'I believe it was starvation. If fed adequately, she shall recover in about a week.'

'Make sure she doesn't leave the Mahal Guruji.'

footsteps shuffled and a door creaked shut.

Shivali opened her eyes and looked around. She seemed to be on a cot in the corner of a room with bare brick-coloured walls and a high roof. Except for the faded carpet covering the floor, a dewan opposite hers and a low stool beside her, the room had nothing that would leave an impression on its resident.

Shivali dragged her throbbing self up and against the wall. A window on the adjacent wall was seemingly shut with wooden planks, but wind passed through the gaps anyway and made her feel simultaneously hot and cold. Her skin burned as she withdrew into herself, resisting the urge to throw up.

She heard hurried, purposeful footsteps pass by her room. Men and women spoke in a grim and determined tone as they rushed to and fro. 

Noticing a bronze jar on the stool, she pulled it closer and poured some water into one of the tiny bronze glasses stacked up on it. She gulped the water in one go and immediately spit it out onto the carpet. Rubbing her neck she shoved the glass back onto the stool. Every breath rubbed like sandpaper against her throat.

As she clutched at her bedsheet, gulping painfully, the door opened again. A man walked in a white dhoti and white angavastram*, his greying hair tied carelessly in a low bun that fell over his shoulders. His wrinkled face grimaced when he stepped on the wet carpet.

'I see you are awake,' he declared in a surprisingly firm voice and handed her a steaming glass.

'I added ginger to help with nausea,' he provided.

Shivali held the hot glass delicately and gave it a sniff. It did smell like ginger, but she did not drink. The man walked back to the dewan beside the door, this time avoiding the dark wet patch on the carpet.

'You shall be provided with liquid intake hourly before moving on to solid food. I presume you have been starving?'

Shivali nodded slowly, eyeing sceptically both him and the glass in her hand.

'Devi Kanaka shall be your aid. She shall freshen you up.'

'Did you bring me here?' she asked. She was now taking deep breaths, letting the steam of the water reach her brain and calm it.

'His Majesty found you unconscious in the city,' the man said and leaned forward. 'Are you an acquaintance of his? Why did he bring you to the Mahal?'

'So wait, I'm in the fortress right now?' She almost spilled the water.

'Do drink it. Yes, you have been here since yesterday. This is the Royal Hospital. Oh!' He then exclaimed and laughed, smacking his head. 'I never introduced myself. I am Krishnadasa, the in charge around here.'

'Am I being held captive here?' 

The man Krishnadasa looked surprised. 'His Majesty has asked for you to be tended to properly.'

'Yeah, and to make sure I don't leave.'

Krishnadasa blinked.

'I heard it,' she pushed.

'That was not his majesty.'

Before further questions could be asked, a quick knock on the door disturbed them, and a woman entered, carefully holding a pot of steaming water with a cloth.

'Ah Vaidyaji you're here,' she smiled, placing it down on the carpet. 'You are being asked for by that general with the amputated leg. He is putting on quite a show.'

Krishnadasa sighed and got to his feet. 'This is Devi Kanaka, your aid, as I mentioned.'

With that and some instructions to have the carpet washed he left and Kanaka closed the door behind him.

She smiled at Shivali and motioned for her to finish her drink quickly. Then she rolled up the carpet, laid it by a wall and pulled the water to the center of the room. Shivali slowly sipped the ginger concoction, wincing as her throat burned. By the time she was done with it, her throat felt less like it was made of stone.

As an alternative to the carpet, Kanaka made her sit on the wooden stool and scrubbed her body with a rough cloth wet with the water. She wrapped around Shivali her green saree and tucked all the pleats skillfully. Finally, she gathered all of Shivali's short frizzy hair and twisted it into a tight little bun which was held together with a ribbon.

All done, Shivali felt better than she had in ages. Kanaka's firm yet gentle way of handing her reminded her of her mother.

Kanaka took her leave, saying she'd be back the next day, or anytime she was needed.

Shivali opened the window and sat on her dewan for a while, looking at another wall the window overlooked. Why wasn't she allowed outside the Mahal? She hadn't gotten the chance to ask Krishnadasa.

Still feeling lightheaded, she stepped out of her room.

The royal hospital was a wide single-story structure with a vast courtyard with a rectangular corridor running around it. The corridor led to many separate rooms similar to hers. The courtyard was made of large black stone tiles which seemed to physically emanate the summer heat, making the place hotter. Everywhere she walked, a faint aroma of leaves followed her. 

She peeped into a few open rooms. Most of the patients had large gashing wounds that were uncomfortable to look at. The women and men that Shivali assumed were the nurses were busy stitching up or tying up the wounds. Some men wearing attire similar to Krishnadasa's were spread around, talking to the nurses or the patients. The front corridor of the building was covered with red curtains, beyond which she could see some guards standing. In the distance, she could see mansions rising.

Unable to spot Krishnadasa, Shivali turned to return to her room when he appeared from inside one of the closed rooms on the opposite corridor. Tip-toeing past the courtyard she rushed up to him.

