The underground chamber of Veerkund's private wing was built from stone and silence — both well-used. The walls absorbed secrets. The fire crackled in its clay pit, and shadows danced with cruelty.
"She found him," Veerkund muttered, running a dagger slowly across his palm — not to cut, but to think.
A spy knelt behind him, cloaked in travel-worn cloth. "Vaidya Vishnugupta has agreed. He arrives in two days."
Veerkund's lips curled.
"Then we act before that. Burn two more huts outside the main village. Use torches this time. Make it seem like rebels from the southern forest."
The man nodded, ready to vanish.
"And—" Veerkund's voice dropped, sharper than the dagger. "Make sure Ajay's nursemaid is replaced. Poison his water — silver flask only."
The spy hesitated for a heartbeat, then bowed. "As you command."
Veerkund turned toward the fire. "If I can't cut the branch... I'll rot the roots."
___________________
In the quiet healing chamber, Dattadevi sat beside Ajay, who was still pale and resting on a cotton mat over the cool earth floor.
The room was made of aged brick and neem beams, with earthen pots steaming with herbal fumes. The floor was swept clean, the air heavy with basil, camphor, and sandalwood.
"Hold on," she whispered, adjusting his scarf. "Vishnugupta will come."
He opened his eyes weakly. "You're bleeding again."
She smiled faintly. "It's nothing."
"Still wearing the mask?" he asked.
"Sometimes more than one."
Ajay looked at her, his gaze calm despite the pain. "You're changing, Devi. Becoming flame."
She brushed his hair back, her throat tight.
"Flame or not, I'll burn down anything that harms you."
_____________
Elsewhere in Padmavati, in a small back room of the shrine, an elderly merchant-priest named Ramayananda shuffled his scrolls. His simple white dhoti and sacred thread gave him the look of a harmless record-keeper — which he was.
And more. HE ia the same person from whom rajadhiraj samrat samudragupta asked to protect the princess
He dipped a reed into ink and began to write, his hand steady:
"Veerkund plots a double blow — one at the brother, the other at the villages.
Two days before the healer arrives.
He grows desperate."
He sealed the scroll with a thin red thread, rolled it into a copper case, and handed it to a silent boy with a turban and a walking stick.
"Give this to Chandra."
The boy bowed and vanished into the alley.
Ramayananda closed the ledgers. No one suspected the shrine's merchant-priest of sending messages to the Samrat.
Not yet.
__________________-
At a temporary outpost near the southern fields, Samudragupta sat by a low wooden desk, map open before him. A reed pen rested on his fingers, unmoving.
A breeze carried the scent of night grass and dust.
In a shaded pavilion near the courtyard, still under the name Chandra, sipped cool water from an earthen cup.
His mind was far from the vines above or the scent of jasmine drifting nearby.
"Veerkund hides something," he murmured.
Beside him, Harisena leaned on the wooden railing.
"You noticed it too?" the poet said softly.
"He watches the Princess too closely," Samudragupta continued. "And yet, she doesn't flinch."
"She never does," Harisena said. "She burns, but she does not show the smoke."
Samudragupta gave him a sidelong glance. "Poets."
"I only say what others fear to feel."
He turned back to the garden, where he had once seen her — veiled, noble, but burning with secrets.
"She called me a friend," he murmured.
"And yet, you aren't one."
Samudragupta smirked faintly. "Perhaps I want to be."
He stared ahead, troubled.
A knock.
Virasena entered — tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a simple warrior's angavastra over his dark cotton tunic.
"The men are ready," he said. "We could move by nightfall if needed."
Samudragupta didn't look up. "Do you trust Ramayananda?"
"With my life."
Samudragupta finally looked up. "He says Veerkund is planning something large. Too large for just a village raid."
He stood, hands behind his back.
"I don't feel right leaving her exposed. Not while I'm blind."
"I could go," Virasena offered. "You trust me."
"I do." Samudragupta turned, his eyes thoughtful. "But I'll send you to the border instead. Watch the southern marshes. If Veerkund has allies hiding in those ruins... we'll know."
Virasena smiled. "If I find them, they'll wish they'd stayed hidden."
Samudragupta clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"You're my blade, Vira. Cut where I cannot."
he turned toward window
His jaw tightened as he read Ramayananda's coded warning.
"He strikes now," Samudragupta muttered.
Beside him, Vaidya Vishnugupta stirred herbs over a copper flame, silent but listening.
"He'll burn the village," Samudragupta continued. "And poison the prince."
Samudragupta gave instructions to Vishnugupta.
"Prepare quickly. You'll leave at dawn. And if I'm not there—go anyway."
The old physician nodded, eyes glinting. "You're worried for her."
Samudragupta didn't answer.
But from the look in his eyes, the answer was clear.
___________________________
Back at the palace, Dattadevi met Rajima in the hallway outside her chamber. Rajima handed her the scroll with trembling fingers.
"Ramayananda," she said. "From the shrine. Again."
Dattadevi unrolled it in the corner, eyes scanning every word.
"Poison," she breathed. "Ajay."
Her fingers clenched around the parchment.
"We move tonight," she whispered.
"I'll ready the lookalike," Rajima replied. "And your gear."
_________________________
That evening, Samudragupta stood beside a rusted torch-post outside the village wall. A folded letter lay in his palm — her letter, delivered by Ramayananda's messenger.
She had written only one line:
"Protect the healer. And protect the innocent."
He smiled.
"She asks me," he said softly, "as if I'm not a Samrat. again she wouldn't know ". smiles
But he folded the letter with care and placed it close to his heart.
__________________
Meanwhile, in the northern court, Virasena arrived. Samudragupta had sent him with quiet instructions — secure the marshes, find the hidden camps near the border, and report back within a day.
Virasena was tall, muscular, with sun-dark skin and a habit of speaking only when needed. The southern border trusted him. Rebels feared him.
"I'll move with four men," he told the local head guard.
"Why so few?"
Virasena smiled grimly. "When one is enough, four is generous."
________________
In Padmavati's court, tension lingered. King Ganapati Naga had noticed Dattadevi's calmer presence. He asked more questions now. Where she went. Who she saw.
"She visited the shrine?" he asked Rajima that morning.
"Yes, Maharaj."
"And her friend… the one who escorted the healer?"
"Chandra," Rajima replied carefully. "A scholar-warrior from the south."
Ganapati Naga raised an eyebrow.
"Strange name for a friend."
But he didn't press. He merely nodded.