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The warm afternoon sun filtered through the intricately carved windows of the palace, casting golden patterns on the marble floor. A soft breeze from the open arches stirred the curtains, bringing with it the faint scent of jasmine. The grand hall was unusually lively, with the soft hum of voices filling the space. Princess Bhanumati stood at the center of attention, poised and elegant, her sari draped flawlessly, the rich gold and emerald hues shimmering with every movement. Her dark hair, adorned with delicate jewels, cascaded down her back as she spoke with Queen Gandhari and Shakuni.

"You’ve truly mastered the art of diplomacy, Princess," Gandhari remarked, her voice warm but carrying the weight of authority. Despite the blindfold covering her eyes, the queen’s sharpness was palpable. "It is rare to see someone so young with such wisdom in matters of state."

Bhanumati bowed her head respectfully. "Your words honor me, Queen Gandhari. My father always taught me that a princess must understand her kingdom's needs before her own desires. It would be a privilege to serve both Kalinga and Hastinapur."

Shakuni, reclining on the cushioned seat beside his sister, couldn’t hide his sly grin. His beady eyes flickered with amusement as he added, "Indeed, Bhanumati, you have a sharp mind. Kalinga’s future will be in excellent hands. And," he paused for effect, "it’s always good to know that Hastinapur can rely on such a wise princess for the future."

Anya, standing near the back of the hall with a small tray of flowers for Gandhari’s afternoon prayers, felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She clenched her hands around the tray, her eyes drawn to Bhanumati. The princess was so calm, so composed, speaking effortlessly while Anya felt more out of place than ever. A pang of envy rose in her chest, but she shook it off, focusing instead on her task.

Lost in thought, Anya’s foot caught on the corner of the richly woven carpet beneath her. The tray slipped from her grasp, the flowers scattering across the polished floor, some landing near Bhanumati’s feet.

The sudden noise startled everyone. Bhanumati gasped softly, her graceful posture faltering as she took a step back, her ankle twisting slightly. She stumbled, her delicate sandals scuffing the floor. Gandhari rose immediately, her hand outstretched in concern, despite her inability to see. "Bhanumati!" she called, her voice laced with worry.

Anya’s face turned crimson as she dropped to her knees, gathering the fallen flowers. "I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean—"

Gandhari’s face remained calm, though her voice held a stern edge. "Anya, you must be more careful. We have important guests here, and accidents like these cannot happen."

Anya’s heart sank, guilt tightening around her chest. "I... I'm truly sorry, mata." She turned to Bhanumati, her voice trembling with remorse. "Princess, are you alright? Please forgive me."

Bhanumati gave a soft, reassuring smile, though her eyes glinted with a coolness that made Anya’s skin prickle. "It’s alright, Princess Anya," she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "No harm was done. Accidents happen." But despite her kind words, something in her gaze remained distant, as if she were assessing Anya’s every movement, every misstep.

Shakuni leaned forward with a mocking smirk, his tone playful yet laced with condescension. "Anya, my dear, the palace is no place for carelessness. You must learn to walk with more grace, especially in such delicate company."

Anya’s face flushed deeper, her fingers fumbling with the scattered flowers. "I’ll be more careful next time. I promise."

Bhanumati, still smiling, stepped back gracefully, avoiding the mess of petals. "It’s nothing to worry about, Anya. Just remember, in a palace like this, every move is watched."

Her words lingered in the air, their meaning sinking deeper into Anya’s mind. With a final bow, Anya gathered the tray and quickly left the hall, her heart heavy and her mind clouded with doubt.

---

Later that afternoon, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Anya wandered aimlessly through the palace gardens. The soft rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds offered little solace to her troubled mind. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her, but every thought led back to Bhanumati—her grace, her ease, the way everyone seemed drawn to her.

As she passed by a large banyan tree, she heard voices, light laughter carried by the breeze. Glancing over, she saw Duryodhan’s brothers—Dushasan, Vikarna, and the others—gathered around Bhanumati. They were smiling, laughing at something she had said, their admiration clear in their faces.

"Tell us more about the festivals in Kalinga," Dushasan said, his usual mischievous tone replaced by genuine interest.

Vikarna nodded eagerly. "Yes, your stories are so fascinating, Princess. We must visit Kalinga one day."

Anya’s heart sank as she watched them, her chest tightening with a mixture of jealousy and insecurity. Bhanumati had captured their attention effortlessly, while she, Anya, felt invisible in their presence. Turning away, she hurried back toward the palace, her footsteps heavy on the cobblestones.

---

Inside the palace, the atmosphere felt even more stifling. As Anya made her way through the hall, she spotted Duryodhan and Karn standing together by one of the grand windows, deep in conversation. And, once again, Bhanumati was with them, her face serene, her presence commanding their attention.

Anya hesitated, her usual playful smile fading as she approached them. "Duryodhan," she called softly, "let’s go to the garden. I’m feeling... a bit restless."

Duryodhan barely glanced at her, his brow furrowed as he focused on his discussion with Karn. "Not now, Anya," he replied, his tone clipped. "I’m busy. There are important matters to discuss."

Anya’s smile faltered, her chest tightening. "But you’ve been with her all day," she said, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice.

Duryodhan sighed, running a hand through his hair. His voice softened, but the impatience was still there. "Anya, we’ll talk later. This is not the time."

His words stung more than she expected. Anya swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden rush of tears. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart heavy with hurt.

---

The gardens were bathed in the soft golden light of sunset, the air cool and fragrant. Anya found herself by the lotus pond, staring into the still waters, her thoughts racing. Everything felt wrong. Bhanumati’s arrival had unsettled the balance, and she couldn’t shake the growing feeling of being an outsider in her own life.

"Princess Anya."

The voice was soft but carried a cold undercurrent that sent a shiver down Anya’s spine. She turned to see Bhanumati approaching, her sari flowing gracefully behind her, her face calm and composed.

Anya’s eyes narrowed, her usual humor gone. "What do you want, Bhanumati?"

Bhanumati’s smile remained, unfazed by Anya’s tone. "I noticed you seemed upset earlier. I thought it best to clarify a few things."

Anya crossed her arms, her voice sharp. "Clarify what?"

Bhanumati stepped closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, though her tone remained unnervingly steady. "You should learn to speak more kindly to me, Anya."

Anya scoffed, her heart pounding. "And why would I do that?"

Bhanumati’s smile deepened, her eyes glinting with a dangerous certainty. "Because soon, we’ll be sharing a husband."

Anya’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering. "What are you talking about?"

Bhanumati’s expression didn’t waver. "I’m here to marry Crown Prince Duryodhan. Our union is a political alliance—Kalinga and Hastinapur united. Surely, you understand, Anya. This isn’t about love. It’s about power, about securing the future of two great kingdoms."

Anya shook her head, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Duryodhan loves me. He would never marry anyone else."

Bhanumati’s gaze softened, almost pitying. "Love?" she repeated, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. "Anya, you’re still so naive. Marriages in royal families are about alliances, not love. Duryodhan may care for you, but that won’t change the fact that our marriage is inevitable. You, on the other hand, are the adopted princess of Dwarka. Do you truly believe you’re fit to handle the responsibilities of a queen?"

Anya opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She stood frozen, her mind reeling from the weight of Bhanumati’s words. The confidence she had always held began to slip away, replaced by doubt and insecurity.

With one last glance, Bhanumati turned gracefully, her voice soft but firm as she walked away. "There’s room for both of us, Anya," she called over her shoulder,