Raindrops had barely begun splattering on the ground when the grasp on Nandini's hand tightened and she found herself doing an about-turn on the uneven path.

"Where are you – wait! I don't want to go back yet," Nandini objected.

They had covered only a short distance from the tiny shrine. And though neither had broken the silence until now, the walk had been even more comfortable and blissful than the first part of their journey. She had hoped they could walk to the lake, but the beautiful water body was far away. But in spite of the drizzle, she didn't want the walk to end. It would have been reason enough that the vegetation was growing denser and more colourful, and beauty of the woods was increasing as they explored its verdant and serene home. But her unwillingness to return was rooted in the fact that the quiet moments they had spent together were the happiest she'd experienced in a long time.

"I don't want you to get caught in the rain," Prithvi replied mulishly.

Touched, she gently said, "I won't fall sick. It's just a drizzle."

"That was all it took for you to catch cold and fever last time," he reminded her brusquely.

He remembered, she thought with a spurt of joy and love.

"It was not because of the rain," she pacified. "People in the neighbourhood were suffering from viral fever at the time. I must have caught the bug from someone."

"Maybe. But I'm not taking the risk," he said mulishly, not pausing to listen.

She lovingly stroked his forearm. "Don't be so worried about me."

"You? I'm worried about me," Prithvi corrected darkly. "You have to be focussed on me. Not the other way round. I'm not going to spend the next two days watching you sulk and fall down stairs and cry and dream about saving me from the possibility of having a normal girlfriend."

Put off by the truth and the unjust implication, she angrily said, "I am normal!"

"As normal as my life," he supported mordantly.

"I don't want to go back yet," she snapped, spiritedly – though ineffectively - trying to stay in one spot. In the morning too, he had taken advantage of her relatively puny strength to haul her to the roof. She was not going to let him keep taking decisions.

To her surprise, he paused when they were passing under one of the shade-giving trees that were abundant in the area.

He turned and looked at her thoughtfully, then moved to stand facing her.

"You have a point. We shouldn't hurry back," he concurred with a warm smile. "It has stopped drizzling anyways. We could spend some more time here."

Nandini smiled back uncertainly. The joy of a minor victory was fading speedily. It was unlike him to give in easily, she thought with trepidation. And that gorgeous smile of his....something had occurred to him...something that was not in her favour...

"You want to continue on this track?" he was asking civilly. "Or do you think it's time we change direction and bravely go into the forest?" he quizzed, examining the isolated woods.

At the perfectly harmless question, alarm bells in Nandini's head rang raucously. But it was absurd of her to feel petrified. He was talking about their walk...wasn't he?

Quickly deciding it wasn't worth the risk to find out, she extracted her hand from his clasp and awkwardly said, "I think we should go back. You were right. It might start raining heavily."

"Are you sure?" he asked, disappointed. "I feel like we haven't spent any quality time together for months."

"But we have! Today morning, and day before yesterday -"

"Our definitions of quality time are very different," he solemnly apprised her.

She blushed and went around him, mumbling about being in time for breakfast.

"Normal girlfriend indeed," he murmured satirically, proceeding to walk alongside her.

Mortified, Nandini frenziedly tried to think of an alternative topic, and seized on the one that was foremost on her mind. "Can I tell you one of the main things you have to do on Tuesday?"

"Not go out?" he guessed.

She nodded ruefully. And then, more revelations came pouring out of her in a gush. "You have to wear a suit that day. It's a gift from Uday grandpa. Sumer uncle will give it to you. And we have to go to your family temple early in the morning," she shared, almost shrinking as she spoke. "A special havan has been organised for you. And after we return to the palace, there are some other small plans..."

"Fine," he said, unruffled.

Having prepared herself to be blown into bits any minute, she was befuddled by the laid-back reaction. "Really? You're not angry?" she asked, shocked.

"I told you... I'll do whatever you want," he shrugged, and then carelessly added, "Just as you will do three things I want – whatever they might be. Right?"

Nandini couldn't reply because of a suddenly parched throat. She nodded clumsily and shifted sideways to plant some distance between them.

He pretended to look at the woods and grinned to himself. If there was a world record for a person who wouldn't learn crucial life lessons despite continued tutoring, she would be an all-time great.

The temple came into sight, offering great relief to Nandini. The two old men were busy. One of them was rearranging the garlands on the idol, and the other was sprinkling water on the ground in front of the altar. She stared at the scene ponderingly, mulling over the extraordinary incident again.

They'd left the shrine on a high, quietly sharing a sense of hilarity and a peculiar exhilaration. In the ensuing seconds, three unusual moments had made an impression on her, and she couldn't discuss any of them with Prithvi. The first was when she had observed him inconspicuously placing money in front of the Goddess. Then she had realised he had left his footwear outside before going into the shrine. She hadn't noticed him removing them. Her own slippers had come off automatically. It wasn't an action that required conscious thought on her behalf. But she'd felt glad to see him show a sign of respect, and had revisited an old doubt - did he believe...or didn't he...

The third moment had been infinitely more overwhelming. Just as they were leaving the shrine, with a flash of clarity that defied explanation, she had sensed something about Priyamvada. Was it presentiment? Or was it her heart telling her what she wanted to hear?

Regardless, she wasn't going to bring up the subjects with him, especially not the one regarding his mother. He would mock her or get angry. She could have risked that, but if she ended up giving him false hope...that would be unforgivable. But she could do whatever was within her capability to show support.

She looked at him. He was gazing at the temple.

"Can I go with you today? I won't get upset by anything," she assured earnestly, forgetting her previous anxieties and impulsively moving closer to him.

"No, and no," he retorted coolly.

"How can you refuse? You realise we might have only three more days to live?" Nandini asked impudently.

He looked at her with curiosity-laced amusement. As far he was concerned, the two old men had merely added a comical element to a very pleasant morning. But it was unusual for her to take the episode light-heartedly. Innumerable superstitions beliefs were crammed into her head. He could probably convince her in the next three minutes that the two old men were not human beings, but spirits of the forest. Given that background, her calmness was remarkable.

"You're not bothered by it?" Prithvi asked, intrigued.

"The blessing and curse apply to both of us," she explained wisely. "If the blessing works, good for us. If the curse proves true, we'll still be together forever," she pointed out cheerfully, trying to veil her shyness.

He paused to gaze at her meditatively, and then gratefully said, "An eternity of listening to you jabber about the joys of being a ghost. And no dirty pleasures to compensate for the harassment. Sounds like a dream come true."

She glowered at him, then turned her face away. The temple was coming closer. The old men continued with their work and didn't pay any attention to them.

Nandini slowed as they passed in front of the idol, but a big hand clutched her forearm and urged her to continue walking.

"Stop annoying her," he said irately.

She crossly hit his hand, and stalked ahead. Her footsteps didn't stop until they had walked around a familiar rock outcropping.

The palace had been visible through the gradually thinning woods, but now there was nothing at all between her tensed eyes and the intimidating edifice. Every inch of it was a taunting reminder of the lofty social barriers between them.

