided she was taking charge.

“Did you even read the reports?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

She smiled sweetly. “Of course, Maharaja.”

I narrowed my eyes. She was mocking me.

We turned a corner, entering the main court chamber. Nobles and ministers stood waiting, murmuring among themselves. The Malvastran royal council sat on their respective seats, nodding politely as we arrived.

“Welcome, Maharaja Veeraditya,” one of the older advisors greeted. “We appreciate your presence in this matter.”

I gave a curt nod. “What new information have you gathered?”

Another noble spoke, his voice careful. “We believe the rebellion is being led by an unknown faction within our own court.”

I exhaled slowly. Typical.

“So,” Aranya cut in, stepping beside me, “it’s an inside job.”

The men paused.

They hadn’t expected her to speak.

I smirked.

She lifted an eyebrow, waiting. “You were saying?”

The noble cleared his throat. “Yes, my lady. We suspect a traitor among our ranks, but we do not have enough evidence to act.”

“Then,” she said easily, “we find the evidence.”

I watched her carefully. She was enjoying this.

One of the younger nobles spoke hesitantly. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

Aranya smiled.

And that’s when I knew—she already had a plan.

The moment the meeting ended, I caught her wrist, pulling her aside.

“You don’t trust me to handle this?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

She blinked, innocently. “I trust you.”

I leaned in slightly. “Then why are you stepping into my work?”

She smirked. Smirked.

“Oh, forgive me, Maharaja.” She put extra emphasis on the word. “I thought we were working together.”

I exhaled sharply, stepping even closer. “You’re testing my patience.”

Her dark eyes glimmered. “I like testing you.”

I clenched my jaw. Of course, she did.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Aranya,” I murmured.

She tilted her head. “Is it a game if I win?”

My hands twitched. I wanted to grab her, to wipe that smugness off her face in the most sinful way possible.

But she simply gave me a teasing wink before walking away, her hips swaying ever so slightly.

Damn her.

By evening, we had gathered enough information to piece together a lead.

One of the royal scribes had disappeared two days before the rebellion attack. His records vanished, his chambers left untouched.

Aranya, of course, was the first to notice the missing scrolls.

“If someone wanted to erase his existence, they would have burned these documents,” she said, flipping through the records. “But these weren’t destroyed. They were taken.”

She looked up at me, her eyes sharp. “Someone needed them.”

I nodded. “Which means the scribe was either helping them…”

“Or he was killed for what he knew,” she finished.

Our gazes locked.

For the first time today, she wasn’t playing.

I saw the determination in her eyes—the same fire she had when she first challenged me.

And that fire?

It drove me insane.

That night, as we walked through the palace halls, I finally gave in.

I stopped, catching her wrist and pulling her close.

She gasped, eyes widening. “What are you—”

I backed her into the nearest pillar, my hands bracing on either side of her.

She swallowed.

“Rudraksha,” she said slowly.

I stared down at her. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

She blinked. “I have not.”

I leaned in, my breath ghosting against her cheek. “Liar.”

Her pulse quickened.

I felt it.

She exhaled, tilting her head slightly. “So what if I was?”

I smirked. “I don’t like it.”

She smirked back. “What are you gonna do about it, Maharaja?”

I tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at me.

“Remind you,” I murmured, “who you belong to.”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath uneven.

I didn’t close the distance.

I didn’t have to.

She was already trapped in the moment, her body betraying her despite her defiance.

And damn, I wanted to kiss her.

But I wouldn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, I leaned closer, brushing my lips near her ear.

“You can play your little games,” I murmured. “Ignore me all you want.”

She shivered.

“But in the end, you’ll always come back to me.”

With that, I pulled away, smirking as she stood there, speechless.

For the first time tonight, I won.

The night was silent, but inside my mind, there was chaos.

Aranya and I had decided to stay in the palace for the time being, given the ongoing rebellion and the new lead we had discovered. The Malvastran court had provided us with separate chambers, but I didn’t trust this place enough to let her out of my sight.

I sat in the dimly lit war room, staring at the map of Malvastra spread before me.

The missing scribe. The stolen documents. The rebellion.

Something was missing.

A connection that I couldn’t see.

The door creaked open, and I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Prithish.

He stepped inside, his gait slow, deliberate. I could feel his gaze on me, measuring, calculating.

