The number of marks on the walls increased, days turning to nights to return to morning yet again; dwindling with it her hope as the days numbered more.

Nightmares haunted her sleep and illusions preyed on her mind whilst awake, weakening her.

Lilavati swayed slightly and shuddered.

The isolation was what took a toll on her the most. After having been used to the hustle and bustle of Dvaravati, despite her tendencies to stay hidden from the public eye, the deafening silence was unnerving.

Her thoughts turned to the woman who had refused her aid in escape. The woman had been taken out a mere few hours later, crying and yelling, but Lilavati could not bring herself to shudder at the thoughts of what they might have done to her already.

"You wouldn't hurt your mother, would you, dear one?"

The croon of a voice that was supposed to be maternal sounded somewhere off to her right, and Lilavati turned, gasping.

Even though she had many demons, her mind had turned on itself and brought up some of her earliest ones; wounds she thought had long since closed up, even though she had but a few memories that were not tinged with the ache a child should never have had to feel.

I have to get out of here.

The part of her voicing her deep desire to escape was only a small one. The larger part of Lilavati had given up, waiting numbly for... something.

Perhaps release from this body, she mused idly.

A quick scan of the room told her the various ways she could attain this escape, but the small part in her was stubborn despite being outvoiced.

Where would I go after that? If I managed to escape.

She shifted in her position, wincing at the pain that shot up her joints.

Dvaraka was only a dream, she told herself. If he wanted to come for you, he would have come a long time ago.

Ilu probably wouldn't expect me either... she'd probably send me back to him, and what's the use of going there if all we had—all I dreamed was not true?

She exhaled slowly.

"Let him be happy, that's all I ask." Her voice was hoarse from disuse.

Lilavati let her head rest against the wall and let herself drift off.

~

The walls did not seem to be thick enough to block conversations that took place outside her door.

She had noted this amusedly a few days ago.

"—seems like the issue must have been pressing. He left in a hurry."

There was a snort.

"Or it might be that he wished to be back as quickly as possible. Who wouldn't, with such a beauty waiting for him here?"

"And that she's Krishna's wife. What a catch!"

"I bet he's beside himself with worry! Serves the gwala right. They'll never find her here."

The next words were a bit more subdued. "Maharaja would have been pleased."

Would?

Lilavati frowned.

Was their king dead?

She racked her brain, but she was not knowledgeable enough about the kings of Bharata to make a guess.

Seems like their master is away, she wondered as she shut her eyes as his voice slipped into her ears again.

I have to get out.

If not for anyone else, for myself. I have not come this far, shed so much blood, made so many efforts of reparation to die in this dingy excuse of a room.

She took a breath.

If I die, I would rather it be on my own terms.

The memories of her time in the city of liberation returned to her in full colour and vividness.

She had not fought for a somewhat working relationship with Madhuraa, formed a close kinship with Satyaa Jiji, a tentative bond with her husband to let it end here.

If he doesn't wish me to return, I will go. But I cannot give up.

Determination flooded her, where numbness and despair had nestled for so long.

I don't care if I die trying.

At least I would have tried.

And it seemed as though Krishna would have smiled, if he heard her.

~

She was on high alertness now, watching and listening carefully for some crack in their guard.

When the tenth mark joined the nine others on the wall, she heard someone stumbling outside and cursing.

Something crashed against the door, pushing it slightly ajar.

The security had grown more lax around her over the past few days. Lilavati supposed the men had gotten tired of guarding her.

The man outside cursed and mumbled as he picked up the fallen item.

She stood, stretching herself and noted with a small feeling of hope that her body did not ache all over. Small mercies, she supposed.

Focusing on the window through which her food used to be shoved daily, Lilavati winced inwardly as the smell of madira wafted towards her.

The man sent to guard her was drunk.

She had to hold in a snort.

It appeared as though their guard grew ever more lax, and she idly wondered what punishment they would face when their master returned.

She snapped back to seriousness, and cautiously tested the door.

It opened inward, which was a security risk—good for her—considering that the drunk man would not notice her until she moved in front of him. Lilavati stepped out, keeping her footfalls as silent as possible.

The man was struggling to stand, mumbling to himself and fidgeting as he tried to keep his head straight.

She took his helmet, which was lying in a corner, and raised it high enough to hit on the man's head. The blow instantly had him crumpling to the ground with the force of the helmet.

Strong enough to knock him out for several hours.

Lilavati wondered, as she bent over him, stripping the man of his weapons: a spear, a sword and several daggers hidden on his body, if she ought to kill him.