"I have nothing to do with this place."

She looked irresolutely at him.

"I'm as much a guest as you are. If you can stuff that truth in here," he suggested testily, jabbing her head lightly with an index finger, "you'll be fine."

She glanced at the palace, wishing it was so easy to change perspectives. But she could give it a shot.

And it was sweet of him to try, Nandini thought affectionately.

"You can hold my hand," she offered as they strolled unhurriedly.

He sarcastically asked, "Till you see another human being? No, thanks."

Feeling disquieted, she looked at him. He was annoyed as usual about her aloofness in public. But some things were ingrained in her nature. The daily quota of lies she was serving her family was debilitating enough. She couldn't endure more guilt.

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

A tug on his sleeve interrupted Prithvi's thoughts. He glanced at the girl treading beside him.

"Who are these women?" Nandini whispered, bursting with curiosity and interest.

He distractedly surveyed the area. Absorbed in deciding the best way to cram three days of investigation into two, he had not paid much heed to the surroundings. Now he saw that along with the guards, women in colourful traditional clothes and heavy silver jewellery were bowing and offering reverent salutations.

"Servants," he told her indifferently. "Some from nearby villages, I guess. Others might belong to the group imported from Uday Singh's main palace."

"Oh...they are very pretty," Nandini admired sincerely while they made their way to the dining hall for breakfast.

"That's on his recruitment brochure," Prithvi said seriously. "It goes like this - Only hot women need apply. Desired requirements – 36-24-26. Malnourished prudes please excuse," he recited, and then gave her a deprecatory once-over. "You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Shut up," she fumed, burning with an inordinately deep anger and embarrassment.

"The truth hurts eh," he said sympathetically, taking his phone out of the jeans' pocket to look at a message. "Don't take it to heart. You do have one or two redeeming qualities," he mollified.

As thunder growled in the skies outside and it started to rain, Nandini halted and clenched her fists.

The palace and its residents could go to hell. She was going to kick him in full view of his deferential staff. The decision had just formed when she heard a throaty female voice offer salutations to Prithvi in an oddly revolting style.

Frowning, she turned to see a voluptuous and beautiful woman. The lady, dressed in attractive traditional clothes and silver ornaments, was standing apart from the others. There was a suggestive smile on her glistening scarlet lips, and while her greeting had technically been the same as that extended by the others, the woman had somehow transformed it into a lewd invitation.

"Are you coming?"

Nandini spun. Prithvi was impatiently waiting for her under the archway that led to another hall. She sprinted to join him, then gestured discreetly and muttered, "Do you know that woman?"

Prithvi absent-mindedly glanced back for a second, and was amused on recognising a familiar figure leering lustfully at him. He looked at Nandini. This wasn't the first time he'd seen jealousy in her doe eyes. But until today, it had been a pathetic fledgling even at the height of its fury.

This time, though, he could catch a glimpse of the green-eyed monster in hitherto unseen glory. There was great potential in the creature. With sparse effort, he could inflate it a thousand times, make it sprout scaly wings, and let it loose to terrorize the world.

He reluctantly said, "Yeah, I do."

"How?" she asked sharply.

"Do you remember the time I'd gone to visit Uday Singh?" he asked, not looking her in the eye. "I'd met her at that time."

"And?" Nandini persisted.

"She's kind-hearted," he reminisced. "She came to my room at night and offered to take care of all my needs."

"What?" she cried out, appalled beyond belief. "What did you tell her? What did you do?

"What do you feel I should have done?" Prithvi asked, attentively gazing at her.

"You should have asked her to get lost," Nandini said furiously. "And – and you should have complained to Uday grandpa."

"I should have asked a bombshell like her to go away," he pondered slowly. "And I should have complained to my great-uncle that a hot woman wanted to sleep with me."

"Yes!" she nearly shouted.

"Then that is exactly what I did," Prithvi assured her dutifully.

Hot tears sprang to Nandini's eyes. An acrid brew of rage, fear and agony was charring her insides. He had to be teasing her. He had done it before, hadn't he? But it had not traumatised her like this in the past. She could no longer bear even his jokes on the matter.

"Why are you crying? I told you - I behaved as you expected me to," he insisted.

Nandini fiercely rubbed the tears away and swung to head to the dining hall.

He caught her hand. "You're going the wrong way. The dining hall is at the end of that corridor," he said helpfully.

She looked daggers at him and stormed off.

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

Kadambari stood up from the chair on hearing the sound of anklets. Those were Nandini's footsteps, which meant Prithvi was arriving. The two had apparently gone for a walk in the morning. It was beyond her why they would want to go out when they could wander for hours within the palace.

Nandini entered the room. Eyes lowered, the girl mutely occupied a chair near the middle of the set and laden table.

Kadambari squinted at Nandini petulantly. The splotchy face revealed that the girl had been crying. Was she made of cotton candy? She couldn't speak to Prithvi for two minutes without going to pieces, and she was hoping to spend a lifetime with him?

Judging it was time to dispense vital advice, Kadambari walked across the table. Nandini looked up with injured eyes, evoking an image of a fluffy kitten that had been tormented by a bigger creature.

Feeling needlessly distressed, Kadambari stroked her silken head. Then she firmly said, "Nandini, you have to show restraint with your emotions when you're in the palace. Your words and behaviour will become fodder for gossip amongst servants. They will pretend they don't notice anything, and then they will laugh at you behind your back. You must especially be careful not to cry in front of them. If they see you crying when you're with Prithvi, they will misunderstand him. I know he's not the reason for your tears, because he wouldn't do anything to hurt your feelings," she stated stalwartly. "But they don't know that. Do you want them to believe he is a bad person?"

More moisture glazed Nandini's eyes, but she shook her head.

"Good," Kadambari said benevolently. "What would you like to have for breakfast? Do you want to have tea or coffee first? Or juice?"

"Tea," Nandini mumbled.

Kadambari set to work, and in no time, a cup of tea was placed near the empty plate in front of Nandini.

"It's very hot. Drink slowly," Kadambari said. "I've asked the staff to buy three pairs of new shoes for you. I gave them an approximate size. I think it will be correct," she said confidently. "You can use one pair for going outside, one pair for walking in the palace, and one for your room. You can -"

The chubby woman stopped and gawked at Nandini. She had seen Prithvi smoothly drinking searing hot black coffee without pausing or waiting for it to cool down. Nandini preferred tea and she usually drank it slowly, savouring the sips. But she was currently gulping down the scalding beverage as if it was chilled juice.

Kadambari looked at the entrance as Prithvi entered the room. "You look so handsome in this coat," she exclaimed happily, scurrying to him.

"I look mind-blowing all the time," he rectified, highly offended.

"Yes, yes, you do," Kadambari crooned, prodding him to the seat at the head of the table.

But he slid out of her grasp and strode to the chair beside a rigid Nandini. The girl had taken two pieces of crisp toast from a tall stack and was spreading butter on one of them with a silver knife.