“You always preferred solitude, Rudraksha,” he mused, stopping a few feet away. “Some things never change.”

I finally looked up. “And some things do.”

His expression was unreadable. “Like what?”

I exhaled, setting the dagger in my hand onto the table. “Like the fact that you know more than you’re telling me.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt, hesitation, regret?

Then it was gone.

“You’re still as direct as ever.” He folded his arms. “And you still think you can demand answers from me.”

I leaned back slightly, my fingers drumming against the wooden table. “I don’t think, Prithish. I know.”

His lips curled into something between amusement and frustration. “And yet, here you are. Without answers.”

I clenched my jaw. “Because you refuse to give them.”

He sighed, stepping closer. “Not because I refuse. Because you’re not ready to hear them.”

I stilled.

A slow rage simmered beneath my skin.

I hated riddles. Hated when people thought they knew what was best for me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.

Prithish exhaled through his nose. “It means that there are things—things about yourself, your past, the loop—that you don’t remember.”

A sharp silence followed.

The air grew thick, suffocating.

“…What?” My voice was quiet, but it carried enough weight to make him flinch slightly.

“You lost memories, Rudraksha.” His gaze met mine, unwavering. “Not just when the loop started, but before that.”

My blood ran cold.

I had suspected it. The fragments that didn’t add up. The moments that felt just out of reach.

But to hear him say it so directly—

I stood slowly, my movements controlled. “And how, exactly, do you know this?”

Prithish remained still. “Because I was there.”

I moved in a flash.

Grabbing his collar, I slammed him against the stone wall.

The torches flickered violently from the force, casting erratic shadows across the room.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” I growled, my fingers tightening. “What did I forget?”

Prithish didn’t struggle. He merely looked at me.

His expression held no fear—only pity.

“That you were the reason for the loop,” he said softly.

The words hit me like a blade to the chest.

I froze.

The reason for the loop?

No.

That wasn’t possible.

I had suffered because of the loop. I had watched my kingdom be erased from history, my people trapped in a time cage, living the same cursed day for years .

I had been a victim.

Hadn’t I?

“You’re lying,” I whispered, my grip tightening.

Prithish exhaled. “I wish I was.”

The room tilted. My pulse pounded in my ears, my own breath coming in sharp, uneven beats.

No.

No.

There was more. There had to be more.

I pushed him harder against the wall. “Tell me what I did.”

Prithish met my gaze, and for the first time, I saw hesitation.

He knew.

But he wasn’t telling me.

“Not yet,” he murmured.

Something inside me snapped.

I pulled my dagger from my belt and pressed the tip against his throat.

His body remained still, but I saw the flicker of warning in his eyes.

“Not yet?” I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. “Wrong answer.”

He exhaled slowly. “Killing me won’t give you your memories back.”

I pressed the blade deeper, enough to draw a single drop of blood.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I said quietly. “I’m going to make you wish I did.”

A sharp gasp cut through the tension.

I stilled.

The sound had come from behind me.

Slowly, I turned my head.

And there she was.

Aranya.

Standing at the door, her eyes wide with shock.

The blood in my veins froze.

She had heard everything.

The room was deathly silent.

I watched as Aranya’s eyes darted between me and Prithish, the weight of the revelation crashing into her.

I could see the questions forming in her mind. The realization.

That I wasn’t just cursed.

I was the reason for the curse.

The dagger felt heavy in my grip.

I stepped back slowly, releasing Prithish. He straightened his tunic, wiping the small drop of blood from his throat, but he didn’t say anything.

Aranya swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You… caused the loop?”

I said nothing.

I couldn’t.

I didn’t have an answer—because I didn’t even know what I had done.

Her hands trembled slightly. “Rudraksha, say something.”

I clenched my fists.

What was I supposed to say?

That I had no memories of what happened? That I didn’t know if I was a monster or a victim?

That the man she had trusted, the man she had grown closer to, might be the very reason everything had fallen apart?

I turned away. “I need to think.”

She stepped forward. “Rudraksha—”

“I said I need to think.” My voice was cold, sharper than I intended.

She flinched slightly.

I hated that I had made her flinch.

But I couldn’t face her.

Not when I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

Without another word, I stormed out of the room.

Leaving behind a truth that neither of us were ready to face.