Time passed.

Her head stopped aching at random times, a side effect of the concussion, and her nights became dreamless; without the nightmares that had plagued her for the past month and a half.

The security had been increased around the palaces, though the royals were trying to keep the news quiet, so as to not alarm the citizens and not alert the rest of the kingdoms that something was amiss in the island kingdom.

Mitravinda had approached her one day, asking her what she was interested in.

"Kanha would have asked you himself, but it seems he's too shy."

The words were said with a touch of fondness and a hint of teasing.

"Natha, shy of me?" Lilavati clarified, though a smile sprang to her lips. It was hard to not smile in the presence of fortune personified.

Mitravinda laughed. "You may ask him that, not me. He's not keen on sharing!"

Lilavati giggled, and then put thought to her elder sister's question.

"What I'm interested in... I don't really know, Jiji. History and politics seem interesting, because you can trace patterns of thoughts and actions throughout the years, and politics simply because I don't understand what goes on in the palace most of the time. I'd like to help Satyaa Jiji and maybe Natha."

Mitravinda studied her and nodded.

"It is a wise choice. Say what, I can ask Rohini to tutor you in these two fields. She has a keen eye for politics and loves history anyway."

Lilavati nearly gaped at her.

"Jiji, I wouldn't want to waste anyone's time—"

"You're not wasting anyone's time, Lila. It is our duty and our choice to help you find what interests you. Life would be boring otherwise, and you have a long one ahead of you."

Lilavati caught Mitravinda's eye, and the latter's gaze seemed to shimmer with something unreadable before it smoothened into happiness as she agreed.

"I'll tell Rohini then, and she'll either come to you with a time or send a dasi! Have fun!"

And here, Rohini, the chief of the junior wives of their husband stood in front of her.

The wheatish-skinned woman stood with all the learned grace of a princess and queen, but there was a faint brittleness to her poise that caught Lilavati's eyes. Brown eyes that appeared nearly black in the shadows of the room sparkled with joy, but there was a hardness to her gaze that spoke to years upon years of trauma that never really healed or went away.

She was dressed in orange shades, uncut gems glinting at her throat and ears, catching the golden sunlight and appearing a deep ochre against the yellow rays. Rohini wore an easy-going smile, but the way she clasped her fingers together told Lilavati that she was as nervous about this meeting as she herself was.

"Raani Rohini," she greeted, her head bowed. "I am endlessly grateful you took time out of your busy schedule to meet me."

The junior queen's smile widened, now appearing more genuine.

"It seems like Achyuta was indeed right when he described you as demure. Not that he'd ever be wrong, but it is always relieving to see his predictions true in person."

Rohini took a step forward, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before closing the distance between them and clasping Lilavati's hands in hers.

"I don't like formality. Most of our family calls me Dvitiyaa, you can call me that."

Lilavati was actually confused now, and her eyebrows furrowed.

"Dvitiyaa?"

Rohini heard the question behind the careful enunciation of her name and laughed, the sound like silk rustling on skin. She began to rattle off sentences that sounded used, and Lilavati realised that she had probably been asked that question innumerable times.

"Mata Rohini was here first, and me second. It started as a joke by one of my sisters, and then it actually stuck. I don't really mind it, to be honest. The second one, they mean to say, but I'm never second to those who matter, I hold my own special place in their hearts so I don't care about the whispers. It's only a matter of distinguishing between me and Mata—only a name."

Lilavati let herself smile, feeling as though she was being let in on an inside joke. And what more could make her feel like part of this massive family than sharing inside jokes?

"Speaking of, I was here to talk to you about your interests. Mitraa Jiji told me that you've expressed some interest in learning history and politics?" She waited for Lilavati to nod before she continued, "They are very interesting subjects, despite our kids who complain all the time about history being the driest subject they've ever studied. I'm glad you chose them, but you must prepare for me to be extremely passionate as I teach you, and I will correct you on the tiniest mistakes. Be forewarned!"

Lilavati grinned at that.

"Whatever you may throw at me, Raani, I will be prepared. Surely it can't be as bad as Ilu's ancient rants about the king of her city!"

Rohini chuckled but also tsked.

"Bhagini, your first lesson, right here and now: when someone asks you to call them by a familiar nickname, do so!"

It was her turn to look sheepish.

"Sorry, Dvitiyaa."

Rohini let out another laugh.

She took Lilavati's hand and led her to the library, a room so massive it could have fit at least five hundred people in there, and a place she had never been to before.

Tall shelves, rising to almost the height of the ceiling, stacked with parchments and bound books, a strange but comforting scent of paper and ink mixed in the air.

"Let's meet here every Shukravara?"

Lilavati nodded.

They delved into talking, their conversations meandering through the limitless topics of the worlds.

~

Jambavati read the letter, her expressions shifting minutely second by second as her eyes moved across the graceful script that was written on the parchment.

When her gaze settled on—presumably—Chedi's Mahamantri's signature, there was the quickest flash of anger, then sadness and a sigh escaped the bear princess' lips as she leaned into Kanha's shoulder, shifting to a deep grief.

There was silence across the table as Krishna pressed a soft kiss to his love's hair, and a small smile appeared on her face.

A few minutes passed, and then Satyabhama picked up the letter.

Quickly scanning the letter, she set it down with a soft thud, her normally docile earthy brown eyes afire with anger.

"He has no right to suggest you deserve this—"

"Bhamae—"

Satraajiti stood up.

"No, Natha! As is our grief for our dead king, so may you feel and understand when one close to you is dead! He had no right to even suggest that!"

The world faded to silence as the others struggled with their own anger but also tried to calm Satyabhama. The earth shook slightly in warning.

Lilavati's gaze settled on the table, as she sucked in a shuddering breath. Every instinct in her was screaming at her to flee this room, find a horse and find this man who dared to write such harsh words to her beloved.

She dug her nails into her palm, staying seated despite the fresh horror of old anger rushing through her veins.

A weight rested on her arm, warm and comforting, and Lilavati registered it through the haze that shrouded her mind as family.

"Match my breathing, little sister. You can do it."

Nagnajiti's touch guided her head to press against her bosom, like a mother comforting her child, letting Lilavati listen to the soothing whoosh of her elder sister's breath in and out, and she struggled to listen and imitate her.

Once she calmed down, she withdrew from Nagnajiti, opening her eyes to see everyone else gathered in conversation.

Lilavati stood up and walked out of the room.

Kanha was close behind her.

"Lila, stop."

She listened, her saari shifting in the wind. His warm hand caught hers, and his worried face caught her gaze.

A deep shame filled her, and she flinched away from him.

He did not let go.

"I promised," her voice was hoarse.

"I promised you too."

She lifted her dry eyes to see his eyes brimming with some emotion.

"You didn't act on it. We are human, Priyaa, it is human nature to have such thoughts occasionally. But what matters is that you didn't act on it."

She stayed silent.

Kanha lifted her chin to make her look at him. Lilavati blinked back her tears.

And he hugged her, without hesitation.

She buried her head in the crick of his neck, soaking in his warmth and letting her feelings consume her.