"Choti maa, I'll have toast and coffee. Coffee first," Prithvi said casually while sitting down.

Kadambari nodded and hurried to the coffee pot.

Nandini had just finished coating the toast when it was snatched from her hands. Her livid hiss didn't go unheard.

Kadambari looked askance at both of them. Prithvi was devouring a piece of toast and gratefully telling Nandini, "You needn't have."

Ignoring his gracious words, the girl grabbed the other piece on her plate and ferociously began applying butter on it.

That was when Kadambari noticed the ornaments on her wrists. "Nandini, I'd kept matching bangles along with this dress," she said reproachfully, walking to Prithvi with a cup of coffee. "Why are you wearing these silver ones?"

Nandini fidgeted. The question had put her on the spot in front of the worst possible witness. Horribly aware of his laughing scrutiny, she awkwardly mumbled, "I like them."

"Why? They're ugly," Prithvi critiqued innocently, taking the cup to his lips. "Choti maa went to so much trouble. You could show more respect for her efforts," he reproved in between gulps.

Nandini wrathfully fantasised about emptying the whole pot of coffee on his head.

Meanwhile, Kadambari beamed at him and turned her attention to the stack of toast for preparing his breakfast.

The second piece of toast was stolen from Nandini's hands. "Give it back," she yelled as he kept the cup on the table and stood up.

Swallowing a bite, he apologetically said, "Oh I'm sorry. I thought you were holding that for me because I'm running late. Choti maa, don't bother with that. I have to leave," he said, walking around the dismayed woman with three-fourth of the toast in hand.

"Okay. But be sure to eat a heavy lunch. Nandini, you can have more from this plate," Kadambari said stiffly, revolted by the girl's selfish behaviour.

"It's not her fault, Choti maa. She's basically an insensitive person," Prithvi defended, and then grinned wickedly at Nandini from behind Kadambari before sauntering out of the room.

Convinced she was about to explode, Nandini focussed on reining in her temper and not jumping up to attack his back with knives and forks.

Prithvi had been gone for about five minutes when Sumer Singh forayed into the room. He looked at the two females in the room. Looking absolutely miserable and uncomfortable, Nandini was having her breakfast – two rotis with spicy potato curry. The cook was standing across the table and glaring at her like a malevolent spirit.

He cleared his throat as he walked to a chair near the poor girl.

Nandini looked up at him. A little cheer returned to her face, and she gave him a wan smile.

"Nandini, after breakfast, we will go on a tour of this palace," Sumer Singh said warmly, keeping his phone near the plate and preparing his bowl of cornflakes. "His Highness Uday Singh will accompany us. He wants to tell you about the palace. Then we have to sit with the manager and discuss- " he halted to look at the ringing phone.

His face lost colour.

Sumer Singh turned an upset face towards Nandini. "It's His Hi – it's Indrajit. Why is he calling?" he fretted.

Nandini sat still as an ice-cold sensation spread through her body.

Kadambari's censorious mask lifted and she gasped loudly. She had heard of the man. Prithvi's step-brother... a heartless monster who had tried to kill Prithvi many times. People said he wasn't right in the head.

Sumer Singh felt conflicted between an inherent impulse to heed the summons of the family, and dread regarding the conversation that would follow if he did answer the phone. At any other time, he would have not have waited in limbo. But the call was an ill-omen at this joyful time.

"Could you place the phone here and put the call on speaker, uncle?" Nandini asked politely, tapping the area in between their plates. Sumer Singh complied unquestioningly.

Kadambari looked perplexedly at Nandini. Although expressed respectfully, it hadn't been a request. And the girl's voice had sounded strange. Then Sumer Singh pressed the relevant button to answer the phone and muttered a shaky greeting. A placid male voice came down the line, and the unnaturally flat tenor frightened her into concentration.

"I hear you're going to celebrate my dear brother's birthday," Indrajit drawled. "Tell my great-uncle to make it as grand as he can, Sumer Singh. Who knows if Prithvi will live for another year. And I hear his search for that whore of his mother is going on in full swing. Isn't it destroying him on the inside...the thoughts about the ordeals she must have faced," he murmured with a perverse relish. "The poverty... the starvation...the countless men who must have enjoyed her body and thrown money at her. But do you know what makes me happiest? The thought that he will find her....giving me the chance to kill both on the same day. Tell him if he finds her, I'll be amongst the first visitors, and I will -"

"Is there any humanity in you?" Nandini asked quietly. "Aren't you his older brother? You should be looking out for him and helping him. If you cannot do that, it's okay. Can't you avoid hurting him at least? I don't know what you've endured to become like this. It must have been painful. But stop targeting Prithvi for your anger against life."

There was an ominous silence.

Then Indrajit sharply asked, "Who is this?"

"Nandini. The girl who called you a bastard in front of many people. Remember?" she enquired.

A strangled noise was the first answer, followed by an unsteady rasp of, "You - "

"That day, you would have left him there to die and not lost a minute's peace over it. But he doesn't hold it against you. He doesn't think you did anything wrong when you walked away," she said bitterly, speaking words guided by instinct than knowledge. "He expects you to behave heartlessly because you hate him. But Prithvi... whenever he has spoken of you, I've heard anger and contempt in his voice. But no hate. Despite everything you've done, he doesn't hate you. Think about that."

Sumer Singh overcame his shock and frantically gestured to her to stop talking.

Undaunted, Nandini went on, "And think about your father. I don't know much about him. But I'm certain he wouldn't want you to constantly circle Prithvi like a vulture, waiting to see the first signs of a wound so you can tear it open and feed on his pain. Now listen to me carefully. You are welcome to visit Prithvi as an older brother. If you turn up with any rotten intentions, he might forgive you and let you live. I won't," she promised harshly, and then jabbed a button on the phone to cut the call.

She sat immobile for half a minute, then took a deep breath and looked at Sumer Singh. "Don't worry about him, uncle," she comforted.

Terror-stricken, Sumer Singh said, "Nandini, he is not normal. When he gets angry, he doesn't stop at anything to get his revenge. You don't know him."

Kadambari, who had been gaping at Nandini in stupefaction, nodded unconsciously in agreement with Sumer Singh.

"No, uncle," Nandini replied serenely. "He doesn't know me."

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

Indrajit stared at the phone in his hand. The instrument was shaking. Then he realised it was his hand that was trembling. And more humiliatingly, his eyes were watering.

He hurled the phone. It hit a wall and fell noiselessly on the carpeted floor.

The bitch had shown the audacity of speaking of his father. When he would eventually witness her death, he would ensure her tongue was severed before she was killed.

Standing up on wobbly legs, Indrajit walked to the beautiful, hi-tech safe that was built into the wall. He managed to open it on the third attempt after fumbling with the buttons two times. The safe was occupied by many framed photographs of the same two smiling people – a thin, unattractive little boy, and a very handsome man.

