"I have reasons to believe that all of these recent incidents are connected," said one of the women at the head of the table, whom Lilavati had not been introduced to.

"Why would people do that, however?"

The question posed to the woman made her pause and think, and then shrug.

"They are connected somehow, perhaps done by the same set of people with some sinister motive. What that motive is or who those people are is not known to me."

Lilavati's eyes scanned the room full of women, all in various states of thought and varying expressions on their faces. She caught her breath as her eyes passed over—and then came back to rest on one particular woman.

Madhuraa.

She was silent, her gaze directed downwards. She stood stiffly, flinching at the smallest of sounds or motions around her. One of her friends who sat next to her placed a hand on her shoulder in solidarity, only to face Madhuraa making a full-body flinch away from the hand as though it was a dagger itself. 

The action earned her a shocked look from the women around her, and her eyes dropped down when they began to dampen.

Lilavati winced when she noticed this, knowing that she herself was the cause of her trauma.

She averted her gaze from the woman, hoping that the latter would not notice her presence for obvious reasons.

Lilavati tried to focus on what the women in the front of the room were debating about: how the clues they had found could possibly be related.

"—that cloth of the eunuch appears familiar to me, it must be a commoner's guise because the cloth is very coarse—"

"—Krishna's new wife killed an intruder—"

"—it must be from Chedi or Kashi—"

"—someone had the heavens-damned audacity to try and harm Bhadra Jiji—"

The clamour rang loudly in Lilavati's ears as various threads of conversation and debates, some spoken in soft tones while others in the heat of anger that rises when fierce debate occurs, wove themselves around her. She was not able to focus clearly on one single conversation, considering that some would break in the middle or turn another path entirely as was the nature of talk.

Amidst this sea of people speaking fondly and knowingly, she suddenly felt lonelier than ever before, and she desperately missed Iltani.

I miss you, Ilu, but your duties to your temple and your lady come first. I hope you return when you have the time.

Lilavati knew that she would not see her dearest friend for another few months at the least, considering the distance between the two places.

She was also glad, she considered, that not many had seemed to recognise her. Or there might have been a bloodbath.

She snorted silently.

"Alright my ladies, I think that's enough for today," cut in Bhadra, her gaze sweeping over the crowd of women.

All eyes swung to her.

The queen smiled and then dismissed them, and the women left.

Lilavati did not move as the women rose and walked in different directions, some in pairs or groups while others were alone. 

Some time later, she was the only one in the room.

She heard sniffling.

Lilavati raised her head.

Uh oh.

She was not alone.

Madhuraa was sitting, staring at the table as she swayed from side to side minutely and was apparently trying to contain her thoughts.

Lilavati rose.

She had to do something.

She looked around, only to find no one there who could possibly have helped her. 

She took a deep breath and approached Madhuraa, making sure to maintain a wide berth between them.

"Hey."

She called Madhuraa multiple times, sometimes by addressing her or other times by her name. It did not seem to work. 

In a slightly louder tone, she called her again.

This seemed to do the trick and Madhuraa's attention snapped outwards, and Lilavati immediately raised her hands in the universal sign of surrender to indicate that she was weaponless, also backing away.

Madhuraa blinked at her in confusion.

Once recognition dawned on her, she shuffled a few steps backwards, not taking her eyes off Lilavati.

"I'm sorry," Lilavati said softly. "You appeared to be lost deep in thought, and from the looks of it, it wasn't a pleasant place to be."

Madhuraa's reactions appeared slowly, as though her mind was muddled, and in a few seconds, she nodded, her voice rough, "It really wasn't."

From the plaintive expression on Madhuraa's face, Lilavati judged that she probably didn't want to be alone right now.

And against her better judgement, she asked, "Do you want to go to the gardens? It'll help clear your mind, the fresh air."

Madhuraa was considering it. Then she nodded, much to her surprise.

They walked to the gardens, side by side.

Lilavati watched Madhuraa as her expression and body language changed. Her stiff shoulders slowly relaxed, and the pained expression on her face smoothened out to the general joy that one felt from walking in Prakriti. Surprisingly, once her mind was clear, Madhuraa gave no indication of wishing to go away or strike her.

A question struck Lilavati.

"You do know that you're free to walk away any time you like? I hope you know that only you can choose if you wish to be in my presence."

