Perfection is illusionary.

****

It was getting colder every passing moment, and yet Aryamna was not returning.

Ishvara was asked to sleep, but peace did not come to her eyes. Not after she set foot on Revat. This place got on her nerves. The amount of injustice she had seen while coming to the palace proved it right. The fact that this place was connected to her past, maybe even was a possible home, made it even more disgusting. She winced and shivered, clutching the bedsheets in vexation.

But she had to be strong.

"Ashes don't burn a second time."

She paced across the room. He had left abruptly when a man came and informed him of something unsettling. Aryamna had strictly instructed her to not unlock the door unless a man came and tapped four consecutive times and then addressed her as 'Devi'. Only then was she supposed to open the door.

He didn't even allow her to be at dinner. Her food was sent to the room, and all day since arrival she was stuck here. She didn't expect any other corner of the palace to be more comfortable and appealing, but to be caged in one room was annoying.

And then there was this insatiable desire to know what was once, what constituted the truth. If this place instilled fear in her, then she had to get to the root of it.

She was the wife of a Senapati, after all. If she considered her returning memories, she could have been a very haughty woman, if not courageous. She was a princess by birth and the lover of a Rajan, who now due to circumstances still unknown hid his real identity and name.

"Of course Aryam is trying to protect me because he knows Revat harmed me in the past." Ishvara rubbed her chin. "He is afraid."

It stirred up her anxiety to such an overwhelming pitch that she decided to unlock the door and venture outside.

A gust of wind brushed her face. The touch was so icy and cruel. The emptiness reeked of ghastly memories, flashing across her vision like a phantom. There were few guards and she walked where her eyes took her, tugging simply at her intuition. She saw the paintings of a man enjoying in a brothel, waging war and standing equal to god. She perceived it to be the Rajan of Revat, whom she had not yet seen.

Or have I? She wondered.

The guards didn't stop her from exploring the palace. They simply glanced at her surreptitiously. It didn't agitate her worries, or even if it did, her strength was mightier to ignore the words 'do not go there, Ishvara'. Coming to a halt in front of a staircase, she looked back to see no sign of a human. Where had the guards gone? It couldn't have been her imagining. She wasn't that sickly of mind. Her memories were returning and she was healing very well. Even though it required for her to go through old, unpleasant wounds.

The flight of stairs invited her. Stepping on one, it creaked and made a moaning sound. Ishvara was apprehensive of it cracking and making her crash. She took small, alert steps, looking back once every while. And then when she was done halfway, turning back didn't matter at all as the stairs behind her drowned in thick waves of darkness. The steps swirled and curved, stopping at the door of a room. Surprisingly, it was not bolted, although the cobwebs pointed at negligence.

With a deep breath, Ishvara went inside.

The air was heavy with the musty fragrance of time-forgotten splendour. Walls showcased peeling layers of faded paint, revealing the passage of time. Trunks spilled with tattered clothes, now nibbled on by mice. A bed, adorned with dirty silk, stood as a ghostly sentinel in the room, its posts weathered by years of solitude. Ishvara heaved a sigh. "No one took care of it in my absence."

She traced the dust on the window sill and the black spots on the walls. It hit her then, what she had just said.

So this was my abode.

Then, was this her home or Ishgar? Her heart said Ishgar was always her home, but people had once forced her to accept this place too.

On the bed was a portrait covered in a white cloth. She hesitated initially, then pulled it to her gaze. Unraveling it made her gasp.

It was her portrait.

Bedecked in costly rubies and emeralds, a heavy pearl necklace dangling on her neck, she looked befitting for a queen. Her hair was elaborately done. Her features, unlike now, where sharper, with a jawline that could cut the hearts of men into halves. Her figure was slender.

Even though she knew it was herself, the eyes looked drastically different. Ishvara took the portrait and stood in front of the cracked and clouded mirror. The ornate silver reflected her face. Yes, the eyes were the same, although now Ishvara had more warmth. The one in the portrait looked conceited and tired at the same time, as if the pride was a way to dissolve the pain.

"Roaming around on your own, Nadira?"

At first, Ishvara thought it was one of those voices in her head, the one that belonged to the man whom she would see beside the beastly Aryam. The one nightmare she had left in order to embrace another. The one whom her mother Ranavato wanted her to marry.

