Rana Udai Singh had managed to upset some local chieftains, especially the Bhills, and Kunwar Partap had to play mediator between them. It was not until the situation of internal rebellion was dealt with that the marriage of Rajkumar Padmavati was planned. Dheer Bai was right, one extravagant celebration of the win was enough for the gossip to die down, especially when Udai Singh openly praised and rewarded his firstborn with a sword. He was no longer the insecure king but a doting father. How short people’s collective memory was. With that, most of the Rani Mahal had also forgotten about the suspicions on Dheer Bai. All except Rani Jivanta Bai, who still did not allow Kunwar Partap anywhere near her. Rani Dheer Bai had entered the inner hallway to find the king with his chief queen and Sajja Bai there. Upon her appearance, Sajja Bai smiled politely, asking her to take a seat.
“We were just discussing some of the festivities for the wedding. Come, Behena. Sit with us. Ranaji says you must have some suggestions.” Sajja Bai smiled as Rani Dheer Bai eyed Maharani Jivanta Bai. Her face was unreadable. Dheer Bai’s mind raced. It was impossible to try and eliminate Kunwar Partap as a contender to the throne as well as from the king’s good side, especially now that he was commanding the army. Could she try another assassination? Would it be easier to try if he were away from the palace? Or if he was kept away, perhaps she could plant a seed of doubt in the Rana’s mind that his firstborn was assigning troops to rebel. She knew the Rao of Bijoliya had helped the prince once, behind the king’s back. He could do it again. But assassination was an easier option.
“I … was wondering who would welcome the groom’s party at Bijoliya.” She cleared her throat as her husband frowned.
“Rao Ramrakh would, obviously.”
“Yes, but would they not feel insulted if nobody from Chittorgarh reached there?” Dheer Bai shook her head as Sajja Bai seemed to agree. “After all, they will cross over the border to Mewar only to be welcomed at Bijoliya for the night.”
“But if any of us go, how would things happen here?” Sajja Bai wondered.
“Maybe you can send Kunwar Vikram.” Rani Dheer Bai suggested, fully aware that her suggestion would be dismissed. Sajja Bai would suggest Kunwar Shakti, and Rana Udai Singh, who did not quite trust Shakti, would inevitably suggest his firstborn. None of the queens would be able to refuse his words. Once Kunwar Partap went there, she could hire an assassin and this time make sure he was eliminated for good. Rani Dheer Bai felt uncomfortable as Maharani Jivanta Bai kept staring at her silently as the conversation flowed the way she expected. Jivanta Bai smiled at her, making her feel conscious. “Of course, Partap is the oldest brother; he should host them there. It's only fitting. He has to make sure they are safe as well. After all, any kind of security breach in the wedding would mean an impending war with Bundi; we cannot afford it so soon. Our treasury will run dry, and bigger forces will target us then. It's only justified that Kunwar Partap makes sure that security is tight, right, Dheer Baiji?” Dheer Bai looked up at the chief queen and nodded silently. She knew what the Maharani meant even when the others were clueless about it. She was right. Dheer Bai cursed herself under her breath. There was no way Kunwar Partap could be harmed without fingers being pointed among states, and wars would follow. Jivanta Bai was right, and she had been played.
“But Kunwar Shakti should go with him. Learn from his brother.” Sajja Bai insisted. “They can escort the wedding party to Chittorgarh after a few days' rest.” Udai Singh agreed and summoned the princes to tell them.
“Bijoliya?” Kunwar Shakti frowned. “But I have never been there. Can’t Rao Ramrakh host them?” He stopped at his mother’s displeased glance. Kunwar Partap cleared his throat. “We will start preparing to leave.” He eyed his mother, smiling faintly.
“Why hurry, Kunwar Partap? They will not start from Bundi until next week.”
“But…” Kunwar Partap shrugged, “We should see to the preparations.” Maharani Jivanta Bai smiled. “I think the people at Bijoliya are responsible and competent, don’t you, Kunwar Partap?” He nodded at his mother’s words. “But I suppose you can go two days later.” She watched him press his lips as he nodded with a straight face, and Shakti sulked.
“Kunwarsa seems eager to leave for Bijoliya.” Sajja Bai made Kunwar Partap look up at her words as his mother nodded, and Dheer Bai observed them suspiciously.
“He must have made some friends while he was there.” Sajja Bai smiled. Jivanta Bai eyed her son as she nodded, “I think so too.”