A wry smile lightened Madhuraa's face. "I do know. I chose to walk with you, and with every step I take, I am still making that choice. Everyone who, well, knows about the incident has told me that I never have to see you again if I so wish."

"Then why are you here, walking with me as though we are long-time friends?"

Her smile broadened. "I figure I chose to walk with you because I think there's more to you than..." she gestured with her hands in a vague motion towards her, "...that whole kill-people-thing you have going on."

Lilavati snorted at that.

They sobered, and continued walking. 

"Do you hate Natha?" The question was out of her mouth before she could realise it, and once she did, she clamped her hand over her mouth. But the words had already been said.

"N—you mean Krishna?" She could see Madhuraa's unwillingness to call him her lord, and she dipped her head quickly.

"I don't... hate him, Lilavati. I just... don't want to accept him as my husband."

"Why?"

A sigh. "It's... complicated."

"I don't really think it's wise to insult the one whom you're married to."

Madhuraa's smile was wry again. "Well, I don't think I'll do that again, not with you around."

Lilavati did not laugh.

With another sigh, Madhuraa indicated a bench. They sat down together.

Madhuraa took a breath, and Lilavati knew that there was a story coming along.

"Many, many years ago, there was a small town. And in that small town lived a little girl with her father and grandmother. This little girl was bubbly and vivacious, with grand dreams of her future from the stories her grandmother used to weave to her every night. She fiercely believed that she had a bright future before her. One day, when she was playing, she came across this boy, wrestling with his friends in the mud. She pulled him off and told him he stank of mud."

There was fondness and a lingering nostalgia in Madhuraa's voice.

"And the years passed and the little girl grew into a young woman, and her head was beginning to get turned to the affair of boys. She and her friends giggled behind their hands as the other girls professed their love to the boys, and while others got married. One day, it was raining heavily, and the woman had gotten stuck in the rain because she had been left behind trying to save a small kitten. Suddenly, a warm and callused hand was on hers as she tried to pull the stone away from the mewling kitten. She looked up to see a handsome man, his hair flat against his face because of the rain showering down upon them. Collecting herself, the both of them with combined effort pulled the stone away and the woman snatched up the poor kitten.

"The man who had come to help her, offered his own uttariya to wrap the kitten in, and the woman found a feeling rising within her that she had never experienced before. The days passed, and she fell deeper and deeper in love with him, not only for his looks but also the sheer kindness that he seemed to radiate when around others. Her father recognised her love, and offered to go tell the man's family that she wished to marry him. The girl denied, abashed. 

"But somehow the man came to know of her love, and under a moonlit night, he professed his own love for her, clasping her hands in his." Madhuraa's voice trembled as she rubbed a shaking hand over her eyes.

"To the delight of both families, they began to court each other. He would bring flower crowns to her and she would sing to him in the evenings in the fields, and they fell deeper and deeper for each other. The woman knew that she was meant for him and he for her.

"But... a few weeks before their marriage, the village was attacked. The fields were set ablaze, people's bodies littered the grounds. The couple ran and ran, but they could not hide for long under the onslaught of the attackers, a fell light blinding them. As the couple ran... a disguised man came upon them, and as he thrust his sword out at the woman... the-the man pushed her away and-and..."

Madhuraa faltered. She began to weep, full sobs racking her whole body. Lilavati sat stunned, absorbing the story. It was no doubt the story of Madhuraa's past, and pity and a profound sadness welled up in her.

Through gasping breaths, Madhuraa sought to complete the story. It clearly cost her dearly to speak again.

"He was... s-stabbed, and the woman stood frozen in her place, his-his blood falling to the ground. He yelled at her to go, to run, but it was too late. The sword drew through him multiple—multiple times, mutilating his body, and a hand covered her mouth and pulled her back even as they reached for each other. He was lost to her... before they even became each other's..."

And she began to weep again, hiding her face in her hands, until she was out of breath and out of tears. 

Lilavati brushed a tear from her eye, looking at the weeping woman beside her in a new light. 

This changed everything.

She thought Madhuraa had been a vain and proud woman, unwilling to bow to their husband, but the truth was something else indeed.

She placed a shaking hand on Madhuraa's shoulders as her body shook with the force of her cries.

I am so, so sorry, Madhuraa.