Abhira and Ruhi were orphans. It was in their orphanage that their bond grew strong.

Abhira was someone who never hesitated to show her affection, while Ruhi, though more reserved, always felt the need to protect her sister. She knew Abhira's trusting nature could make her vulnerable, and she feared that people might take advantage of her.

In fact, Ruhi was worried for the same reason now. Since last night, when Abhira informed her about an upcoming interview with Mr. Abhinav Sharma, the renowned industrialist, Ruhi had been restless.

Who didn't know his name in the country? A generous businessman, but now more infamous for something else—

The murder case.

The murder of his brother, Neil.

Although the court had acquitted Abhinav, clearing his name of any involvement, suspicions still lingered in the public's mind. Ruhi couldn't shake off the thoughts swirling in her head. What if he bribed his way out? He's one of the richest men in India—he certainly has the means. What if he's actually dangerous? What if he harms Abhira?

She sighed.

Last night, she had wanted to talk to Abhira about it, but exhaustion from work had dragged her straight to bed without even eating.

Ruhi snapped out of her thoughts when the burnt smell of toast wafted into her nose. Abhira held a piece dangerously close to her face.

"Oops... burnt it a little," Abhira said, giving her best puppy eyes.

"A little?" Ruhi raised an eyebrow, holding up what was basically a piece of charcoal.

"Oh, come on! You act like you're a master chef. I still remember that burned khichdi you made." Abhira pouted.

Ruhi couldn't argue with that. Both of them were terrible cooks.

As they sat at the table, stuffing their mouths with the barely edible toast, Abhira struggled to chew, hoping that eating it faster would make it taste better. Ruhi, however, composed herself and cleared her throat.

"You're really going to interview him?" she asked.

Abhira, still choking on the toast, nodded while trying to pick crumbs off her chin like a toddler.

Ruhi sighed. How can she be so oblivious to everything around her? She shook her head before continuing, "I hope you're prepared—with his recent awards, achievements, and all the relevant questions?"

"I did my research, Di. Even about his past life, where he was apparently some kind of king," Abhira said dramatically, making faces.

Ruhi rolled her eyes. "Be serious."

"Relax, Di. I know my job. I won't ask anything provocative about the great Neil murder case." Abhira wiggled her fingers in mock suspense. "I'm not that kind of journalist."

"I just..." Ruhi started, then hesitated.

"I know, I know," Abhira interrupted playfully. "You're worried about me, think I'm too naive, and believe the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Got it, Di. Anything else?"

Ruhi exhaled deeply, knowing that pressing further would only annoy her. Instead, she got up from the table.

"I'm heading to work."

"Work?" Abhira smirked. "You know, borewell diggers technically do the same thing as you—except at least they find water. Meanwhile, you and your artifacts... phrrrrkkk." She made a dramatic blowing sound.

Ruhi shot her a glare. "I swear, I'll hit you." She said and  grabbed her bag and walked out.

Abhira didn't mean any disrespect towards Ruhi's profession, but she had always been fascinated by the idea of unearthing hidden treasures. She would constantly ask, What did you find today? only to be met with dull replies like, We're just digging the top layers; there's still a long way to go. It bored her.

From day one, Abhira had dreamed that Ruhi would discover some priceless diamonds, which she then planned to sell and become rich. Ruhi had tried, time and again, to explain that anything they found belonged to the government, but Abhira, being her , refused to accept it.

As Ruhi walked, her phone rang. It was her excavation lead.

"Ruhi... I might not be able to come in today. I have a personal emergency. I've sent you an email and informed the head of operations as well."

Ruhi's brows furrowed.

"Also, remember—our team said they've hit the last layer. Be careful. And good luck finding any artifacts."

The call ended.

Ruhi groaned, Great. Just great.

*********************

The Place shimmered under the glow of golden torches, their light reflecting off the intricately carved marble pillars. The scent of sandalwood and rose lingered in the air, carried by a soft evening breeze . Beneath the grand dome, where the mural of the great ancestors watched in silent judgment, the court was gathered in tense anticipation.

"How can a woman lead, Rajmata?" The minister's voice quivered slightly, though he masked it 

Rajmata sat upon the gilded throne, adorned in crimson silk embroidered with gold. A testament to her royal bloodline. Her eyes, sharp as a falcon's, bore into the man who had dared to question her.

"And why not?" she asked, her voice like the low rumble of a distant storm.

The court held its breath as she continued. "Both Tara and Heera shall lead this kingdom to glory and peace. They are warriors born of fire and steel, and the blood of kings flows through their veins."

A murmur spread through the assembly like the rustling of silk.

"That would only be in the absence of a Rajkumar, but we have one—waiting to ascend the throne," the minister hesitantly reminded her.

A sudden laugh rang through the chamber—rich, commanding, and laced with an unmistakable warning. The court fell silent. Even the torches seemed to flicker in fear.

Rajmata leaned forward, her golden bangles clinking softly. Her kohl-rimmed eyes gleamed with power.

"It is merely... an opinion...," the minister stammered.

Rajmata rose from her throne, the heavy folds sweeping the marble floor. A hush fell over the court .

"Opinions," she declared, "are spoken in counsel, not uttered as decrees."

The air grew heavy with the weight of her authority. No one dared to utter another word. The ancestors on the painted walls behind  bore witness to history being written.

And if Ranisa dares to defy? Her voice resonated through the gilded halls, each syllable carrying the weight of sovereignty. She rose from her throne, her presence alone enough to command silence.

"I stand above her, not by desire, but by divine decree. 

It is I who bears the burden of this empire, I who shall shape its destiny. 

No bond, no sentiment, no defiance shall waver my resolve, for I alone know what is just, what is right, and what must be done for the glory and safety of my land."

The court went silent....