Indrajit chose one. Staring at the image, he walked back to the chair behind the desk. In this photo, his father was sitting on an ornate chair, and he was standing beside it.

How happy and proud he had felt on the day the photograph was clicked. But the excitement had been diluted by the dread of returning to the palace and enduring the presence of his mother and her family.

Sometimes, he felt he had spent his entire childhood as a contestant on quiz show. And he had not known the answers to the questions that had been thrown at him continuously in a never-ending cycle.

Why aren't you like other children? Why don't you have friends? Why are you so quiet? Why can't you say what's on your mind? Why aren't you doing well in class? Why don't you participate in sports?

And the most oft-repeated one - What is wrong with you?

Only one person hadn't asked him any of those demeaning questions. Only one person had showered him with unconditional love, and cherished him for who he was, not who he ought to be. No wonder he had lived for the hours that he'd spent with his father.

Neither the law nor a throng of bodyguards had stopped Adityaraj from meeting his son regularly. But his father's resolve had not survived the wiles of a depraved, cunning woman, and also perhaps, the prospect of having a normal child.

Priyamvada had destroyed his life. She had snatched his father away, and then she had produced a son to usurp his position. And that son had stolen everything that was left.

Indrajit placed the photo on the desk and looked at it.

Until his teens, he'd stared at the image in the mirror each day to find some likeness to his father. However, in that aspect too, Prithvi had eventually had the last laugh. With every passing year, his resemblance to their father had grown. And now, by and large, he was a younger version of Adityaraj. And the similarities had not ended there. People said he had inherited their father's brilliance and manifold talents. Some even said he was far ahead of Adityaraj in all respects.

So in the end, his father had bequeathed everything that was precious to Prithvi, sparing nothing of true value for his older son.

Indrajit lifted the photograph and held it tightly to his chest.

He remembered every detail of the moment he had heard of Prithvi's birth. How earnestly he had prayed day and night for the child's death. But it was his father who had lost his life.

On growing up, he had tried to rectify destiny's mistake several times. Fate had laughed in his face on every occasion.

But life was helping him out at last.

He hoped Priyamvada was alive. He sincerely wished Prithvi would find her soon.

When that happened, he would pay the happy family a visit. It would be the most pleasurable day of his life.

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

Seated on the large swing in the balcony of her room, Nandini gazed at the pretty vista that lay before her. Night had fallen, and the lights in the villages gave them a picturesque look. The lake and the woods were shrouded in darkness. A fire appeared to be burning on top of the hill opposite the palace.

Uday Singh had confirmed it was the very temple they would be visiting on Tuesday.

The shrine was dedicated to Goddess Aadya, the patron deity of the family. The palace had actually been named after Her, and it had been a perfect fit because of its historical importance. As a strong, cool breeze played with her hair, Nandini vaguely recollected his wistful contemplations as they had looked at the hilltop from a terrace on the first floor.

"It was tradition for us to visit the temple on our birthdays and other special days. No major decision would be taken without Her blessings. I have never had faith in God, and I used to find the rites and rituals really tedious. It took me years to understand that the rituals might be meaningless, but these traditions are important. They are comforting and humbling. You realise you're just another link in a great chain. And you feel reassured that these traditions will endure in the family, generation after generation. And through them, some part of you will live forever."

The words had made an impression because they had been shared at the end of the tour, when a bit of normalcy had started returning to her mind. Prior to that, he had spoken wonderfully of his memories of the palace and the legends associated with it. However, precious little had penetrated the fog in her mind.

Nandini guiltily recalled how she had smiled, laughed and nodded like an automaton during the tour. She'd wanted to pay attention, knowing it was a matter of great fortune to be granted such a rare opportunity to learn about the beautiful palace, and that too from a member of the family no less. But it had been too tough. Then an informal meeting with the palace manager had followed, where lighting and other arrangements had been discussed. They had asked for her opinion on every issue, as if her endorsement equalled Prithvi's approval.

Had she said anything sensible, Nandini pondered while massaging her right hand. Later, Uday Singh had retired to his quarters. She had eaten lunch with Sumer Singh, and then he had asked a female staff member to escort her back to the room for rest.

In those agitated hours, she had discovered that her room did enjoy the view of the valley. And three pretty, flat-heeled sandals – in black, white, and a neutral shade - had been waiting in the room.

In the evening, she'd been part of one more meeting, where the tiniest aspects of Tuesday's plans had been reviewed. There again, she had toiled to focus on the questions and had done her best to give sane replies.

An entire day had been wasted because of the stupor triggered by Indrajit's call.

It had caught her unawares, provoking long-suppressed memories and emotions to rear their heads without warning.

A white-faced Prithvi lurching into her...warm blood gushing out of his chest and soaking through the material of her dress, drenching her skin. Indrajit's pasty face and dead eyes. The thin man turning his back on her, unmoved by her pleas. Prithvi's unconscious body being wheeled into the operation theatre. A kind voice urging her to a bathroom to clean up. Standing under an open shower and torpidly watching a veneer of blood being washed from her breasts, hands and stomach. Red water pooling at her feet and then flowing towards the drain. And then waiting outside the theatre to know if she had to go on breathing or if she could stop...

Nandini shivered uncontrollably. The events of that fateful evening had killed something within her, and one of the fatalities had been her fear of Indrajit.

But she had not really tackled the overriding pain till date, and she hadn't confronted Prithvi either. His anger too must be alive and kicking.

The showdown had been postponed, not cancelled. It would happen someday.

With them, buried emotions always had a way of clawing back to the surface, regardless of the destruction that would be caused in the aftermath.

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

Kadambari closed the door of the bathroom, and walked back to the sitting area. Where was the girl?

The main door had been left open. Had Nandini gone out? But where could she go? The girl wouldn't be able to navigate her way through the palace on her sharpest day. And today, she had appeared almost disorientated after the catastrophic exchange with Indrajit.

Kadambari took a seat on the couch, sighing in frustration. Each time she put Nandini into a mould, the girl broke it open and revealed a new side to herself. The aspect she had shown today was superficially impressive. But in truth, it was foolish and reckless, Kadambari decided. It was well and good to be scary on the phone. But if Indrajit came in person, the girl would collapse in fear.

While trying to decide if she should call someone to help locate Nandini, Kadambari's eyes fell on the door to the balcony. Deriding herself for overlooking a simple possibility, she walked to the door and knocked hard. The light switch near the doorframe was in the off position. She turned it on, grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Nandini had risen from the swing and was fumbling to ascertain that the dupatta was draped properly.

The girl was dressed in one of her cotton salwar-kurtas instead of a nightdress. It was an intelligent decision. The drab nightdresses were uglier than her typical daywear.

"Dinner is ready. You should have it while it's hot," Kadambari said.

Nandini nodded, then asked, "Has Prithvi returned, aunty?"

"I've told one of the guards to alert me when he arrives. He hasn't done so yet," Kadambari replied formally, and then guardedly asked, "Why were you sitting in darkness?"

