Vamsi Gupta was disturbed and distracted. He had just met his ailing son the night before, and he was sure he wouldn’t survive another night. But Vamsi Gupta had a duty to perform. Ravi Varman had trusted his years of experience in the war of his life. He couldn’t let his king down. Ever since he could remember, his family had served the kings of Suryapali. And no amount of personal loss had stopped them. He had to live up to his family name and expectations. Raja Viraj had made the strategies for the day. The previous night, he was with the accountants and the finance minister in a long meeting where they told him very clearly that Neelambargarh’s treasury was not going to survive if the war went on much longer. He had to pull out his aces and get over it fast. He knew the king would want him to take the call, and he did, making sure he called all the surviving generals and allies with the clear instruction. Target the main people. No more straying around. If it were up to him, he would have suggested the royals seek a peace treaty to minimise losses now that Ishaan Dev’s revenge was fulfilled. But he was not in a position to tell when not asked.
Maharaja Ishaan Dev found it hard to explain to himself why, even after killing Trishaan Dev, the feeling of revenge he had waited so long for, he didn’t feel the jubilation he expected to. He couldn’t help but be haunted first by his face when Ishaan Dev tightened his grip around his throat and broke his neck, and then by the thousands of memories that he had since his childhood with Trishaan Dev. It was like he knew two different people with the same face. He couldn’t help but wonder about Trishaan’s last words. Was he really a royal? How could his aunt know about that and never tell? Why? Could he, if given a chance, be better than Ravi and himself? Ishaan Dev sighed, trying to sleep, but he was wide awake. He walked out of his tent, watching the pyres burning in the distance and the red fumes and dark smoke filling up the night sky. The ashes flew with the wind, and the smell was of blood and pyres. He breathed in. He had sent a messenger to the capital. He expected him back by the end of the next day. He had to finish some unfinished promises.
Rajputra Aniruddha had faced Bhupati Madan Rai for the first time that dawn on the field. Raja Viraj had made it clear to him. His job was to target allied kings. And no better target to start from than the turned king. Rajputra Aniruddha hung his hammer club over his shoulder as the Sangramika chariot drove him right in front of Madan Rai. The man was mounted on his horse and running across the field over to the Neelambargarhi side in search of Ishaan Dev. He was stopped by Aniruddha’s chariot. He charged at the prince with a flail in hand and was thrown off his horse by the prince’s spear. The prince of Chandramer swung his club fully around his hand like a spinner and jumped down from his chariot to walk towards the fallen king. He swung his hammer, and Madan Rai moved away just in time to pick up his fallen spiked flail. A blow at Rajputra Aniruddha threw him off balance, and he landed a few feet away near his chariot. The spikes injured his hand and face as he stood up without losing the hammer from his grip. He charged at Madan Rai, who defended his move, and they locked weapons. Rajputra Aniruddha was high on his morals. He could not stand the kind of betrayal Aswar had done. Madan Rai would have to pay for the sins of his son. He swung the hammer at him repeatedly.
Vamsi Gupta aimed his spiked arrows at Raja Viraj, who stretched his bow. The arrows were released from both ends and cancelled each other out. Raja Viraj was quick with his next. He had the advantage of youth, and Vamsi Gupta had the advantage of experience. Soon they ran out of arrows after two injured Raja Viraj's arm and shoulder, and another hit Vamsi Gupta on the side of his abdomen. They could feel blood soaking their clothes, but they were not ready to give up just yet. Raja Viraj felt a little numb in his injured arm, but he was sure to aim his spear upright at the chariot of Vamsi Gupta. But soon Raja Viraj discovered that Vamsi Gupta was not in his best self. He was aware of how seriously they had managed to injure his son and knew that he was emotional. Raja Viraj was determined to end this battle once and for all.
Madan Rai’s dead body was pulled away from the battlefield by some of Aswar’s troops, who no longer wanted to be part of the war. Vairath’s troop, which had been feeling the same, especially with the uncertainty that loomed over them, seemed to join their side. It was Raja Sarthak who tried in vain to make the troops stay. First with politeness, then with a sense of duty and lastly with a threat. He soon realised that they were beyond his influence. It meant a huge blow to Suryapali’s strength. When Ravi Varman was informed of the same, he was frustrated. He had lost his best men and now his troops. He was all alone. Just then, almost like the universe wanted to remind him of home, a messenger arrived with a letter from the queen of Suryapali.
