The room was still, the quiet hum of the night settling in like a shroud over the palace. I sat in the darkness, the only light a flickering oil lamp casting shadows on the walls. My thoughts were a tempest, swirling with a fury I couldn't quite contain.

Tara was gone.

The words echoed in my mind, a bitter reminder of my failure to keep her close, to protect her from the world—and, perhaps, from myself. I had underestimated her resolve, her strength. The woman who had once looked at me with love and trust now saw me as a jailer, a tyrant. I clenched my fists, the sting of her departure cutting deeper than any physical wound.

How could she leave like this? After everything, after all the promises and vows, how could she walk away?

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I knew who it was before I even called for them to enter.

Vedant stepped inside, his expression unreadable. His armor was dusty from the road, the faint scent of horse and sweat clinging to him. He stood before me, his head bowed slightly in deference.

"Maharaj," he began, his voice steady, but there was a tension beneath it that I immediately picked up on. "I have returned as you commanded."

I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of betrayal. Vedant was loyal and one of my most trusted men. If anyone could have brought Tara back, it would have been him. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw the truth before he even spoke.

"You failed," I said, my voice flat.

He swallowed, meeting my gaze directly. "Maharaj, I... I did as you asked. But Maharani—she was determined to leave. The Yuvraj's men were with her. They were ready to fight to protect her."

I rose from my seat, the rage I had been holding back boiling to the surface. "You let them go," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous.

Vedant didn't flinch, though his jaw tightened. "Maharaj, I could have forced her back, yes. But it would have cost lives—your wife's safety would have been compromised, and there is the child to consider."

I froze, my anger momentarily eclipsed by the mention of our child. Our child. My mind flashed to the image of Tara, her hand resting protectively on her stomach. I had been so consumed by my need to control, to keep her safe within these walls, that I had driven her away.

Vedant continued, his tone careful. "I allowed them to leave, but I told her that I would report that they overpowered us. This will buy you time to decide your next move, Maharaj. The Maharani is on her way to Indravathi. You know where she will be."

Indravathi. Her father's kingdom. A place she believed she would find safety, far from my reach. But she was wrong if she thought I would just let her go.

"Prepare the men," I ordered, my voice cold as I turned away from Vedant. "We march to Indravathi within the week. I need to speak to my wife's family."

Vedant hesitated, his eyes flicking to mine as if searching for something. "Maharaj, if I may speak freely..."

I raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to continue.

"Is this truly the path you wish to take? The Maharani is not an enemy, and Indravathi is a powerful ally. Marching there with an army could lead to war, and your child—"

"My child will be born in Aranyapura," I interrupted sharply. "Tara belongs here, with me. And if she thinks she can defy me, defy my will, she will learn otherwise. Indravathi may be an ally, but no one takes what is mine. Not even the Yuvraj."

Vedant's eyes darkened, but he nodded. "As you command, Maharaj."

He turned to leave, but I called him back, my voice softer now, though no less firm. "Vedant."

He paused, looking back at me.

"Make sure the battalion is prepared. But keep the preparations discreet. We don't need to alert Indravathi just yet."

Vedant inclined his head in acknowledgment before exiting the room, leaving me alone once more with my thoughts.

As the door closed behind him, I sank back into my chair, my mind racing with plans, strategies, and contingencies. Tara's betrayal stung deeply, but more than that, it fueled a fire within me. I would bring her back, no matter the cost. She was mine—our child was mine—and I would not let her escape so easily.

But as I sat there, in the quiet of the night, a small, nagging doubt crept into my mind. Would Tara ever truly be mine again? Had I pushed her too far, beyond the point of return?

The thought was unbearable, but it only steeled my resolve further. If she would not come back willingly, I would make her see reason. She would understand that leaving me was not an option, that her place was here, by my side, where she belonged.

I would bring her back, no matter what it took.

The game had changed, and now it was my move.

But as I stared into the dying embers of the fire, the flickering shadows on the walls seemed to whisper a different truth—a truth I refused to acknowledge. The love we had once shared was slipping through my fingers, and I couldn't help but wonder if, by the time I brought her back, there would be anything left to salvage.

The night wore on, and as dawn approached, I made my decision. I would march to Indravathi, I would reclaim what was mine, and I would remind Tara of the vows we made. I would do whatever was necessary to bring her back.

No matter the cost.

The first light of dawn crept into the room, casting a cold, grey hue over the walls. My decision was made, and as the sun rose, so did my resolve. Tara would return to Aranyapura, no matter what obstacles lay in my path. But just as I was about to rise from my chair, a knock at the door shattered the stillness of the moment.

Before I could even respond, the door creaked open, and Kanchana slipped into the room. Her presence was as unwelcome as a pestilence, her sharp, beady eyes gleaming with an eagerness that turned my stomach. She moved with a sickeningly smooth grace, her voice dripping with false sweetness as she spoke.