Nandini fidgeted. She had a dim idea that Kadambari had treated her with a mix of censure and nervousness post the conversation with Indrajit. If she tried to explain that she found the darkness comforting, it would convince Kadambari that she was mentally unhinged.

"I was looking at the light on that hill," she mumbled. "It is the temple we'll be visiting on Tuesday."

"Oh...I will be staying back," Kadambari said primly.

"You won't be coming with us? Why?" Nandini asked, baffled.

"It's the temple of their family's patron deity," Kadambari explained snootily.

The answer mystified Nandini until she remembered the history of mutual hatred. Mindful of treading on fragile sentiments, she carefully said, "I understand...but isn't it true that the same power exists everywhere on earth? And you hold the place of a mother in Prithvi's life. So it would be -

"I might hold the place of his mother...but I'm not," Kadambari said in an abruptly thick voice. "I'm just a barren -"

"You must stop calling yourself that," Nandini said gently. "A human being is barren only if they're incapable of love and kindness. You are Prithvi's mother. And - and we're going to the temple to seek blessings for his happiness and wellbeing. No one will pray for him as sincerely as you."

Kadambari looked at her doggedly. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen," Nandini said warily.

"Then act your age and stop dispensing wisdom like a ninety year old," Kadambari grumbled, turning on her heel to exit the balcony

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

Sumer Singh paused in the midst of pouring out a glass of sweet lime juice. Prithvi had pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair with eyes closed.

Hovering in the background, Kadambari looked dejectedly at the plate of chole bature. The food was virtually untouched. She didn't have the nerve to remonstrate with him as he was patently in a terrible frame of mind. Unable to endure his state, she disconsolately walked out of the room.

"You look tired, my lord," Sumer Singh ventured. "Wouldn't it be wise to relax at home for today?"

"So I can be in a good mood tomorrow?" Prithvi enquired caustically, eyes shut. "Rest won't make that happen. Brain and heart transplants might."

Sumer Singh felt disheartened at the prospect of what lay in store. Nandini had her work cut out. He looked at the blazer on the adjacent seat, and hoped she would succeed today as well. The cook had dispatched a maid to guide her to this room. Once Nandini was here, everything would be okay.

"The chief of morons is waiting for you at the door," Prithvi notified offhandedly.

Sumer Singh looked towards the entrance. The frightened head of the palace's manager was peering around the doorframe. The man had been petrified of Prithvi since the first day. Disregarding repeated warnings, he had enthusiastically approached the prince and fawningly enquired if there were any specific requirements related to the birthday decorations, presumably hoping to make a good impression. Prithvi had responded with a nonchalant suggestion that the guards could slice the manager open and use his intestines to adorn the gates of the palace.

"Ask him to stop making those dumb throat sounds and take him elsewhere to talk," Prithvi added placidly. "I don't want to see his idiotic face when I walk out of the room."

He heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and then there was silence. Within minutes, however, the clanging of jewellery reached his ears. The strong stench of cheap perfume filled the air, and in seconds, its cause was way too close.

He opened his eyes. Enormous breasts, bursting out of a tight blouse, were thrust into his face. The painted face above them was smiling smugly at him.

Prithvi courteously asked, "Are you trying to breastfeed me?"

The coldness in the gaze and question took Bindiya aback momentarily, then she giggled. "No, your highness."

"Then get your udders out of my face," he said cuttingly. "There are stray dogs outside the grounds. Try petting them and bribing them with food. They might take care of you. Stick to their breed and the servant quarters."

Bindiya gawked at him vacantly, then laughed coyly. "You're very naughty, your highness," she tittered and flounced away.

The woman's empty-headed response wasn't surprising. The raging fire of her libido must have melted her brain long ago.

Prithvi rose to leave the hall. It would have been better if he had stuck to his initial intention of leaving early in the morning. But a nagging wish to see Nandini had derailed the plan.

He couldn't understand it. She was one of the causes for his foul temper. The anger that had flared last night on seeing the garishly illuminated palace and ornate arrangements on the grounds had not abated yet. If they met, the encounter would indisputably result in nastiness.

Yet, something in him was adamantly demanding a glimpse of her.

The blazer caught his eye. He vacillated for a moment, then strode to the chair and picked it up.

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

Nandini moved faster on recognising the décor. The dining hall was nearby. The genial lady accompanying her increased her pace in tandem.

The woman halted when they were about twenty feet away from the spacious passageway that led to the destination. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but I cannot accompany you further," she said. "Kadambari ma'am has forbidden us from being seen in this vicinity when the prince is in the hall."

Nandini smiled wryly. "Please don't apologise. Thank you for taking the trouble of coming to my room. And please call me Nandini," she requested.

"Yes, ma'am," was the polite response.

Accepting defeat, Nandini smiled and walked to the corridor, mechanically adjusting the elegant chiffon dupatta and running a hand the soft material of the pale yellow churidaar kurta with lovely silver embroidery. She had accidentally overslept, and on waking up, had seen the dress, along with a matching necklace and earrings, on the other side of the bed. Hot tea and the usual plate of delicious biscuits had also been waiting for her in the sitting room. When she met Kadambari, she would thank her for taking so much care.

But first, she wanted to see Prithvi. The heaviness in her chest wouldn't subside until her eyes were reassured of his wellbeing.

She paused as someone came out of the corridor.

It was the same strange lady she had seen yesterday. The maid from Uday Singh's main palace whose anecdote Prithvi had used to roast her heart to a crisp.

What had she been doing in the dining hall...

The woman didn't notice her and sauntered in another direction, swaying her hips aggressively.

Nandini waited motionless, endeavouring to calm down before she met Prithvi. She didn't want to start a fight, not after having longed to see him since yesterday morning.

She resumed the walk, and then halted on reaching the entrance to the corridor.

Prithvi was walking down the passageway. He had worn the blazer without being pestered this time. The joy of seeing him, however, was dampened by distress at the strain on his countenance. The colourless and exhausted face indicated a sleepless night, and the grimness of the features warned against questions or conversation. Then anger leapt up in his gaze.

Why was he annoyed with her, Nandini thought disconcertedly. Whatever the cause, it was another reason to avoid raising offensive topics.

He covered the distance between them, and then walked past her.

The insensitive behaviour broke Nandini's resolve to contain her anguished fury. She abruptly asked, "What was that woman doing in the dining hall?"

He stopped and turned to look at her unemotionally. "She wanted an encore. Got to admit... it was refreshing to see the honesty. Unlike certain hypocrites, the woman doesn't claim to love me and then pretend she will get defiled if our hands touch."

Nandini flinched at the abrasive response. She knew he was being unkind on purpose, but the knowledge didn't stop tears from welling up.

"Why did you want me to stay? Were you missing me or the enjoyment of hurting me?" she asked in an unsteady voice.

"Trust me, I regret it. If you'd left according to your original plan, I wouldn't have had to see the eyesores on the grounds and the lighting that makes the building look like the sun's chamber pot," he said brutally. "But better late than never. You can leave today. No one will stop you."

