See beyond the illusions, mighty soldier. Don't tear down the city that harbours your love.

****

Dilrobar pattered around and called Indumala's name frantically as she searched for the bodyguard in every corner of the palace. The servants eyed her with suspicion. They refused to tell her if they had seen the Rajan's comrade going somewhere. Dilrobar didn't yet know Indumala's room, and everyone just ignored her questions.

She was more unwanted than the Rajan. It wasn't even in her nature anymore to punish their audacity. She was too weak for that; she knew she deserved this treatment. It was a lifetime of thorny words and cold gestures.

Then, Dilrobar recalled. Indumala wasn't given a room in the Abode of Grace but a place close to the Rajan's own quarters. So, she went back, crossing the room of Rudra from where still sniffling noises came to her sharp ears, and then marched towards the opposite direction. Some of the rooms were locked. She knocked on the rest, calling the name of Indumala. "She isn't here," a reply came from inside every single time.

Finally, Dilrobar stood in front of a room with the door left ajar. She knew it would be ill-mannered, but she tried to take a peek in, hoping to not catch the glimpse of something not meant for her to see. Dilrobar lifted up her veil a little, and there she was– Indumala, curled into a fetal position. Her body shook slightly. The spear lay on the floor. She was crying.

Dilrobar knocked. Indumala sat up with a jerk. She glowered at Dilrobar. "Why are you here?" Her voice was broken but her spirit wasn't. Dilrobar stepped into the room and closed the door. Indumala sprang up from the bed and stood with her hands on the hips. "You aren't welcome here."

"Indumala, just listen to me once–"

"I am not going to hear a lecture from you out of all the people in the world."

"We need to talk–"

"I won't."

"Indu," Dilrobar raised her voice by a miniscule, "now you are acting same as the Rajan. No difference lies between you two."

Dilrobar's words hit a spot in Indumala's heart. She panted and huffed, ruffling her thick hair. Sitting beside the enraged girl, Dilrobar spoke, "I haven't ever felt the need to explain my situation to anyone. Not because I am haughty, but because I know they wouldn't understand and maybe if they do, they can try to endanger me more." She heaved a sigh. "I am not being a liar when I say this– the day I first saw you, I was filled with admiration. You are a woman who inspires. Such a young lady and still you command respect from the whole of Ishgar, and soon Aryavarta will know you too."

Indumala glanced at her. "Well, thank you." She didn't want to be judgemental. Maybe this veiled woman really liked her, even if she didn't reciprocate the same feelings. "But come to the point."

"You misunderstand me, Indumala. Like everyone in the palace does. I really can't help changing their minds and maybe I shouldn't do it now. But I must tell you what is the truth."

"What is the truth?"

Dilrobar fidgeted nervously. "I know how you all think of me. You see me as a whore–"

"I have come from a land of veshyas."

"Let me speak!" Dilrobar bit her lips and clutched the bedsheets. "You all see me as someone who sells her body to the Rajan out of will, not out of a compulsion like veshyas. You see me as someone who is a toy. And I can tell by your gaze that you agree to what I say."

Indumala's pupils dilated. "So you can see clearly even from behind the veil."

"I am habituated to this."

Indumala crossed her arms. "Yes. I agree I perceived you no different from all the usual women who run after luxuries and are ready to do anything for it. Though, as time went by and I saw more colours of the palace, I began doubting my perception."

Dilrobar's heart was given a bounty of hope. "What do you see me as now?"

"You are a mere mystery to me. I have questions regarding you... You are a rescued one, isn't it?"

"Yes. Did Lord Devanj tell you?"

"Kind of. I learnt that all the women who live here, at least most, were victims at some point of their life. They were brought here in the lap of safety."

"I can't say I was a victim exactly. I was more of a sinner going through the repercussions of their deeds. I was suffering for my wrongdoings. Alas, in the moment where help was shining bright at the end of the tunnel, I decided to crawl there, and seek shelter. I received one, in this palace under the Rajan, albeit after much hardships."

Indumala was surprised by how Dilrobar saw her own self. It was rather negative and self-critical. She was demeaning her own worth. "I am a good listener. Not to a tantrum throwing Rajan. If anyday you want to share with me your past, I am here to lend a ear."

