Page 46 of The Burning Mountain
He glanced at Billadev who seemed to be mulling over that information. Billadev was the son of a captain in Rajgarh’s army and became their friend about six years ago, months after Virat had died. He only knew bits and pieces and secondhand information. Nor had he ever seen Virat in person.
“I hope you understand that Veer’s anger was more directed at himself than you,” he said. “He feels guilty,” clarified Shota, when Billadev turned his head.
Billadev shrugged off that explanation as if it was a minor matter. “Why do you bait him so?” Billadev asked quietly, observing him out of eyes that Shota had once mistakenly thought were gullible. “You know he cares for her. She’s his wife. What could be the harm if they grow close?”
“Because it needed to be said.’’ Shota’s voice took on a somber tone. Veer’s insult had affected him more than he wished. “Love complicates everything. Others more powerful than me aren’t going to be pleased with this development and will say the same thing to him. He needs to be prepared to have an answer for them.”
21
THE REALIZATION CAME TOO LATE FOR A CERTAIN SOMEONE
Ketuvahana stewed in the room’s silence, broken only by the sizzle from the brazier set in one corner of the room. It was raining heavily. Again.
Maayavi sat across from him, moving not a muscle, content in the disconcerting silence. Ketuvahana wished he could dismiss him from his sight. He was in no mood to entertain the wizard after the day he had.
His father had summoned him for an accounting of affairs yesterday, which ended in a berating so bad that his blood had boiled, hearing the snide snickers from his brothers.
But that didn’t faze him as much as the rage that threatened to eclipse his thinking whenever he thought about how he was hoodwinked. Not once. Not twice. But thrice.
From the pair of young women who tried to steal something from the treasury—surely serving as a distraction—to the surprise of seeing someone had beaten him to freeing Aditya from thenagamani.
He ought to at least rejoice that the major obstacle to the throne of Thianvelli, Prince Aditya, was dead. But the queen’sproclamation during the public funeral cast doubts in the minds of the populace.
Hell, even he, who had witnessed the corpse of Prince Aditya up close, was starting to have doubts.
Some might think he was reaching. Trying to connect all three seemingly unrelated events, but his instincts said otherwise, and Ketuvahana had the highest respect for his gut. It saved his head many a time on the battlefield.
There was a tugging at the back of his mind, telling him he had overlooked something.
It was surprising how little he had gotten from the prisoners. His interrogation techniques never failed so abysmally. The woman he had strung up in his quarters hadn’t broken even after an entire evening. Then she had escaped despite sustaining heavy injuries, judging by the amount of blood in that room. How could she have escaped without inside help?
Perhaps he had been too hasty in her case, wounding her so severely. But his anger got the better of him when she burned the mark into his skin. Ketuvahana pressed gingerly on the spot, now healing with the excellent care from the palace physician.
He had been using the mark, once a symbol of Amaravati’s munificence, as a tool to torture people for several years, with no one being the wiser. But she not only seemed to recognize the mark, but she also appeared horrified and disgusted by what he was using it for.
And the woman he had killed in front of her—she had called her “princess” before dying. It had piqued his interest then, but everything drowned in the rush of anger later when she injured him. He didn’t recall that particular detail until now.
Was she really a princess, or had it just been a term of endearment?
And she did scream when he drew the symbol on her palm, but now, thinking back on it, it almost seemed like it was forced, like an afterthought. Could it be…?
Of all their neighbors, the ones they had been expecting to make trouble for them was Amaravathi. And of the seven princesses of Amaravathi, there was only one who could be a potential possibility, the one in exile. What was her name? The wife of Prince Veer of Rajgarh, who had dared to make a murder attempt on a powerful prince on their wedding night, no less.He wished he knew more about her than just that rumor.
But no. That was preposterous.Who would send royalty into an enemy camp? Even Amaravathi wouldn’t be so brazen. They may offer aid if it didn’t hurt them, but they had stayed away from helping the previous royal family. So far.
The nail he was biting on parted from its nail bed, causing a steady trickle of blood to run down his hand.
Dread sat in his heart. He sensed he had blundered about something but couldn’t point to one thing among the string of disasters that seemed to happen together.
“You should’ve sent word before things got this out of hand,” spoke the wizard, bringing him out of his musings. Today, he was in the guise of a well-fed, middle-aged man, who apparently had been somewhat wealthy, judging by the finery and clothes. But no amount of expensive incense, which Ketuvahana had ordered to be burned in the room when he heard of the imminent arrival of the wizard, could disguise the smell of decay underneath.
“I told you to be patient. That I’d deal with Aditya when I returned. This is what happens when you don’t follow my orders.”
Ketuvahana calmed his anger with supreme effort. Follow orders? Did the wizard realize he was talking to royalty?
“You say you mistook this man in the prison for me?” said Maayavi, a hand on his unnerving staff with its shrunken skulls atop it. “That should have been your first clue. You know me better than to put myself at anyone’s mercy. But it’s curious. This person must have an affinity to snakes for thenagamanito choose him over Prince Aditya. I am surprised, though, that you left him at Giridah Fort. I thought you’d have him transferred to the main prisons here.”
Ketuvahana mumbled under his breath, but the wizard caught it, nevertheless.