Then he was gone. On hearing a muted noise, Nandini brushed her face dry and swivelled.

Kadambari was standing some feet away, and from the expression on her face, Nandini realised two things – the elderly lady had heard the conversation, and she was not on her side.

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

Nandini flipped channels without interest, frequently looking at her phone to verify she hadn't missed hearing it beep. Sumer Singh had promised to send a message on her phone as soon as he learnt of Prithvi's arrival.

She looked at the clock. Sixteen minutes past eleven.

The day had been gruelling. And it hadn't helped that Kadambari's opinion about her had deteriorated further. And who could blame her? She had witnessed their tussles on three consecutive days. But Kadambari couldn't despise her as much as she despised herself.

Nandini switched off the television and wearily leaned back against a stack of pillows. In spite of Prithvi's behaviour in the morning, she wasn't furious with him. Acutely saddened, but not furious. It was difficult to surmise if the patience was the lingering side-effect of Indrajit's call or if she had mislaid tonnes of her self-respect.

The phone finally beeped. She grabbed the instrument and looked at the message. Though it was from Sumer Singh, it wasn't precisely what she had expected.

Nandini, if you're awake, please come to the door.

She got down from the plump mattress, rushed to snatch up a maroon cotton dupatta from the sofa in the adjoining room and draped it quickly, and then dashed to open the door.

Sumer Singh and Kadambari were waiting outside.

Fearful, Nandini urgently asked, "Is everything okay? Prithvi is -"

"He's alright, Nandini," Sumer Singh said swiftly. "He has returned. And going by what the guards said, his mood hasn't really improved," he adjoined meekly.

"You want me to talk to him, uncle?" Nandini asked at once, aware that the problem was a big one. If Prithvi continued to be in an antagonistic mood tomorrow, he would turn the day into a special kind of hell for everyone who would come into contact with him.

"Yes, please. If I could just know that he is okay and hasn't changed his mind about tomorrow, it would be -"

"I don't understand why he is being forced to celebrate the day," Kadambari interrupted curtly. "You have no right to impose your wishes on him. Nandini, you heard Prithvi in the morning. He dislikes everything that has been done so far. I think we should -"

"If you don't want to know whether Prithvi is okay, please go back to your room," Sumer Singh replied austerely.

Kadambari grimaced at him but kept silent.

Satisfied, Sumer Singh turned to Nandini. "Don't give an ear to her nonsense. Will you come with me and talk to him?"

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

With Sumer Singh leading the way, they made their way up short staircases, and walked through stone corridors, striking halls and lovely foyers in the unobtrusive yellow light that illuminated the palace after dark. Nandini walked alongside Kadambari, who was huffing slightly but maintaining a brisk pace.

Nandini tried to keep track of the route, but it would have been challenging even if she wasn't exhausted.

Then they were walking through what appeared to be the most beautiful maze in the world. This section of the second floor was undoubtedly the most stunning part of the palace, Nandini thought distantly. The luxury element was present in the furnishings, but the overall impression was that of a tasteful and beautiful simplicity.

A tang of tension permeated the air.

She didn't need to ask Sumer Singh to know they were approaching Prithvi's suite. Jitters ran through her. As if hurt wasn't sufficient, she had to contend with nervousness too, Nandini thought jadedly.

Sumer Singh stopped as they reached a huge, splendid foyer. Diagonally opposite to them was a magnificent archway. Beyond it, she could see a beautifully designed space with dark couches, and at the other end, gorgeously carved wooden doors with golden artwork.

"That's his room," Sumer Singh told her anxiously.

"I'll go and talk to him. Both of you please stay here," Nandini requested.

Sumer Singh agreed, and she set out in the direction of the wooden doors.

Kadambari watched in disbelief as Sumer Singh moved to stand in a corner from which the archway couldn't be seen. She reluctantly took the cue, shuffled to a neighbouring spot, and glared at Sumer Singh. He pretended to have great affection for Nandini, but he was letting her face Prithvi alone and safely waiting in the wings, as though it was a foregone conclusion that everything would be fine.

How exactly was the girl going to lighten Prithvi's spirits? Any time both of them spoke, Nandini ended up looking frightened or teary. And Prithvi was actually miffed with the girl today. She had happened to hear the last bit of their interaction, and the deliberate cruelty of his words had astonished her at first. Then after a short contemplation, she had decided his annoyance had been justified. The fault lay at Nandini's doors, not his.

Nevertheless, she was concerned about the girl. She had witnessed Prithvi's bad moods from afar on many occasions during the past weeks. Rajyavardhan Singh's infamous temper was a measly ripple in the water compared to the thundery storm of his grandson's rage.

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

Nandini ignored the small bell by the side of the entrance and knocked hard on the wooden doors.

She had to wait for only some seconds before the doors were thrown open.

The suite behind Prithvi was lit well, making it easy for her to see the aggression on his features. He had opened the door with the intention of ripping apart whoever had shown the temerity to disturb him.

Her visit seemed to have thrown him. But just for an instant.

"What?" he asked tersely.

"If you want to cancel the plans for tomorrow, you can tell me," she answered coolly. "It will be done. You'll be able to spend the day as you see fit."

Tiny furrows appeared on Prithvi's forehead. "What?" he asked again, more confused than annoyed this time.

"Sumer uncle and Choti maa are stressed because you've been in a rotten mood since morning. They love you so much that they would prefer to cancel the plans if that is what you want," she said tartly. "So you can tell me your decision now itself and avoid spoiling everyone else's day tomorrow."

"Everyone else. Naturally," he commented derisively. "You're worried about everyone except me."

Nandini battled to control a violent impulse. "Sumer uncle, Choti maa, Uday grandpa... Do you have any idea how much they love you? Their days revolve about you. They're always thinking about your happiness, your comfort, and your wishes. Is it too much to ask for you to take one day of your life and do things that make them happy?" she asked exasperatedly.

"You left out yourself from the list of people whose days revolve around me," he frowned.

That was his takeaway from her lecture?

"My whole life is about you," she hissed.

"As it should be," Prithvi remarked complacently. Then he unpredictably asked, "Where are they?"

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

The sound of anklets was growing louder. Sumer Singh stopped pacing, and Kadambari gave a rest to the crumpled pallu between her fingers.

As the young man strode around the wall, their breathing paused.

Maintaining a respectable distance from Prithvi, Nandini waited on tenterhooks.

She watched him pause to gaze soberly at both of them. Then his taut features softened. He smiled and moved to hug Sumer Singh and Kadambari in quick succession.

The change in the demeanour of the middle-aged duo was instantaneous. Their smiles glowed with joy and relief, and Kadambari patted his face while enquiring if he had eaten dinner.

"The restaurant ran out of food," Prithvi said solemnly, and then looked at Sumer Singh. "What time do we have to leave tomorrow?"