Dilrobar's chukle was dour and dismal. "He needs an ear more than me, Indu. I can tell my part of the story someday, but before that know the tale of your Rajan. He will himself one day open up to you, I am sure." Dilrobar kept her palm over Indumala's. "You need to know who I am really to the Rajan. Forgive me if it's vague, because fate would choke me if I say too much, but it has given me the freedom to tell what I can."

Indumala looked at their hands, one above the other. She was warm to touch, soft to feel. Then, something caught her eye– a glowing ring amidst several rings wounded around her fingers. That ring was familiar to Indumala. By the grace of Shiva, she didn't have to put much pressure on her mind to recall it. She knew instantly where she had seen it– the day when she was drunk and a stranger woman had come to her.

She was none other than Dilrobar, speaking about herself and Indumala. Dilrobar's words, ringing in her ears, made her heart carol, although the reason was still a puzzle.

"I am neither a romantic interest nor a friend of the Rajan," Dilrobar confessed. "It is a lie we fabricated to give a solid reason behind me using a veil, and to guard me from unnecessary attention that comes from me visiting him often. Of course, the Rajan can go as far as making his woman veiled to ensure others didn't behold her– so the seers declared," she scoffed. "My tarnished reputation further enhanced my safety. Kings didn't want to conquer a woman who was not even considered valuable, in terms of equality, by the Rajan. So they made me look like I was just here, trying my best to seduce, but failing miserably."

Indumala squinted. It was a lot to gulp down but her doubts were confirmed. Something was fishy about this woman's existence. "It's complicated, I see that. But at the end of the day, who are you to the Rajan?"

"I am an ally he didn't want to have but now has to compromise with."

"An ally?"

"Yes. I know it's foggy right now and you might be having more questions. Alas, this is all I can say at present. What I do as an ally for him is a story for another day."

It was a hush tranquility, rather odd and unexpectedly snug, that was planted between the women. Indumala weighted the sincerity of her words and realised she was being truthful. There was no reason to be dubious about the claims of Dilrobar. And yes, Indumala was new here, fresh in the palace, so it would take time for the other secrets to eventually befriend her confidence.

"When I say I am enamoured by you, know my respect is possibly deeper than I can comprehend. Ishgar will lionise you soon and then Aryavarta. I am a mere helpless woman, Indu, and I can't help but look up to you."

"It is embarrassing. I am much younger to you, am I not? It's very awkward to know you admire me."

"Age doesn't matter, and don't ask a woman her age," Dilrobar wiggled her finger. "They are forever youthful."

"Still, you have been in the palace for more time than me. You are close to the Rajan–"

"I am just an ally. It's a deal, Indu. I am not close to him or will ever be. I am not his friend."

"I suppose no one wants to be his friend. Don't tell me he behaves roughly with you. Though I won't be shocked after what happened today," she croaked, unshed tears swimming in her eyes. "He is so very inconsiderate of feelings. I just wanted to see if he was fine. I was worried for him."

You always were, Indu. Dilrobar shifted closer to the girl and allowed Indumala to rest her head on her shoulder. "Don't cry. He is going through a lot, but I am sure he will understand one day that he needs to treat you better."

"I wonder how Baba endures this stupid man."

"It's so nice that you can call him stupid. I am looking forward to the day when he happily accepts those words coming out of your lips."

"He is a rascal."

"Good going, Indu. Vent it out."

Indumala sniffed back her tears. "I like it when someone calls me Indu. It feels loving."

Dilrobar wiped her tears and kissed her knuckles. "You are precious, Indu. The Rajan will know this one day. I hope you aren't troubled by the fact anymore?"

"What fact?"

"About me and the Rajan. Know that nothing is going to ever happen between us. He hates me with a passion and I crouch at his might."

Indumala blushed. "Why would I care?"

"Sometimes it's good if you accept you cared. You did, even if unintentionally."

Indumala deflated, her shoulders slumping. "I was upset, as a friend. But I am not after that man. He is callous."

"He needs to work a lot if he wants to match your standards."

"Not that I expect anything or wish to have a heart that is swooning after him."

Dilrobar grinned. "You will give his ego a blow. But be honest, Indu, isn't he handsome? You cannot deny that."

