Shadows of Loyalty and a Brother's Secret
The vibrant chaos of the Surya Mela was a perfect cloak for secrets. As Aaditya and Devansh moved away from the main crowd, seeking a moment of quiet near a stall selling aromatic spices, two pairs of watchful eyes followed them from the shadows.
One man, his gaze intense and unwavering, was focused solely on Prince Devansh. His posture was rigid, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Another man, leaning against a pillar, observed the first watcher with a growing suspicion. Seeing Aaditya and Devansh move further away, the second man decided to intervene.
He stepped forward, blocking the first man's line of sight. "You there," he said, his voice low but firm. "Why were you staring so intently at Prince Aaditya?"
The first man's eyes snapped towards the newcomer, a flicker of annoyance in them. "No. I was not looking at Prince Aaditya. I was watching Prince Devansh."
This only deepened the second man's suspicion. "And why would you be doing that? State your purpose, friend. What is your intention towards him?"
The first man straightened up, a proud glint in his eye. "My intention is to protect him. I am his bodyguard. My name is Alok. And who are you to question me? Why were you watching them?"
A confident smirk touched the second man's lips. "I am Nihar. Prince Aaditya's personal guard. And I was doing my duty, the same as you." He took a step closer, his tone turning challenging. "Now, step aside. You're blocking my view."
Alok didn't budge an inch. "Why should I move? I was standing here first."
Nihar's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? This spot offers the best vantage point. I need it."
"The best vantage point for watching Prince Devansh is right here," Alok retorted, crossing his arms. "You find another."
For a moment, the two bodyguards stood toe-to-toe, a silent battle of wills raging between them. They were two sides of the same coin – fiercely loyal, highly skilled, and utterly stubborn. The air crackled with a competitive tension that was almost comical, a stark contrast to the soft, unspoken connection of the princes they protected. It was a clash not of enemies, but of two protectors who took their duties a little too seriously.
Their standoff was broken by the return of Virendra and Mrinal, followed shortly by Aaditya and Devansh. Seeing their respective charges safe, Alok and Nihar immediately fell back, melting into the periphery, though they continued to shoot occasional, competitive glares at each other.
"Did you enjoy the mela?" Virendra asked the group, his eyes lingering on Mrinal.
"It was wonderful," Mrinal replied, her smile genuine.
"Then let us not linger in the crowd," Aaditya suggested. "The palace is prepared for you."
The journey to the Suryapuri palace was a short one. The majestic structure, built from golden-hued stone, seemed to absorb the last rays of the sun, glowing from within. In the grand reception hall, Maharaja Viraj and Maharani Sheetal awaited them.
As they entered, Mrinal and Devansh stepped forward and performed a deep, respectful pranaam, touching the feet of the Suryapuri King and Queen.
Maharani Sheetal immediately protested with a warm, motherly chiding. "Arre, arre, Rajkumari! What are you doing? One only touches the feet of one's own parents and one's in-laws!" Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, and a faint, knowing blush crept onto Mrinal's cheeks. Her gaze inadvertently flickered towards Virendra for a split second.
Virendra, ever the diplomat, smoothly changed the subject. "Ma, perhaps we should let our guests freshen up after their journey? Or would you prefer to entertain them here itself?"
Maharani Sheetal laughed, a light, musical sound. "Of course, of course! Come, my dears, let us go inside. You must be tired." She led the way, her warmth immediately putting the Chandrapuri siblings at ease.
They were shown to lavish guest suites and, after freshening up, were treated to a magnificent feast. The meal was filled with lively conversation, mostly led by Virendra and Aaditya, who went out of their way to make their guests feel welcome. Plates were piled high with delicacies, and glasses were never empty. Through it all, Aaditya ensured Devansh tasted every dish he thought the other prince would like, while Virendra engaged Mrinal in stories of Suryapuri's history, his attention never wavering from her.
---
In the cold, stone silence of Himgiri, a storm was brewing. Prince Yuvraj stood in his chamber, his body trembling with a volatile mix of grief and rage. Mantri Shamsher stood before him, his face a mask of feigned sympathy.
"You dare... you dare speak such lies!" Yuvraj finally snarled, his voice cracking. He lunged forward, grabbing the older man by the collar of his robe and slamming him against the wall. "What game are you playing, Mantri? Tell me!"
Mantri Shamsher, though startled, did not struggle. He met Yuvraj's furious gaze, his voice a venomous whisper. "It is no game, My Prince. It is the truth. Maharaja Rohan had a relationship with a maidservant. A son was born from that union. His name is Karan. He lives in a well-provided house on the outskirts of the capital, away from prying eyes. The Maharaja visits him in secret. He is preparing to bring him to the palace, to legitimize him... and to name him as his heir instead of you."
Yuvraj's grip tightened, his knuckles white. The words were like physical blows, each one shattering the foundation of his world. First Mrinal, now his own father? Was there no one who saw his worth?
"Lies!" Yuvraj hissed, but the conviction in his voice was fading, replaced by a horrifying doubt.
"See for yourself, My Prince," Shamsher goaded softly. "The truth has a way of revealing itself."
With a final, furious shove, Yuvraj released him. "Get out," he whispered, his voice raw. "Get out of my sight."
Mantri Shamsher straightened his robes, bowed, and left without another word, a sinister smile playing on his lips as soon as his back was turned.
Left alone in the crushing silence, Yuvraj felt the walls closing in. His feet, moving on their own volition, carried him out of his room and down the deserted corridors towards his father's private chambers. He needed answers. He needed to see the lie in the Mantri's eyes.
But the King's chambers were empty.
His gaze then fell upon the door to his late mother's chambers, a room preserved exactly as she had left it. A place of solace. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air was still and fragrant with the sandalwood incense that had always been her favorite. His eyes went to the large, beautifully painted portrait of his mother, Maharani Meera. Her kind eyes and gentle smile, frozen in time, broke the dam within him.
"Maa," he choked out, stumbling towards the portrait. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the painted curve of her cheek. "I miss you so much." Tears he had been holding back since Mrinal's rejection finally streamed down his face. "Why did you leave me? Everyone else is leaving me, or... or betraying me."
As his fingers brushed the bottom of the ornate frame, a small, folded piece of parchment, yellowed with age, dislodged from where it had been tucked away and fluttered to the floor.
Wiping his tears, Yuvraj bent down and picked it up. It was a letter, written in his father's distinctive, bold script. The first line made his blood run cold.
"My dearest Meera, forgive me. My heart is heavy with a guilt I can never confess to you. There is a child, a boy named Karan. His mother is a servant, a momentary lapse that haunts my every waking hour. I cannot acknowledge him, for it would shatter you and our son, Yuvraj. But I cannot abandon my blood..."
The parchment slipped from Yuvraj's nerveless fingers. The world spun. Mantri Shamsher had not been lying. The truth was far more devastating than any lie could ever be. He stood there, in his mother's sacred space, the ghost of her love surrounding him as the reality of his father's betrayal carved a hollow emptiness in his chest. What was he to do now?