"By eight o clock. I'll bring the suit to your room by seven," Sumer Singh added watchfully, re-testing the waters.

"Alright," Prithvi consented.

Nandini watched the three people in amazement. Whatever she had expected....it hadn't been this...

Kadambari glanced at Nandini with a new softness in her gaze and nodded.

"Choti maa, you go ahead. I'll drop Nandini to her room in a short while," Prithvi said nonchalantly, intercepting and correctly interpreting the summons. "She wants to talk to me in private. I told her to wait till tomorrow, but she won't listen," he added smoothly without an ounce of hesitation.

The blatant lie stunned Nandini out of the daze. "I don't want – I didn't ask – I ..." she stopped spluttering and flushed. The three pairs of eyes on her face –guiltless, guarded, and judgmental - were evoking awful memories. She was back on stage, standing under a harsh spotlight, and messing up her part.

"Yes, I need to talk to him," she mumbled.

Sumer Singh suspiciously gazed at Prithvi but didn't speak.

"Alright, but don't take too long," Kadambari reproachfully told Nandini. The girl could put on an act when required. But she felt inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the girl did have something important to talk about...

"Baba, drop Choti maa to her room."

"I know the way back. I don't need the guidance or protection of a scrawny guard," Kadambari scoffed.

Sumer Singh tightly said, "You heard her, Prithvi."

"If another word comes out of either of you, I will get you married to each other," Prithvi said peacefully.

Nandini gasped at the outrageous threat, while the would-be victims stared at him with a horror that indicated they had been sentenced to execution by the guillotine.

When Sumer Singh started to express his indignation, Prithvi warned, "Tomorrow. I can make it happen tomorrow."

"Don't bully them," Nandini remonstrated hotly, surging ahead.

He looked at her. "You want to conduct the marriage?"

The potential bride and groom remained frozen for another second. Then in the blink of an eye, they were racing out of the foyer.

Nandini looked angrily at Prithvi. He had crossed a line, displaying no respect for their age or position in his life. And she could tell he had actually enjoyed scaring them. But there was no point in fighting about it. She had to address a pressing issue.

"Why did you put it on my head? Do you know what the time is? What will they think about me?" she asked hostilely. "I don't want to talk to you about anything. I'm going with them."

She swivelled sharply, but a hand roughly coiled around her waist. Her back collided against a hard frame. His other hand clamped across her mouth, stifling an involuntary cry. He lithely turned on the spot, so that they were facing the opposite side. She struggled forcefully, and as usual, it felt akin to fighting iron manacles.

The imprisonment went on for many more moments. Then his arms dropped, freeing her.

Beside herself with fury, she whirled around and geared up to vent the full extent of her ire.

"Don't you want to find them before they run out of sight?" he asked concernedly, startling her. "I don't think you can find your room by yourself. The layout is confusing. You could try going down the first flight of stairs you find. You might see some of the guards. I'm sure not one of them is drunk and looking for entertainment at this time of the night. They'll escort you."

Aghast at the situation, Nandini spun and darted in the direction the other two people had gone. The floor was spread out like a glistening web. She frenziedly attempted to recollect the details of the trip. There were various ways out of the foyer. Had they arrived from the left side? The archway in the centre looked familiar. Had they passed under it?

She turned to glower at him. He was striding indolently in the other direction. At least he wasn't returning to his room....

"Wait!" she squeaked, scampering past priceless sculptures to catch up with him.

He halted and glanced at her.

"Take me to my room," she begged, ignoring the screeches of her self-esteem.

"No," he refused, and carried on with his stroll.

She glared at his back. Then unhappily accepting the absence of any other choice, she stalked ahead to walk by his side.

In the bristly silence that followed, Nandini looked around tensely. They were walking along the periphery of a fabulously decorated hall. There were imposing portraits of the erstwhile noble residents on the walls. According to a large antique clock, the time was thirty three minutes past eleven.

"Where are we going?" she asked unsurely.

"I'll let you know if I find out," Prithvi retorted. He'd not wanted to see anyone on his return after another frustrating and depressing day. Then she had landed up at the door, and he had not wanted her to leave. Despite his continued irritation at the nauseatingly flamboyant arrangements, he needed her presence for some time. Not her sympathy or love or understanding. Just her presence.

Feeling uneasy, she glanced at him as they entered a short network of corridors.

How long did he intend to wander? She couldn't forget the look on Kadambari's face. The older woman might go to her room after a while to check if she had returned. And if she hadn't...what would Kadambari think of her...

The absolute worst part, however, was that she was getting worried about him instead of harbouring resentment. Solely because of the tinge of desolation in his attitude. He'd reduced her to tears twice in two days. But he simply had to look sad, and it was the cue for her to melt.

A day would come...a day when she wouldn't forgive, Nandini fantasised as they walked down a marble staircase. She would hold on to the hurt. He would have to concede defeat and put aside his anger and beg for forgiveness and hold her and tell her she was the most precious person in his life and he would do anything if she said she loved him.

Although the glorious dreams weren't destined to come true, they did cheer her up to some extent...

Nandini gazed around as they entered a vaulted passageway, which was open on one side. Several meters ahead, the corridor branched into two. The portion that went left was concealed by the wall that ran along the length of the passageway. In the hallway that ran to the right, she could see massive metal doors, covered with elaborate carvings, in the centre of the corridor. A peek over the balustrade showed her a green courtyard with a fountain in the centre and aesthetically placed stone benches. It was raining lightly.

She glanced at him. The bleakness in his profile was heartbreaking...

She stopped in her tracks, causing him to turn.

"What happened yesterday? What did you find out?" Nandini asked tentatively.

He looked away and strolled to the railing. Keeping his hands on the marble balustrade, he gazed at the fountain downstairs.

"I've been meeting social workers," Prithvi said without emotion. "One of them remembered maa. He'd rescued her from being trafficked, and based on what he said, it must have happened immediately after she left the palace." And if she had fallen into trouble so soon after her disappearance, how many other – and what kind of difficulties must she have faced in the subsequent years...

Nandini dithered for a moment. It was a risk, but she had to take it.

She proceeded to stand by his side and hesitantly said, "I need to tell you something. But you have to promise you won't laugh at me."

Bemused, Prithvi glanced at her and nodded slightly.

"Yesterday, when we were leaving the temple," she said awkwardly, "I got a very strong feeling that - that your mother has been safe all these years. And you will find her soon."

His eyes were transfixed on her face. "You really think..."

Greatly relieved by his reaction, Nandini eagerly said, "I do. I really do."

Irrationally, he instantly felt freed from an oppressive load.

His cynicism was as powerful as her faith. But it didn't matter this time. She implicitly believed what she saying. And to his shock, he realised he was able to put his faith in that belief.

"Come on. I'll take you back to your room," Prithvi murmured.

"Wait," Nandini said impulsively. He didn't want any more discussions, and the reluctance was understandable. She wanted to return to the room herself as she was about to fall asleep on her feet. But midnight was close, and the idea of being the first one to wish him was very appealing.