Indumala whimpered and covered her mouth, becoming self-conscious. Her cheeks crimsoned even further. "Yes. We can't deny. He is very tall too."

"You should see him fighting one day. Though that scares me, I am sure you will like it as a warrior." She was going to stand and take a leave, but Indumala grabbed her hand. "Anything you want to say?"

Indumala's gaze softened. Dilrobar caught her breath, submerging in the uncanny warmth of those eyes. She knew them, from when Indumala was someone different. Someone totally contrasting her present personality.

"If you don't mind, can you tell me why you walk around veiled?" Indumala asked. Dilrobar's hands turned rigid and cold. Indumala could feel the deadly chill, so she freed her. "I am sorry. It was too private, I understand–"

Without another thought, Dilrobar threw off her veil, revealing her face.

Indumala was awestruck by her emerald eyes. They glinted like true gemstones. She had the aura of a feline tigress, her monolid eyes so serrated they could cut through ice. But what made Indumala's heart freeze was the burnt spot on the left of her face.

The skin was wrinkled and had a complexion different to that of the natural copper tone. A faint livid mark ran down her cheek. It was once a prey of fire, now healed to a scar.

"You... You were burnt?" Indumala winced, breathing heavily as the memories of nightmares came back. Was this the woman whom she saw in those nightmares?

"I was burnt yes, but didn't jump in the fire like the girl of your visions," Dilrobar said. "Yes, I know you see them. Pardon me, I cannot enlighten you how I received that knowledge."

Indumala felt being strangled by the throat. The smothering sensation released her after an exhale. "Everyone from this palace is a mystery."

"You are an enigma too, Indu. You will know why, one day."

"Who did this to you?"

"Someone did. And not unless I get to have their severed head on my lap shall I stop using the veil," Dilrobar declared with ire. "It is a vow that I have made."

She went for the door, pulling down her veil before leaving. "I am your ally too, Indu. You can count me in." The chiming of her bangles died down with time.

Indumala sat on the bed with a thump, watching the sun journey back down from where it had risen.

****

The bathhouse was now Rudra's cocoon, where he could be by himself and think alone. Soaking in the hot water, he felt the ripples hug his skin and relax his tight muscles. He lolled back his head, his array of thoughts going back to just one name.

Indumala.

"Maybe I did act rash."

No, he wasn't convinced by the fact that she was his mate. He would let his wolf growl and protest, but he could never see that bodyguard as his future queen. He wouldn't allow anyone but Petra to enjoy his romantic love.

"But I shouldn't have shouted at her. She left away crying."

Rudra always found himself showing his worst to the most delicate and sensitive people. Even if Indumala was a mage and strength was in her bones, she was a woman with a heart, unlike him. He was a monster who did everything through too much vigour and violence, forgetting the need of a softer behaviour.

He stroked the surface of the water, gently feeling the lotus petals that floated above. The steam tickled his skin. "I need to keep a distance from her so that my wolf doesn't get excited. It can choose its mate, but I won't accept it. I have the right to deny."

After the bath, he went behind a partition kept for changing. He wiped his body and wore the clothes that the servants had left for him. While he changed, a blouse came to his attention.

He took it up and examined the texture. It was smooth and silky, with pink flowery patterns stitched all over. There were motifs of peacocks with their pretty wings in display. He smiled at the beauty of the garment.

The guards bowed to him as he left the bathhouse and then walked towards his room. He needed to rest. He was so very drained and feeling low. Life gave him unpleasant surprises all the time.

He opened the door to his room. Luckily, Devanj had gone, so he could have some time to himself. The sunset had paved way for a purple evening.

"I need to ask Dilrobar if she knows whose this garment is. They forgot it–"

Obliviously he brought the garment close to his nose. It was maybe a reflex, or intuition, something which led to a throng of emotions quake inside his mind.

The smell. Rudra knew this smell. It was etched in his mind like a prayer song, like an ode to love, like the only nourishment of a beggar.

The windows rattled with gusts of wind. A storm was coming to Ishgar.

After the string of curses, it never rained in Ishgar for more than thrice a year. This was going to be an unlikely event– the fourth shower of rain.

One curse was broken. Two were left.

Rudra gasped and fell to his knees.

Petra. The blouse smelled of Petra.