Padmavati's palace woke under a dull grey sky. No breeze. No birdsong. The air was thick — the kind that came before a storm. Inside her chamber, Dattadevi stood by the tall lattice window, watching the horizon.
She wore a soft cotton sky-blue sari, her hair loosely braided over one shoulder. She looked peaceful. But her eyes — those deep, alert eyes — held tension.
There was something in the wind. She felt it in her bones.
Hidden signs
Later that morning, while walking past the temple corridor, Dattadevi overheard two young guards whispering:
"They're moving the old weapons again," one murmured.
"I thought that was just for the prince's recovery ritual."
"No. They've asked for guards to stay quiet. Something isn't right."
Dattadevi kept walking. Calm on the outside. But her heartbeat had shifted.
In a small records room tucked behind the main archive, she found it — a scroll left partly open on the floor. It had marks and arrows — mapping the southern forest villages, including the one where Vaidya Vishnugupt stayed.
Her hands clenched into fists.
"Veerkund," she whispered.
_______________
The royal chamber
In a quieter corner of the palace, King Ganapati Naga sat beside a table of scattered scrolls and brass cups of crushed herbs. His face was tired, lined with the weight of weeks.
Queen Sharvani stepped in, her saree rustling softly. She placed a warm hand on his shoulder.
"He coughed blood again," Ganapati said without looking up. "They say the poison has slowed, but I see fear in Ajay's eyes now."
"And in yours," Sharvani said gently.
He turned to face her. "What if the poison isn't the only thing killing him? What if someone here—"
"You're afraid of betrayal," she said, "but you're looking at the wrong person."
He looked away.
"You still question Dattadevi?" she asked.
"She's brave," he said quietly. "But her fire... it burns too close to the throne."
"Then let her burn for the right cause," Sharvani said. "And beware those who wear silk and offer poison in gold."
Ganapati looked at her.
"I meant Veerkund," she said softly. "You know who his father was. A man who once tried to claim your crown. Don't think ambition skips a generation."
Ganapati nodded slowly — his thoughts clouded.
______________
Evening — a familiar face, in unfamiliar clothes
Just as the lamps were being lit along the corridors, Dattadevi turned a corner — and froze.
There, standing tall in the armour of a palace guard, was Chandra — the man she had seen in the forest, at the healer's hut.
He removed his helmet and gave her a light nod.
"You?" she said, eyebrows raised.
"Reporting for duty," he replied, eyes amused. "You didn't say the palace needed guarding."
"You're no ordinary guard," she said.
"And you're no ordinary princess," he replied.
They stared at each other a moment too long.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, tone shifting. "You said you'd protect Vishnugupt."
"And I left him with good men," he said. "He'll arrive in two days. I gave you my word, didn't I?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't trust easily."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping.
"Neither do I. But here I am."
She tried to walk past him. He didn't block her path — but spoke quietly as she moved:
"Who are you really, Devi?"
She stopped and turned, her gaze sharp.
"I should ask you the same. You wear a soldier's face but speak like a prince."
He smiled faintly. "I suppose we're both good at masks."
And with that, she left.
______
Southern forest — Virasena's discovery
Far beyond the city, Virasena crept along a low ridge covered in vines. Below, in a hollow between the trees, dozens of men trained in silence. Fires burned low. Weapons glinted. Symbols of a serpent around a spear were painted on their sleeves.
Veerkund's private army.
Virasena pulled back, heart pounding.
He drew a symbol on the tree — the message mark — and slipped away to alert Ramayananda, the old merchant-priest who passed messages for both Samudragupta and Dattadevi.
The threat was real. And it was growing.
________
That night, in the garden
The palace garden was quiet. Jasmine flowers glowed white under the moonlight. Dattadevi walked alone, her wound still bandaged beneath her sleeve.
A rustle behind the trees.
She turned sharply.
It was Chandra, leaning casually against a stone pillar.
"You again," she said, more tired than angry.
"I like the night air," he replied. "And I heard this is where you come to think."
"I think better when I'm alone," she said.
"Do you?" he stepped closer. "Or do you just pretend to be?"
She frowned. "Why are you here?"
"To keep a promise."
He gently lifted her hand — the one bandaged.
"You reopened this," he said softly.
She didn't pull away. Not yet.
"It's nothing."
"It's blood."
He tore a strip from his waist sash and wrapped it around her arm. His hands were careful, firm but gentle.
When she looked up, their faces were close.
"I don't know what game you're playing," she said, voice low.
"No game," he said. "Just a man... wondering how a princess became a warrior."
"And you?" she asked. "What are you?"
He smiled — not wide, but real.
"Someone starting to admire the fire in your eyes."
For a moment, they didn't move.
Then she stepped back.
But not too far.
In a quiet chamber nearby
Ramayananda scribbled a note by lamplight.
To: The Emperor
Veerkund's army is real. Hidden in the woods.
The healer is safe. Your orders will be followed.
Also — Dattadevi has started trusting you. Don't break it.
He folded the message and sealed it with wax.
Soon, it would fly across the forests — straight into the hands of Samudragupta, still hidden beneath his alias, Chandra.