"Can we go to that room?" she asked brightly, pointing at the metal doors. "I'd like to have a look at it."

He looked at her grimly. "If you so much as hum the birthday song, I'll throw you off this floor."

Nandini chuckled sheepishly as they walked to the room. Would there be a clock in the room? If not, she would wait for some minutes and then wish him. 

Then out of the blue, a fearsome thought struck her.

"What kind of a room is it?" she asked, trying to sound relaxed.

"There's no bed in it," Prithvi certified snidely. "Just a chair. That's not my style."

"That's not why I asked," she lied fiercely, red-faced.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered mockingly. It was odd they were going to that particular hall. He'd been drawn to it while exploring the palace on the first day, and had experienced a bewildering – and ridiculous - sense of homecoming when he'd stepped inside.

As they neared the room, Nandini realised the doors were made of solid silver and were decorated with intricate carvings of gods. The work was profoundly beautiful.

They paused in the front of the room.

Prithvi pushed at the doors. They yielded slavishly to his touch and swung open. It was dark inside. He entered the room, and within seconds, it was flooded with light.

Open-mouthed with wonder, Nandini stepped into the hall. The doors mechanically swung close behind her.

She recalled seeing bigger and grander chambers during yesterday's tour. But this was the loveliest room she had seen until now.

Straight ahead, at the other end of the room, was Prithvi's idea of a chair - a golden throne upholstered in red velvet fabric. A mesmerising painting of the Vishwarupa form of Lord Vishnu dominated the wall behind it. Similarly colourful and beauteous murals – depicting images from the epics - covered the other walls as well. The spellbinding paintings were glowing in the golden light of two large chandeliers. Velvet draped curtains of dark red, royal blue and pale gold added to the feeling of opulence. Sculpted stone columns ran in parallel lines from the throne to the entrance. There was a smaller silver door in the centre of the wall on the left, and a huge, closed window in the wall on the right.

If the palace was a living and breathing edifice, its beating heart was in this room.

"Done staring?"

Nandini turned at the impatient question. He was waiting near the shut doors, emitting restlessness.

"I need more time to decide if we could have the cake cutting ceremony in this room," she teased.

The scowl on his face answered her.

With an exaggerated sigh, she walked to him and clasped his forearm. Then she turned while keeping his hand on her shoulder, and jauntily strived to pull him forward. There was negligible energy left in her. Nonetheless, she would bring an honest-to-goodness smile on his face if it was the last thing she did.

"What the hell are you doing?" Prithvi asked tetchily, not budging an inch from the spot.

Giving up, she swivelled to face him. "I want you to sit on the throne."

"Why?" he asked, brows knit.

"I need to argue my case," she grinned. "I deserve a chance to explain why it is important to celebrate your birthday. You have to listen to my arguments and give your verdict."

He considered her, the suspicion of a smile glimmering on his visage. Then he removed her hand from his, and strode to the glittering throne. She delightedly hastened in his footsteps, and halted about five feet from the throne.

Prithvi turned and irately hunkered down with the same ceremony and interest he'd accorded the plain wooden furniture in Ayodhya. He leaned back in his typical nonchalant style, with the ankle of a foot resting on the knee of the other, and hands on the armrest.

Nandini fleetingly forgot everything she was going to say.

In the plain white kurta and old jeans, he could have looked out-of-place on the throne. Instead, the beauty of the ceremonial seat was pathetically subjugated by the chiselled perfection of his features and powerful physique. The stubble on the jaw merely served to heighten the impression of harsh splendour. It was as though she had witnessed a crucial and huge piece of a puzzle fit into its rightful place. Her fragile attempts to mentally disassociate him from the reality of his royal heritage were laughable in retrospect. He belonged to this world of majesty and richness.

No...this world belonged to him.

The palace had the power of elemental forces ingrained in its foundation. And its majesty and restraint, tenderness and cruelty, austerity and playfulness, calm and wrath, passion and detachment had found potent expression in the youngest descendent of the family that owned it.

"Stop stripping me in your mind," Prithvi instructed. "I'm not going to sit here till dawn to satisfy your filthy fantasies."

Snapping out of a bizarre spell, she blushed. "I wasn't – I was framing my arguments," she claimed indignantly.

"Intelligent arguments? That will take a decade," he smirked. "Start talking and wrap it up in five minutes. If I don't respond at the end, know that I've died of boredom."

"Don't make such jokes! And why do I get just five minutes?" she protested.

"That was not a joke. And you're getting so much time because I expect you'll be praising me nonstop," Prithvi revealed carelessly.

"Thank you for the kindness, your honour," Nandini expressed with exaggerated gratitude, bowing comically with joined hands. "I begin by saying tomorrow is the birthday of a very unique human being. Personally, I think he is the most unique young man in the history of the universe," she declared, and then sternly wagged her finger at him. "But that is not why it is of earth-shattering importance to celebrate his birthday."

He viewed her with growing amusement as she scampered to stand behind the throne and impishly peeked at him from the right, her hair falling like a lush curtain.

"Who is the darling of everyone in this huge palace? He is," she nodded animatedly, then darted to the left to repeat the action. "Who is the most important person in my life? He is," she asserted vivaciously, pulling a bristled cheek before scuttling away to her original position in front of him and continuing her passionate defence.

"Who makes me feel confused if I'm crying for him or because of him? If I want to protect him or be protected from him? If I want to hug him or tear his heart out of his chest? He does," Nandini proclaimed dazzlingly. "If I had the power, his birthday would be declared a national holiday. But since it's not possible as of now, we poor souls who love him are trying to find happiness in a tiny celebration," she sighed dolefully. "Is that wrong? I think not! He wants to spend the day doing whatever he pleases. But then his birthday would be no different from every other day of his life," she argued vigorously with twinkling eyes. "Is that acceptable? I think not! And with that I conclude my opening statements, arguments and closing statements," she bowed and bounced up. Swaying playfully from side to side, Nandini mischievously said, "Please announce your verdict, your honour."

He gazed at her with immeasurable tenderness.

"I love you," Prithvi said softly.

The laughter died in Nandini's eyes.

She stared at him, rooted to the spot in an explosion of agony that was as inexplicable as it was searing. Tears blurred her vision. She didn't stop them as they spilled uncontrollably out of her eyes and raced down her cheeks.

He was approaching her. Then her face was in his warm hands. He lightly wiped her tears with the pad of his thumbs. She looked at him helplessly, desperate to say the words in return but unable to speak because her throat was clogged painfully.

His arms moved to enfold her.

"I love you," he murmured, poring over her features with a riveting concentration. She closed her eyes, and more tears flowed out. 

If she moved...if she spoke... if she breathed...the moment would slip out of her hands...

He bent to brush his lips against hers. The feather-soft kiss made her insides quiver. A second before embracing her lovingly, he repeated the confession against her lips...

.... this time, in so low a voice that the words seemed to be meant for her soul...

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