"Maharaj," she purred, her tone laced with a mockery she didn't even bother to conceal. "I heard about the Maharani's... unfortunate departure. Such a shame, isn't it?"

I suppressed a shudder of revulsion, fixing her with a cold stare. "What do you want, Kanchana?"

She fluttered her lashes in an exaggerated manner, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Why, I only wish to offer my services, Maharaj. I know how deeply you care for the Maharani, and I couldn't bear to see you in such distress. Surely, there must be something I can do to help?"

Her words were laced with insincerity, each syllable more grating than the last. I knew Kanchana well enough to understand that her offers of help were never without ulterior motives. She thrived on chaos and discord, always eager to insert herself into situations where she could manipulate and twist the outcome to her advantage.

"I don't need your help," I replied curtly, rising from my chair and moving to the window, where the pale light of morning was beginning to brighten the horizon. "The situation is under control."

Kanchana's expression faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered, her smile widening. "Oh, Maharaj, you underestimate my talents. Perhaps I could... persuade her to see reason, to return to you willingly?"

The idea of Kanchana anywhere near Tara made my blood boil. The thought of her insidious whispers filling Tara's ears, poisoning her mind, was unbearable. I turned to face her, my eyes narrowing with barely restrained anger.

"You will stay out of this, Rani Kanchana," I ordered, my voice sharp. "The Maharani is my concern and mine alone. Do not meddle in matters that do not concern you."

Kanchana's smile twisted into a thin line, her eyes flashing with a hint of something darker—resentment, perhaps, or frustration. But she quickly masked it, bowing her head in a show of false humility.

"Of course, Maharaj," she murmured, though her tone suggested anything but obedience. "I only wanted to help. After all, we wouldn't want any more unfortunate... incidents, would we?"

Her words hung in the air, a thinly veiled threat that only fueled my growing disgust. Kanchana thrived on sowing discord, and it was clear she saw Tara's departure as an opportunity to worm her way into my affairs. I would have to be vigilant—Kanchana's venomous presence was the last thing I needed as I prepared to confront Indravathi.

"Leave," I said, my patience with her fully depleted. "And do not come back unless I summon you."

Kanchana's smile returned, but it no longer reached her eyes. She bowed once more, the movement mocking in its exaggeration, before she slinked out of the room, leaving a trail of unease in her wake.

The room was still, the weight of Tara's departure pressing down on me. She was gone, and the thought of it festered in my mind, a constant reminder of how I had failed to keep her under my control. But dwelling on her absence would get me nowhere. I needed a plan—something decisive and ruthless, something that would remind everyone who was in charge.

I moved to the centre of the room, pacing with purpose as I considered my options. A direct march on Indravathi could lead to war, but a more subtle approach might yield better results. The Yuvraj was no fool, and confronting him directly could jeopardize the alliance we had built. But I needed to send a message, one that would echo throughout the region.

As I mapped out my strategy, the door opened again. This time, it wasn't Kanchana who entered—it was Rajan. His eyes were sharp, his expression as calculating as ever. Unlike Vedant, Rajan understood the intricacies of power and the delicate balance between fear and respect.

"Maharaj," Rajan said, bowing slightly. "You've called for me?"

"I need your counsel, Rajan," I replied, not wasting any time with pleasantries. "Tara has fled to Indravathi, and I intend to bring her back. But we cannot afford a war, not with my brother-in-law. What do you suggest?"

Rajan's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "Maharaj, if I may be so bold, Indravathi is a strong ally. But their strength lies not in their army but in their trade. A disruption in their trade routes could weaken them significantly. They rely heavily on our cooperation for safe passage. If we were to... create obstacles, it would force the Yuvraj to negotiate."

I nodded slowly, considering his words. It was a cunning plan, one that would apply pressure without drawing swords. "And what of Tara? How do we ensure her return?"

Rajan's lips curved into a sly smile. "The Yuvraj loves his sister dearly, but even he would not risk the prosperity of his kingdom for her sake. If we control the trade, we control him. And in turn, we control her."

I felt a surge of satisfaction at his suggestion. It was a plan worthy of a king—a plan that would remind Tara and the Yuvraj of the consequences of defying me.

"Begin the preparations," I ordered. "I want our men in position by the end of the week. Make sure the disruptions are noticeable but not overt. I want the Yuvraj to feel the pressure, not see the knife."

Rajan bowed again, his expression one of absolute confidence. "As you command, Maharaj."

As he left the room, I returned to the map, my mind already calculating the next steps. Tara had chosen to defy me, but she would learn the price of her defiance. I would bring her back, not with brute force, but with the precision of a master tactician. And when she returned, she would understand that there was no escape from me.

No more crying, no more doubts. It was time to act. The game had changed, and now it was time to show them all why I was the king.