Page 12 of The Burning Mountain
That messy ball of bitterness had threatened to overwhelm her, until she joined her special training; reshaping them into a weapon and used it carve her way through the different levels of chakra, mastering the goddess powers. That process gave her the wherewithal to see things from a different viewpoint.
Veer acted that way because he truly believed she hated him and had killed his friend. Her father made the proclamation because she had thrown the peace agreement between their kingdoms into jeopardy, and he was the king. And Kalpana did no crime other than to fall for the lies of a knave.
And she herself had perpetuated everything by hanging on to an untruth. Because she had been afraid. Of the man who still carried the epithet of “the scourge of the north.”
If there was anyone Chandra genuinely hated it was Virat. The one person who acted in a supremely selfish way.
But what would her life have been like if she had trusted Veer instead? There were a lot of parallels to be drawn between her situation in the past and now with Gauri Devi in the present.
None of that mattered now.
“I’m not completely blameless,” she spoke quietly, the words assuming a gravity, coming from a place where nothing but honesty thrived. “I’ve hidden the truth from him. Making the same mistake you’re making now by doubting him and dismissing his help. If I could see past everything that has happened, why can’t you?”
The silence stretched as Gauri Devi gazed absently at the mother-daughter duo giggling over something.
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Gauri Devi heavily. “Since my husband’s passing, I’ve had to find allies where I could. These two years have taught me too many things I never thought I’d need to know.” Her eyes bored into Chandra’s, and whatever she saw seemed to convince her. “Very well. I’ll accept your endorsement and agree to Prince Veer’s help.”
Chandra gave an unobtrusive sigh of relief and sent a short nod toward Billadev.
Samyukta, who had been watching everything silently, said, “If Gauri Devi trusts you, then we of the Resistance will also offer you help. But this cooperation will end once Prince Aditya is safely back in our hands. You’ll be on your own after that.”
“There is something you should know, though,” said Gauri Devi, cutting short Chandra’s relief. “The other key piece…my father entrusted it to my sister, Namata Devi, and I don’t know what has become of it after she fell into Naga Bhairava’s clutches.”
“But…why was the key piece broken into two parts in the first place?”
Gauri Devi’s eyes slipped away. “It broke itself. Probably because Aditya isn’t the only person with a rightful claim to the throne. That honor belongs equally to my sister.”
6
A TASK ASSIGNED
Shota sat cross-legged on a stone slab, two palm-leafed manuscripts open in front of him. He made an extra hard divot, cursing softly, when the reed pen failed to transfer the ink to the dried papyrus. His favoritekalam, back in Rajgarh, had a smoother flow, and he hadn’t had to use such ordinary reed pens of inferior quality since his training days.
Not to mention the parsimony of the palace officials who saw fit to give him only one lamp to work with.
A short table with a sloping top and squat legs—standard furniture for scribes—stood in front of him. His “office” was a cramped space in one nook of the palace wing. Rubbing his tired eyes, he glanced at the corner for a water clock, but then realized he wasn’t given one. He was too low on the totem pole for such luxuries and had to wait for the chime of the bell to mark the time, like everyone else.
He wished he could go home but his work ethic meant he would remain until he finished his assignments. Tucking his legs more tightly under him, he shifted. Something poked him from the bottom pocket of his shirt. He felt it through the cloth, and realized it was the Rajgarh’s judiciary amulet. He didn’t dareleave it in his quarters and felt much better having it on his person.
His mind drifted to the past. To the last time his failure to always have it with him resulted in a blunder.
Seven years ago…Amaravathi,the day after Chandra’s murder of Virat…
Shota heaved awayfrom his slump against the wall when he heard the door to the rooms beyond open and Veer walked out.
“What are you doing here?” asked Veer, stopping short. His voice rasped, as if he had forgotten how to speak. A scruffy beard grew on his face. That, combined with the bloodshot eyes, gave him a wild appearance.
Shota watched him out of narrowed eyes, taking in the details anyone else might have missed.
“I wanted to grieve my dead friend through the night, too, but I wasn’t allowed in to keep vigil over his body,” Shota said, crossing his arms against his chest. Accusation made the words sharp, but he wasn’t feeling his best, the events of the day prior taking a toll on his mental agility.
Veer reeled back as if struck and lowered his eyes. His mouth moved but he couldn’t seem to find words.
Shota huffed out a breath, his voice softening, and handed him a clean square of cloth. “There’s a spot of ash you’ve missed. Right near your temple.” He hesitated, and observing Veer’s reaction, said carefully, “One would think you had other intentions than just mourning your friend the way you are behaving.”
Veer took the cloth without any reaction, but a remote coolness had replaced whatever guilt Shota had seen earlier. “Why were you waiting for me?”
“It’s time for the trial. I’m here to get you,” said Shota, watching as Veer rubbed at the spot and then wiped his face. It didn’t improve his appearance. He still looked like a man who had been put through an emotional wringer. Shota wondered briefly how much worse he himself looked. He didn’t have time to freshen up in his quarters. Their entire party from Rajgarh hadn’t slept a wink since the princess had been found pulling a dagger from Virat’s fallen form.