Raja Viraj had fainted due to acute blood loss on the battlefield. He had managed to spear Vamsi Gupta across his heart before he fell, and the medicine men informed Maharaja Ishaan Dev that a lot of blood was lost. He needed treatment, and that meant he was not fit for war anymore. Raja Girik was already injured, and the only able man left to be chief of arms was Rajputra Aniruddha, who seemed to remind him oddly of his younger self, impulsive and competent. But something made Ishaan Dev feel terribly uneasy. It was then that an entourage arrived, surprising him as the light of the torch, almost like an answer to his questions and a calm to his storm, entered the Maharani of Neelambargarh.
“Priya.” Ishaan Dev said it out loud to make sure he was not dreaming or hallucinating. “It is really you.” She nodded as the people bowed, and she walked up to him.
“What are you doing here?” He sounded agitated. “It is not safe.”
Before she spoke, Maharani Priyambada came near him and traced her hand carefully over his bruised face and arm. Ishaan Dev exhaled like her touch made him want to sleep peacefully in her arms.
“We need to talk about something important.” She said, looking around. “In private,” he nodded, immediately concerned for Mrityunjoy. She reassured him that he was safe and healthy. As they were about to approach the tent, a messenger arrived from the capital. With him was the Urn Priyambada recognised.
“But first, release Tarabai.” She said before the king could speak. “She has suffered enough. She will be happy to know you avenged her death.” Ishaan Dev could only nod as he watched her take the Urn, touch it to her forehead and hand it over to him. Devdoot came in with urgency and bowed.
“It is the Raja. His fever shot up,” he informed Priyambada. She frowned a little.
“You go see what he needs. I will…” Ishaan Dev made Priyambada nod as she walked away with Devdoot towards the medical tent.
“Have you met Urvi?” She asked as he shook his head, removing the curtain of the tent.
“Go on then. I command you.” She insisted as Devdoot bowed and left. Priyambada entered the tent and saw Raja Viraj unconscious on the bed while the nurses rushed around him.
“Will he be fine?” She managed to ask the medicine man as her throat went dry. His children were too young. What could she answer, Smriti? The medicine man shrugged.
“It is a good sign that his fever is receding with the medicine, but I honestly can’t tell until some more time has passed.” She nodded, composing herself as she walked up to the bed. Priyambada fought off an impulse to touch his sweaty forehead as he slept and turned to walk back to the Maharaja’s tent and wait for him to return.
When Urvi hugged Devdoot, it felt like an eternity had passed between them. She caressed his scars. He smiled proudly at her. “I am not afraid of war anymore.” She nodded. “I saw that the day you saved her.”
“I was saving you, too,” he kissed her forehead. How he wished the war were over.
Ishaan Dev released the ashes of Tarabai in the flowing stream of the Maya. Like her name, the illusion of life that bound Tarabai’s soul was now free. He remembered her as he closed his eyes and prayed in the knee-deep water. It was cold, and he shivered a little before he walked up the bank and headed to his tent. Maharani Priyambada paced the room in a pensive mood and stopped at his appearance.
“It's done.” He said quite formally. She nodded. “He is still in danger.” Ishaan Dev sighed. Priyambada continued. “Sumedha wrote to me.” He stopped picking up his jewellery as he frowned at her. “What more could she say now?”
“Something you should know.” She handed him the two scrolls. “I… we… both of us as queens believe that this war should end. We are on the verge of attacking our children and wiping out the dynasty. We should wake up before hatred completely blinds us.” Ishaan Dev looked amused at his wife.
“What else did you expect?” he asked as Priyambada pushed the scrolls again. “Read them. This war is meaningless.” She shook her head. “If we can make a difference and bring peace to our people and our children, should we not?” Ishaan Dev sighed as he read both scrolls with a frown. Priyambada waited. He then cleared his throat.
“I understand your motherly concerns. I respect it. But your idea of a utopian world where no wars exist will not happen as long as monarchy and power exist,” he shook his head. “And you are counting Sumedha’s words; she is not a co-regent of Suryapali and makes no decisions. It doesn’t matter what she thinks.”
