The days in hiding had blurred together into something strangely pleasant.

Ahim sat near the open window, watching the early morning sun spill golden light across the courtyard. The gentle chatter of voices, the occasional clang of vessels from the kitchen—it was peaceful, almost domestic. Jayati moved about the room with effortless grace, bringing a tray of warm milk and dates.

“You should eat more,” she chided gently. “You won’t heal if you don’t.”

Ahim smirked, stretching his sore limbs. “You sound like my sister.”

Jayati arched an eyebrow. “Leelavati must be wise, then.”

That made him laugh. Wise? Leelavati? She was fierce, hot-tempered, and far too sentimental for her own good. But she loved him in the way only an elder sister could—with a loyalty that defied reason.

He took a sip of the milk, savoring the unexpected comfort. It was strange—this safe house, these unfamiliar people—yet he felt at ease. Jayati made him feel at ease.

And then, slowly, things began to shift.

At first, it was a small thing—one of the men in the household brushing past him in the hallway, not even acknowledging his presence. He had assumed they were Jayati’s family, yet their interactions were… distant. There was no warmth between them.

Then there was the night he had woken up restless and overheard a murmur from the other room.

“…has not sent word…”

“…we must wait…”

The words barely registered in his drowsy state. He turned over, exhaustion pulling him back into sleep.

It wasn’t until later—when he absentmindedly reached for a letter, intending to send word to Atulya—that the realization struck him.

His usual contact—the man who had smuggled messages for him—had not come. Not once in the past few days.

A cold thread of unease wove through his mind.

He sought Jayati, intending to ask. She was in the courtyard, tying her hair up, the setting sun catching in the strands. When he approached, she turned with an easy smile.

“Vibhuta—he hasn’t come by lately.” Ahim kept his voice light. “Do you know why?”

Jayati tilted her head, as if surprised by the question. “He is unwell.”

Something about the way she said it—calm, too unconcerned—made his stomach tighten. She wasn't supposed to know that. The previous hosts of the safe houses didn't know about the messenger's code name.

Doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Something was wrong.

That night, he listened more carefully.

“…keeping him unaware…”

“…not yet time…”

Ahim’s fingers curled into fists beneath the blankets. Not yet time for what?

And suddenly, everything—the distant men, the missing contact, Jayati’s careful smiles—clicked into place.

His breath came shallow. This was not a sanctuary. It was a cage.

---

The scent of sandalwood and oil lamps lingered in the air as Atulya walked alongside Nakul, their footfalls echoing through the palace corridors.

“I know you are busy with your son being so young but I must warn you as a friend, the coming days are going to keep you busier. Just a few more months. Now that we have the blessings of Hastinapur, once Bhrata Arjun returns,” Nakul was saying, "we can begin with the auspicious tasks. Dwarkadhish Krishna will be informed, of course. The letter should reach him soon. We cannot proceed without his blessings. The Rajasuya Yajna must have his counsel.”

Atulya did not falter, but something inside him went utterly still.

The Rajasuya Yajna. Now of all times?

He had played his game—his carefully constructed conspiracy, the opium smuggling, the framing of Magadh—all with the intent of manipulating the Pandavas into a war against Jarasandh such that he could inherit the throne of Magadha. Even after Ahim's blunder, he had taken measures and counter measures so that his infant son could one day inherit after him only for the Pandavas to do his wish without aiding in his intentions.

Oh how he would love to curse destiny. Rajasuya Yagna could never be possible with Jarasandh opposing the Pandavas. An unstoppable force would collide soon with an immovable object and Atulya for all his sharp mind, couldn't fathom where his character would fit into this.

His pulse thundered, though his expression remained unreadable. He bid his farewell to Rajkumar Nakul and changed his path towards his chambers.

By the time he reached the chamber where Jatashya and Leelavati were waiting, his mind was already adjusting, recalculating.

Leelavati shot to her feet the moment he entered, her eyes wild. “Ahim—”

Atulya raised a hand, cutting her off. “Tell me everything.”

Jatashya hesitated, his gaze shifting. His shoulders were stiff, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“She confronted me,” he admitted.

Atulya’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Jatashya exhaled. “Rajkukari Abhijishya.”

Silence.

Leelavati paled. “She has Ahim?”

Jatashya hesitated. “…I don’t know.”

Atulya stepped forward, his voice like a blade. “What did she say?”

Jatashya’s throat bobbed. “That she knows.”

Leelavati clenched her fists. “That’s it? That she knows?” Her voice cracked. “We cannot just sit here! We need to—”

“No.” Atulya’s voice was cold, final. “Rash action will only confirm to her that Ahim is valuable. And once she realizes that, he becomes a pawn.”

Leelavati’s breath hitched. “So we do nothing?”

Atulya turned to Jatashya, his expression unreadable. “You did not tell me everything.”

Jatashya swallowed hard, his fingers curling into his palms.

Leelavati’s desperation burned into anger. “For once, stop thinking like a strategist, Atulya! That is my brother—”

Atulya’s gaze flickered to her. “And if we act foolishly, you will never see him again. Or worse, if we are found involved in the conspiracy after the arson your brother orchestrated by absolutely ruining my plans then please tell me whom should I name next of kin to leave our infant son to after he is orphaned.”

Leelavati flinched.

The silence was palpable which only was pierced by the wail of their son waking up from his nap. Leelavati rushed to soothe the baby but not before sending a scathing look at her husband.

Jatashya closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

Atulya needed to keep an eye on them. On one hand, his wife could act rashlyand on the other hand, his father-in-law was rather mum on the details about his confrontation. But whatever it might be, Atulya would not let the legacy of his clan fade away so easily. He would not let everything be in vain.

Currently, they had one option. Wait and watch.

---

The candlelight flickered against the polished wood of Abhijishya’s desk. Her fingers hovered over a scroll, the ink glistening in the dim glow.

She should have been pleased. Ahim was secured. Truth was in her hands if she were to believe Jatasya's tale.

Yet unease prickled at the edges of her thoughts.

Jatashya had been too shaken. Too reluctant. There was more to this. The entire fiasco couldn't be for only vengeance. If not vengeance, then it had to be greed.

Her gaze flickered toward Parnika, sleeping fitfully on the cot nearby. The bandages round her throat which she usually hid with a cotton shawl were clean, but her voice was still gone.

Abhijishya leaned back, exhaling. This had begun as a political maneuver. Now it was something more.

She thought of Jatashya—an old man telling half truths despite his son's life being in danger.

She thought of Leelavati—gentle, too diligent, too wary of being overly familiar.

She thought of Atulya—an opportunist with a friendly smile and one of her husband's only friends in court.

And she thought of Nakul.

For a moment, her grip on the scroll tightened. She could tell him everything. But then… what? Parnika was her responsibility. This was hers to handle.

Her gaze darkened.

But she needed more. More than just a confession. More than a conspiracy theory.

Slowly, she dipped her quill into ink.

She would send out a message—a whisper through the right channels. A piece of false information. A carefully crafted bait.

And then she would watch.

Watch who moved. Watch who faltered.

Her pulse thrummed.

Because the moment they made a move—she would strike.