“No.” Kunwar Partap shook his head with a mild protest, “I made no friends, Majhli Maasa.” He walked away before Sajja Bai could react.
“What’s wrong with him?” Kunwar Shakti wondered out loud.
“Your Dadabhai, you find out.” Jivanta Bai insisted as he looked confused, shook his head and followed his brother to the corridor. Dheer Bai shared a confused glance with her husband. Was it some secret threat she was unaware of that the chief queen was cooking?
“Dadabhai, wait… You never told me you had been to Bijoliya.” Kunwar Partap stopped at Kunwar Shakti’s accusatory tone.
“I… yes briefly… Daata Hukum found us there.” He had never spoken of his exile with anybody in the palace. He assumed the people who mattered knew.
“Where did you stay?” Kunwar Shakti was not going to let go.
“The village, of course.” Kunwar Partap eyed his brother’s narrowed brows.
“Did you not meet Raoji?” Kunwar Partap nodded. “Briefly, he offered me a job to help with the disguise.”
“That is nice. What was the job?” Kunwar Shakti waited for an answer in vain. “Bhai Shakti, will you stand here and chit-chat or prepare for the journey?”
“Is it true that you made friends there?” He stopped walking away at his brother’s question. He suppressed a smile that involuntarily formed on his lips briefly as he nodded, “Yes, a horse, Bijli.” He joked as Shakti knew there was no point in asking further. Kunwar Partap walked back to his chambers.
“I wonder if anyone else trained her. It's been over a year…” Kunwar Partap wondered aloud as he took out some of his clothes from a trunk. A maid asked if she could help, and he dismissed her. “No, I will choose my clothes.” He pulled out all his Angrakhas, confused. “I wonder if she remembers my promise…” He smiled, amused to himself, imagining the scared face of the princess of Bijoliya. It was his opportunity to keep his word.
“Make sure the curtains are all drawn, and there is water and fruits for both princes at all times.” Ever since the news came from Chittorgarh about the arrival of the princes, Ajbante Kanwar had been feeling restless. There was an eager anticipation of meeting him again, and Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar inspected the room that was set to her liking. She had chosen the curtains, bed sheet and ordered extra pillows. She had inspected the blankets and how the room smelled. She chose the flowers to be put in the vase and appointed the servants who would attend to them after careful evaluation. He would like something subtle on the wall. She ordered a different painting and inspected the new carpet on the floor, which was blue like the sky, and let the maids clean the mirror and set aside the desk. Satisfied with the work, she walked out to the balustrade, carefully wrapping the Dupatta over her head and extending it across her bosom, as she was suddenly aware of her changed body and the stares of people around her. The sun was setting between the hills on the horizon, and she folded her hands with a smile. He would be in Bijoliya at dawn. Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar wondered if her friends knew the news. They would surely intercept her at the temple if they did. She was amused at how silly they were. Why would Kunwar Partap be interested in knowing that some of his subjects could cook his favourite food or weave a quilt for him? He did not look like someone who would indulge in meaningless banter with anyone. Her eyes fell on her own reflection as she walked back indoors and faced the mirror. One of the maids had put a lamp near it. Ajbante Kanwar ran her fingers through her braided hair, down her neckline to the edge of her dupatta that hid the cleavage that made her feel conscious. She eyed her own features and was suddenly aware that she looked different than she used to when she was eleven. She was almost thirteen now. Her father had rejected two proposals that came her way, and she did not know why. Perhaps he expected great things for his daughter. But she? She thought she was as ordinary as the wildflower that grew between two damp rocks in the remote forest of the Aravalli. Nothing was special about her, nothing worth remembering her by. So, it would be perfectly fine if Kunwar Partap had erased her existence as soon as he was no longer Kika. He was Kunwar Partap, the heir of Mewar, leading troops against Afghans, making administrative decisions. He was Kunwar Partap. Meeting him could be a highlight of her life, something she would remember for the rest of her life. To him, it would be an episode of unpleasant experience he perhaps wanted to forget.
That evening, Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar visited Bijli at her stable. She patted her as Kaka fed the mare, and when they were alone, she whispered to the mare, “I guess we liked him, didn’t we, Bijli? I wish he had not forgotten you. You loved challenging him, didn’t you?” Bijli neighed, making Ajbante Kanwar smile as she hugged the agitated mare. “Perhaps you loved him a little too. Didn’t you, silly girl?” She could not understand why her throat felt heavy as she cleared it and left Bijli to rest.