'Devi,' he greeted, surprised, as Shivali leaned against a pillar trying to stop her head from spinning.

'Are you suspicious of me?' She asked without returning his greeting.

'Why would you ask that?' 

'Because you were told not to let me escape by Ajay Pratap.'

Krishnadasa gasped and moved closer, frowning. 'If anything induces my suspicion in you, it would be your own brazen lack of respect.'

Before Shivali could retort, he walked past.

Shivali followed him, struggling to catch up to his brisk walk.

'Fine, his majesty. His majesty suspects me and so do you.'

'His majesty does not.'

'Well, you do then. But why? Why can't I leave the fortress?' Not that she wanted to, but she figured being held captive would not impress the king into letting him into his palace.

Krishnadasa did not answer. He stopped walking. She expected him to turn around and say something, but instead, he threw open the door before them. A strong stench overpowered her nose. On the outside, it was like every other room in the building. The inside was filled with ceramic jars of all shapes and sizes, covered up with white pieces of cloth. 

Krishnadasa walked into the room and began rummaging through the jars. Shivali stayed outside and observed. The jars were mostly filled with pastes of different consistencies. Finally, he picked up a tiny jar and walked out, stepping carefully through the other jars.

'So,' Shavali resumed once Krishnadasa came out and closed the door. 'If not his majesty, who was it that wants me kept here?'

But Krishnadasa had walked past her again. Annoyed, she turned around to follow him, but her head spun. Begrudgingly she acknowledged that she couldn't really leave either way. Starting to feel nauseous again, she staggered back to her room. Before she reached it though, Krishnadasa stopped her.

'His Majesty is here and wishes to meet you,' he informed. 'He is being escorted to your room.'

Shivali merely glared at him in response. She wasn't particularly angry at him. Maybe if she was in better condition, she might even have forced a polite reply.

But today when she returned to her room, having exhausted herself enough for the day, not having eaten proper food for three days, and saw the king with his royal robes falling perfectly into place and his easy but proud posture, it made her slam the door close on the way in.

She walked past him and flung down onto her dewan. Ajay Pratap looked at her expectantly.

'What?' She spat, louder than intended.

'Wh- What?' He frowned, about to say something else, but stopped and pinched his temples with a sigh.

'Are you being looked after properly?' 

Shivali nodded gruffly.

'Has your health improved?'

'What do you think?' She snarked and sat up straight. 'I have walked aimlessly like a madman for two days, then slept in the literal wild with god knows what I could've encountered. Then I faint because I starved for days and now I feel like throwing up all the time but I didn't even eat anything I can throw up.'

Ending her monologue she leaned back against her wall and closed her eyes. Her head was throbbing again.

'Well,' Ajay Pratap replied coolly. 'You will be better soon if you are not better now. I want to know why you were present near the river.'

Shivali gathered all the patience left in her. 'Why? Does the river also happen to be part of your esteemed majesty's private chambers?'

Ajay Pratap stood up and walked up to her. Shivali too got off the bed, trying to ignore her body crying in pain.

'You seem too articulate to be mad,' he concluded, his eyes flaring. 'It wouldn't be wrong for you to get punished for this behaviour.'

Shivali scoffed. 'I don't know what assumptions about me you have brought into this room. I couldn't care less what you think ought to be done with me. I feel exhausted and shitty, and none of this would've happened if you just listened to me that day and didn't kick me out.'

Ajay Pratap looked at her confused, all anger vanished.

'You feel what?' he asked, stepping back. She could see him stifle a smile.

'What?' she spat back, trying to remember what she had said.

'Fine,' he concluded finally. 'If you feel exhausted and- and shitty, was it? I shall leave you alone. And I suggest you have patience if you ever want to feel not shitty.'

On his way out, he almost walked into a file of women standing outside with trays of sweets, chakkalu and other savoury snacks.

'Seriously?' Both Shivali and Ajay Pratap said, Shivali with annoyance and Ajay Pratap with fake politeness.

While the king was refusing the food, Krishnadasa came up to the women and bowed to Ajay Pratap, who bowed in return.

'I wish you wouldn't refuse to come to my home, however humble it be,' Krishnadasa said.

'Today I am here for work. I would be honoured to visit you at your home, but even more so if you joined us at the evening feast.'

Krishnadasa smiled, almost coyly, at which Shivali cringed.

'But today, I wished to see you for work,' Ajay repeated.

'Of course, your majesty. If you give me one moment.'

Krishnadasa put another bronze glass on Shivali's stool. 'Lassi with lemon, for appetite.'

He then instructed the women to follow him and the file led by Krishnadasa departed for their meeting room.

Before leaving, Ajay Pratap peeped back into her room.

'Don't drink that,' he said.

Shivali stared uncomprehendingly.

'Just do not.'

Something in his expression made her pour the lassi outside the window after he left.

*Angavastram: a shoulder cloth worn by men in India, especially in Maharashtra and South India.