The moss travelled up the decaying walls of the dungeon. They reeked of a foul and stale odor. The floor was damp and treacherous. The passage of day and night did not make much of a difference within the four walls  of the dungeon.

Trinethrini sat in a corner. She hugged herself close to keep out the chill that numbed her to the bones. The only time she saw another human being was when food or water descended from above through the rope that dangled a few feet away from her.

The rope had a hook attached to it using which food was lowered into the dungeon. The rope resembled a hangman's noose more than a medium for something life-preserving like food or water.

What she saw was a small speck of light, and a rude, hoarse voice accompanying it, "Hey you! Here!"

The food was coarse, bland and tasteless. It comprised of a hard lump of a jumbled mass where everything, bread, rice, curry, was rolled into a single ball. The cooks hadn't been into much of an effort to cook delicacies for the poor wretches in the dungeons. Often the leftovers from the kitchens were served up to the prisoners.

They took care of just the basics, preserve the soul in that body until the law decided to relieve it. The water in the jug was identical in color to her eyes. Everything was enough to sap a person's strength and break their spirit.

Trinethrini meditated and chanted hymns of her patron goddess, Jwalamukhi. She drew hidden reserves of strength by singing these ancient runes. She occasionally reminisced about Eiravati, "I just hope what I did was enough."

She rehearsed the lines of her confession. She knew the moment of reckoning would come. She repeated to herself, "I pushed the Rajamata down the balcony. I did it. Maharani Eiravati is innocent."

Her own voice multiplied tenfold until it mocked her. Suddenly, Trinethrini heard voices above. She fell silent. She calculated the time approximately. It wasn't near any of the meal times. It was probably night.

The gaoler held a hand-held lantern. There was another form beside him. Trinethrini recognized the scent of jasmine, Eiravati's favorite perfume. He set the lantern down on the ground. Eiravati said, "Leave us. I won't be more than ten minutes."

The gaoler did not budge. He pleaded, "I've placed my job on the line, Maharani."

"Alright. Just five minutes. But I need to talk to her alone", Eiravati bargained.

The man reascended the steps throwing back occasional glances behind him. After he was out of earshot, Eiravati ran to Trinethrini, "I was out of my mind with terror these last few days. But now, everything is going fine. I have confessed everything to Subahu in private. Only a few more days and you will be free."

"You shouldn't have done it, Eira", Trinethrini said.

She wrung her hands in despair and buried her face in them. She sobbed, "Everything I did to keep you and Narasimha safe will go in vain."

Eiravati held her close to her chest, "You must trust me. How could I let you face the consequences for what I did?"

Trinethrini asked, "How did he take it?"

"He was calm and composed. He told me he would have averted this situation if I had come to him much earlier", Eiravati said.

Trinethrini shook her head at her friend's naivety, "And you believed him? Did you tell Narasimha anything?"

"No, but..."

Eiravati's words remained in her throat. The gaoler had reappeared to escort her out. Eiravati hastily opened the folds of her saree and thrust something into Trinethrini's hands unseen by the gaoler. She rose up to follow the man.

It was the small locket of Goddess Jwalamukhi. Trinethrini always wore this locket along with a simple silver chain around her neck. She always claimed that the locket was her protective talisman and would guard her from all dangers to Eiravati.

On that fateful day, the locket had come lose in Eiravati's chamber during the scuffle with Rajamata Kamaroopi. Trinethrini clutched the locket tight in her hands as she broke into tears.
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Eiravati found Narasimha waiting for her in her chamber when she got back. She threw aside the shawl that was covering her. She said, "I went to see Trinethrini in the dungeons."

Narasimha gave a knowing glance, "Did she confess anything? I mean, about the incident. Mother, do you really believe Trinethrini capable of such a dastardly crime? Where were you when the incident happened? Did you see or hear something of relevance? Why would Nanamma care about Trinethrini? She was insignificant to her."

Eiravati seated herself beside Narasimha, "I've spoken to your father. Everything has been taken care of. You don't worry about all this, Narasimha."

Narasimha placed his head in his mother's lap. He said, "Growing up doesn't feel good, mother. I feel as though I have lost a vital part of myself."

Eiravati gently rocked her feet  as she patted Narasimha's head. He gently drifted to sleep. She contemplated the day's events. She hoped she was doing the right thing.
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The next few days flew past. Eiravati kept waiting for the announcement from Subahu dismissing the case and freeing Trinethrini from the dungeon.

Eiravati kept telling herself, "He has promised me. He will do it today."

But the today became tomorrow, and the morrow, and the morrow. Eiravati kept finding excuses for Subahu.

"He is busy."

"He forgot."

"He is sick."

"He is indisposed."

She went to see him once or twice in his chamber but she was denied entrance.

The day of the case arrived. Everyone had assembled. It was a high-profile case. All the people who had assembled were discussing what punishment Subahu would award his mother's murderess among themselves.

Eiravati's name was announced. Everyone stood standstill. She entered the courtroom. Two maids flanked her on either sides. She took her assigned place in the pavilion behind the screen. Her maids stood behind her.

Narasimha's name was announced next. He also took his seat which was just a single level beneath Subahu's throne. Everyone was awaiting Subahu's arrival with trepidation.

Subahu's name was announced at last. Eiravati instinctively averted her eyes away from him when he stared at her before slowly walking towards his throne.

The color left her face. Her fingers became numb. She did not blink her eyes. Her heartbeats raced ahead. She could feel the spasms contorting her body.

Subahu announced, "Let the proceedings begin."

A minister read out in a dry, administrative and monotonous voice the bare minimum details regarding the case in question.  The court's agenda for the day was to hear this case and decide upon the punishment of the criminal if found guilty. He also informed the court that the criminal had already confessed to her crime and that this procedure was a mere formality.

He clapped his hands asking a group of soldiers to produce the criminal before the king. Trinethrini was ushered in by the soldiers. Everyone was waiting with bated breath for Subahu to begin his cross-examination.

Subahu did something entirely unexpected at this juncture. He walked up to Narasimha and handed over his sceptre of justice to him. He turned to the court and said, "I nominate my son, Narasimha, the Crown Prince of Mahishmati, to judge this case on my behalf. I am an aggrieved party in this case. I lost my mother, the esteemed Rajamata of this kingdom, in the said incident. The accused in this case is a very close friend of my wife."

Subahu's voice lingered when he said the word 'wife'. He proceeded, "Hence, I fear I will not be able to conduct a fair and impartial trial in this case. I trust my son, Narasimha, will ably discharge this duty on my behalf to the satisfaction of all."

Eiravati stood up in her seat while Subahu was talking to the court. All her senses were heightened. She sank into her seat after his last few words. The ground beneath her had caved in.

Eiravati saw everything clearly now. Subahu glanced again towards the pavilion. Her husband had lulled her into a false sense of assurance and security with his promises. This had been his plan all along.

Subahu's face sported an unbridled belligerence and barely concealed smirk. His eyes emitted pure venom. You wanted me to spare you the public ignominy for all those years we spent together. I did. Enjoy yourself answering your son's questions. Oops! In public!