“It matters to me. It will matter to Ravi Varman once he realises he has been played with.” Priyambada was firm. “She may not be a co-regent, but I am. I will not let you or anyone pull my people’s future down to serve their own ego.” Ishaan Dev inhaled at her words. Her words stirred him more than the battle did, and somehow they made him think.
“We will be left with nobody to share a victory with if we win. We will be left with nobody to mourn us if we lose. That is what the cost of this war is. Is it even worth that, Raja?” Ishaan Dev inhaled. Had she really not thought of the extremities till then? Hope was a really funny thing then. Ishaan Dev gathered. Especially to women.
“What do you mean you will ask for a treaty?” Raja Sarthak was agitated. “I got you so far. You can’t quit.”
“Look around you, delusional old man.” Ravi Varman snapped. “Who else is left? It is you and me.” He shook his head. “And unlike you, I have a life to live, children to raise.”
“What about Suryapali? What about your mother’s dreams?” Raja Sarthak seemed irked.
“I am not giving up, Suryapali. I am stopping a war that shouldn’t have happened.” Ravi Varman was firm.
“And you trust Ishaan Dev to agree to your terms? Are you stupid?”
“Raja Sarthak.” Ravi Varman was firm. “Don’t forget who you are talking to. I am your king.”
“I apologise, Your Highness.” He was quick and calculated. “Don’t get me wrong.”
“If you don’t want to accompany me to the treaty, you can leave for Gandak and write to Devastuti. Tell her to go back to Suryapali. The war is over. It is an order, not a request.”
“She is not fit to travel.” Raja Sarthak murmured unsurely. The war was not over because he said so. Ravi Varman pretended not to hear him. Raja Sarthak was not one to give up.
“What if she is lying?” Raja Sarthak asked, “What if the document is forged?”
“You are speaking about my queen.” Ravi Varman warned him coldly.
“I know that, but should you just trust words?” Ravi Varman did not speak. He need not divulge details of his letters or his family equations to an outsider. He inhaled, hoping the Raja would stop.
“It is for the best for everyone, the states, the economy and the people.” Ravi Varman straightened himself. “You are welcome to stay in Suryapali as long as you like. Come along.”
"Thank you for the offer, Your Highness. But I will come along once my grandson is here." Raja Sarthak forced a smile. He excused himself and walked away. Ravi Varman sighed. He had one more complexity waiting for him once he reached home. His mother.
Haimanti was sitting on a bench in the ladies’ garden, silently staring at the evening sky, when Sumedha approached her. She could not feel her presence until Sumedha silently placed her hand on her shoulder, making her jolt.
“The prince and the princess are here. I was thinking if you wished to go play with them?” Sumedha asked softly. Haimanti suddenly looked fazed at her kindness before she burst into tears. Hiding her face with her palm, she cried.
“I wish I could die. I wish not to live anymore.” Sumedha sat down beside her and patted her head gently. "I am part of the sin. Please punish me."
“Don’t be silly. You played no part in anything. Of course, you were too influenced and scared to tell us the truth. You are young. And…” She tightened her jaws. It was a mystery to her how this girl loved the man she knew and hated so much.
“I committed a grave sin today. I deserve to die." Haimanti lamented. Sumedha frowned at her words.
"Today?"
"I killed his child,” Haimanti whispered as Sumedha looked at her, shocked. “I went to a medicine man who lives in the back lanes of the worker village and…”
“You were expecting his child?” Sumedha’s throat went dry. “Why did you do that?” She gasped. “That is the highest form of sin to…”
“I promised him.” She sobbed. “I promised him that I would never ever let our child be another Trishaan Dev.”
“But that was before…” Sumedha couldn’t speak. If anything, Haimanti had saved the dynasty and the future of her children from a history doomed to repeat itself. Sumedha suddenly found respect for her.
“But where does it leave me?” Haimanti asked all of a sudden. “I lost everything.”
Sumedha decided. She knew it was not hers to make, but she would persuade her husband. He already had a wife. He could save a woman who was saving his dynasty. He could be different from how his father was. She prayed that the treaty would go through.
