The moment I saw him, I felt my heart seize—Anshuman, here in Indravathi, standing brazenly in the hall, dressed like one of the diplomats he so often scorned. His sharp gaze found mine in the sea of courtiers, and for the briefest instant, the world fell silent. My stomach churned with emotions I had spent weeks suppressing. Fury. Grief. Love, bitter and jagged, like a forgotten relic that cuts your hand when touched.

But I didn't flinch. The court watched me, and I could not afford to show weakness.

His words were a dagger sheathed in diplomacy. My instincts screamed at me to reject him, but the pragmatist in me knew we had to talk. I had spent weeks outplaying him, predicting his moves, countering his strategies. Now he was here, forcing my hand. I nodded curtly, leading him to the anteroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, the pretence fell away, and the quiet tension suffocated us both.

"What do you want, Maharaj Anshuman?" I demanded, arms crossed to steady myself. His presence was unbearable—too close, too raw. And yet a part of me, treacherous and hidden, wanted to listen.

"How are you?" he asked, moving closer to cup my face.

"As happy as a free woman can be," I moved back, "speak your purpose of dressing up as a diplomat you so easily scorn."

His reply surprised me, "I want you back. Not as a prisoner. As my queen, as you have always been."

I bit back a sharp retort, my heart racing. How dare he come here with empty promises? After everything, he expected me to forget? But he continued, his voice carrying something unfamiliar. Vulnerability. "I've come to offer a compromise."

A compromise. The word hung in the air between us, dangerous and tempting. His desperation to make amends was palpable, but I could still see the shadows of the man who had torn us apart.

"You think this can be solved with a few words?" I scoffed, my voice harsher than I intended.

"No," he admitted, his gaze locking onto mine, unyielding. "But I believe in us. I believe there's still something between us worth saving."

I felt my defences cracking. Damn him. He always knew how to find the cracks in my armour.

"And what makes you think I would return willingly?" I asked though the question felt more like a plea to myself than a demand for him.

"Because I know you," he said softly, stepping closer. "I know you still care for me beneath the anger and defiance. I'm asking you to return not because you must but because you want to. Because our child deserves both its parents."

Our child. The words tore through me, stirring an ache I hadn't dared acknowledge.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how selfish he was. He thought bringing up our unborn child would change everything? But his words had ignited something in me. Not the love I once felt for him, but a deeper, more complicated truth.

I didn't want to raise our child alone. But I also couldn't forget what he had done.

Before I could respond, a firm knock on the door interrupted us. I turned, grateful for the reprieve, and saw one of my father's guards standing at the threshold, his expression tense.

"Rajkumari-ji(Princess), Yuvraj Hemant of Rudravaya, has arrived. He seeks an audience."

I froze, my pulse quickening. Hemant. Father had summoned him weeks ago, hoping for his support. He was one of the few powerful enough to rival Anshuman—both in strength and influence. His arrival had been expected, but not today. Not in this precarious moment.

Anshuman stiffened at the mention of Hemant's name, his eyes darkening with suspicion. "Yuvraj Hemant? You've called him here?"

I didn't answer immediately. Hemant had been a trusted ally to my family, someone who had helped secure trade agreements and military support in the past. But I knew what Anshuman was thinking. Hemant's loyalty came at a cost, and I could already feel the weight of his unspoken expectations.

"Yes," I said finally, my voice steady. "My father called him. You don't get to dictate who I align with anymore, Anshuman."

His jaw clenched, and momentarily, I saw the man I had once loved warring with the ruler who saw alliances as moves on a chessboard.

Hemant entered the room with the confidence of someone who had never known fear. His dark eyes swept the space, lingering on me and then on Anshuman before a slow, calculating smile curled his lips. He was taller than I remembered, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as though he could command the very air.

"Rajkumari Nayantara," Hemant greeted me and bowed slightly, his voice smooth, but there was an underlying weight to his words. "I heard you were in need of assistance."

"Your timing is impeccable," I said, though the tension between Anshuman and Hemant was palpable.

Anshuman took a step forward, his body taut with unspoken challenge. "This isn't your business, Yuvraj Hemant."

Hemant's smile didn't falter, but his eyes hardened. "It is now. I protect my allies."

His words struck a nerve, and I watched as Anshuman's hands flexed by his sides, his temper barely held in check. This was exactly what I feared—a collision of wills between the two most dangerous men I knew. And I was caught in the middle.

"I didn't call you to settle old rivalries," I said, stepping between them, forcing calm into my voice. "I called you because I need support. Indravathi needs support."