But she supposed it would do neither of them any good.

The man was only drunk, after all.

And she had sworn not to take a life except in self-defence.

She left the man, crumpled on the ground.

Her senses were on high alert, knowing that so far her escape was seemingly easy. Lilavati scanned the corridor, thankful that no one had noticed her escape so far.

Right or left?

She snuck both ways, peeking through the corners to gauge the number of soldiers or her chances to escape.

Both corridors were filled with a similar number of guards, so she decided to go through the right one.

Lilavati stopped moments before she turned, centering herself once.

In, and out.

A ghost of a hand tucked her hair behind her ear tenderly. She remained still.

The touch was not malevolent, but she still had to be cautious.

"I believe in you, dear one. Go home to your Krishna."

The mention of her husband had her expression softening.

She took a deep breath, and turned the corridor.

The guards' attention snapped up to her instantly and she readied herself, noting the five men springing into attack.

Lilavati heard a man cursing in the far distance, and footsteps, which did not bode well. He had run off to warn the others, she understood.

She did not have much time then, until reinforcements arrived.

She sprung into attack.

Throwing the spear at one man, who dodged, she crossed the short distance between them, weaving between the daggers thrown at her.

She hit one man in the face and then grabbed her dagger, flinging it blindly into the gut of another man who was attempting to grab her.

A sword nicked her on the side, and she hissed, turning and grabbing her own sword even as she kicked one of the men, sending him flying against the wall.

The fight lasted for quite a few minutes, as she fought for her life, knocking out two men—one with a blow that landed him against the wall, a sickening crunch drowned out by the sounds of battle as she heaved for breath.

She heard the whistle of air behind her and struck backwards, her elbow meeting a man's chest as he grunted in surprise and loss of breath. Before she could react, he gripped her hair and she noted she was headed straight for the wall.

Lilavati twisted from under him, the momentum forcing the man to dash his elbow against the wall and he howled.

She was unable to avoid hitting the wall herself, her head bumping against the solid rock, and she winced.

But the danger was not over yet, as the man grasped his arm but was still very awake—and a danger to her.

She grabbed a bloody sword that was lying on the floor and then, without pause, ran it through the man. The choking sound grated on her ears, as a heavy thud told her that he had fallen to the ground.

Lilavati panted.

She stood amongst a few crumpled bodies, blood on the walls.

She felt sick.

A small part of her was surprised. She was a murderer, she had killed people in cold blood before without even flinching at the smell or sounds of dying bodies. But now she could not stand staying there for even a second, with the heavy stench of blood in the air.

She really had changed.

She grabbed as many weapons as she could, wiping the blood away as much as she could, aware of the faint noise of men preparing to ambush her.

Leaving the bodies behind, she walked through the corridor, the light growing stronger, and with it, her hope.

Lilavati walked straight into a room that was full of at least twenty guards, armed with every possible weapon, ready to kill her.

She knew she was hopelessly outmatched.

But this was a better death than wasting away in a dingy room.

With a small smile on her face and a prayer sent up to the divinities that looked down, she stabbed one man in the back, his groan alerting the guards to her presence.

One down.

Many more to go.

~

She was getting exhausted, a small voice in the back of her head noticed.

Lilavati snorted, as she ducked under one man's sword and tackled the legs of another.

Combat really does take a lot of energy out of you.

Her mind tried to catalogue the number of injuries she had, even as she fought, rising to her feet.

There was a dull pounding in her head, and her head felt slick with something. Her left side ached, her body jolting with pain as she continued to move, dodging and trying her best to incapacitate the men surrounding her.

She gasped as someone stabbed her in the side, but as she bent her head to avoid a blow, she knew she could not stop.

Striking a man down, she turned only slightly to face another man as their swords clashed in the room, echoing off the walls. She found an opening and swung her sword in the direction of his neck, lopping his head off.

But she did not notice a man creeping up towards her, his sword raised, poised to stab her in the back.

She whirled around as she heard a soft footstep, but she was too late to avoid the blow.

A new sword, pristine and clean, met the bloodied one raised to attack her, and Lilavati froze.

A/N: Welcome back, y'all! I'm glad to be back and publishing again, I missed all of y'all's comments.

I know I'd promised I would update twice a week once I returned, but I don't have all the chapters written just yet, so I'll be sticking to a weekly Friday update only. 

So you guys are stuck with me for about two (and a half) more months. I promise I'll get the book done before it's first year anniversary though!

Hope you guys enjoyed!