Hemant's gaze flickered to me, softening slightly. "And you shall have it, Rajkumari. Whatever you need."

There was something in his tone—an offer laced with an unspoken promise. He was staking a claim, not just to Indravathi's future, but to me.

Anshuman's eyes narrowed. "Tara doesn't need your protection, Yuvraj Hemant. She has me."

The room fell silent. Hemant and Anshuman stared at each other, two powerful forces at odds.

The air crackled with tension as Hemant stepped forward, his presence commanding. "You've turned this place into a battlefield, Maharaj Anshuman, but I refuse to let you drag Rajkumari Nayantara into your games." His voice was steady, laced with authority.

Anshuman's eyes narrowed. "This doesn't concern you, Hemant. You've overstayed your welcome."

"Oh, but I just arrived," Hemant replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "The Rajkumari is my ally, and I will not stand by while you play puppet master with her life. You think you can manipulate her feelings and the kingdom without consequence?"

Anshuman's posture stiffened. "You don't know the lengths I've gone to for this kingdom. You're just a pawn trying to stake your claim."

"A pawn?" Hemant scoffed, crossing his arms defiantly. "I am not the one who's bent the rules to suit my desires. You've orchestrated this chaos, all to reel your wife back in, and it's disgraceful. You've manipulated trade routes, undermined alliances, and for what? To prove that you can control everything?"

"Enough!" Anshuman shot back, his voice rising. "You don't understand the stakes here. I'm trying to protect what's mine."

"Protect?" Hemant echoed incredulously. "You're destroying everything in your path. You think trapping her in a corner will make her love you? You're mistaken. All you've done is show her how weak you truly are. You've turned her into your hostage."

I felt the intensity of their rivalry radiate through the room, both men unwilling to back down.

Anshuman's expression darkened, and he stepped closer to Hemant, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. "You think you can come here, swaggering in with your misplaced sense of nobility, and challenge me? You don't know what I'm capable of."

"Oh, I know exactly what you're capable of," Hemant replied, his voice low but steady. "You've shown your true colours, Maharaj Anshuman. You've sacrificed trust and loyalty on the altar of your ambition. You think you're strong, but all I see is desperation."

Anshuman clenched his fists, but Hemant pressed on, undeterred. "You need to understand that you can't control Rajkumari Nayantara's heart. She's stronger than you give her credit for. She will never return to you out of fear or manipulation. It's not love, it's a prison."

"You don't know her like I do," Anshuman snapped, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. "I know what she needs. I can give her everything."

"Everything?" Hemant's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You mean the illusion of power and the destruction of her home? That's not what she wants. You've blinded yourself to the truth, Maharaj. You're only serving your own needs. Your own selfishness."

The tension between them was palpable, a silent clash as they circled each other, both unwilling to yield.

"Let's be honest," Hemant said, his voice slicing through the charged atmosphere. "You're afraid. Afraid of losing control, afraid of losing your wife, and it shows. You've lost sight of what truly matters—this kingdom, her well-being. You've sacrificed too much for your own ego."

Anshuman's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. The silence that followed felt heavy, almost suffocating, as if the very air was charged with unspoken accusations.

"I've watched you manipulate everyone around you," Hemant continued, his tone relentless. "But you can't manipulate love, Maharaj. You think this game of thrones will win her back, but all you're doing is pushing her further away. And trust me, when she sees the truth, she won't look back."

I felt the weight of their words crashing around me, the reality of my situation pressing down like a heavy fog. Anshuman was a master manipulator, yes, but Hemant was right: manipulation would never equate to love.

Finally, Anshuman broke the silence, his voice low but fierce. "You think you can just waltz in here and stake your claim? You're underestimating me. I've built an empire, and I won't let anyone—especially not you—stand in my way."

"An empire built on lies isn't an empire at all," Hemant retorted, his voice cutting. "It's a house of cards waiting to collapse. And I'll be damned if I let you drag Rajkumari Tara down with you."

I stepped forward, the fire of their rivalry igniting something within me. "Enough! This isn't a game. You both need to understand that your battles won't resolve anything. Anshuman, you need to accept the consequences of your actions. And Yuvraj Hemant, while your intentions are noble, you can't fight his battles for me."

They both turned to me, the weight of their rivalry hanging heavily in the air. I felt the tension, the unresolved conflict, but I also felt something else—a sense of clarity. I wouldn't be a pawn in their fight. I was done being manipulated by either of them.

"I will decide my own future," I declared, my voice steady. "And it won't be dictated by fear or obsession. Not anymore."