She didn't look back and stared at the portrait, focusing on bringing back any memories.

"I ain't a ghost, Nadira. I am alive, look at me."

Now, she was sure it wasn't unreal. Goosebumps trailed on her skin. She slowly craned her neck. "Who are you?"

The man came out of the masterful darkness and stood in all his regal glory. "Rajan Hamal the Second."

Ishvara's heart stopped beating. For moments she was unable to feel her breath. Then the blood rushed through her veins, heating up her ears and making her sweat. Her heart banged against the ribcage. Whether the name or the face made her freeze, she couldn't exactly pinpoint.

But this was the same face she had seen in all those visions of the past. It was the same man she had been running away from, the spectre that now turned into solid reality.

Within moments glimpses of her troubled childhood came hurling. The screams that left her soul when she would hear his footsteps near the door, his cacophonous laughter at seeing her so frightened. The way his ruthless eyes even now undressed her, just like back in the days. Each time she was made to stand in front of him, allow him to smell her, even against her wish. Each time her mother rebuked her for not marrying this man. Each time she escaped just because of her father Madhavan.

And one day, Madhavan was dead, and in his place came Aryam. The memories didn't flow beyond this for now.

She grew up around this man, him a witness to her changing body and evolving beauty. But how could he be living even now, despite no sign of ageing? Was he immortal? He could have been the descendant of the one she was thinking about. He did say his name was Hamal the Second, so there were other people before him.

Hamal was a name she instantly dreaded.

"How do you know my name is Nadira?"

"It is unfortunate that you have forgotten me. Although I can't blame you. Yours is a rebirth too, just like mine."

So he knows about my amnesia. She swallowed. "What rebirth are you talking about?"

"That I have come back, my past recollections intact. It's not the same as yours, because your death is more metaphorical than physical. You never died, just went into a deep slumber." He tilted his head. "I remember you, Nadira, even though I shouldn't have."

Ishvara frantically looked around. She tried to slip past him and escape, but the man blocked her. "Why run away? I thought we could talk. It's been years since I last saw you."

"You...you know me?"

"I do. I know everything about you. If you need any help, I can–"

"I don't need any help." Hamal took her palm, but Ishvara yanked herself away. "Don't."

Hamal bowed. "Pardon me, my princess, but it's just that I feel things haven't changed between us."

"Wha-what things?"

"We were supposed to be companions, Nadira. But you chose another."

He is talking about Aryam. So does he know that Aryam and Aryamna are the same?

"Although," he continued, "you aren't with him even now. Does it hurt you to realise that your former lover, the most loved Rajan in the history of Aryavarta, is dead? And that you now must make a home with a low-born warrior, whose parentage is as obscure as a foggy night?"

"I don't know my parents as well."

"You do. You remember them. Madhavan, another Rajan of Aryavarta, and Ranavato, the slave whom he married out of pity, perhaps."

"I am happy with what I have now," she replied tartly. "I have a wonderful family. It's all I can ask for."

Hamal put a fist over his heart. "It blisters and burns me to see you, such an ambitious soul, fall to such poor humility." He walked closer to her, forcing her back to hit the wall. "I can pull you back at the heights, Nadira. I have the capability to give you everything. Name it, just."

"Then allow me to leave," she stammered. Her chest heaved up and down, raspy breaths stretching the piled up fear. "I-I am married."

"I am making a polite offer. I am not forcing myself onto you. I never did that."

"As it should be. I am happy with another man and–"

"Who knows, Aryamna may die just like Aryam? Their names are too similar, so maybe their fates will be too. You are a golden child, Nadira, and you need to be with–" He paused, his eyes glinting with jinxed mischief. "I forgot, Aryamna is different. Just like me."

Ishvara stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Aryamna is like me, Nadira. Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Hamal smirked. "Do you know that Rudra is cursed?"

Ishvara's eyes widened. "What?"

"He is. He was cursed by your mother Ranavato to be an immortal monster. He is a werewolf, not a human. Just like I am not a human. Just like Aryamna–"

"Ah, I could hear you from outside, Rajan Hamal."

The Rajan of Revat snapped at the voice. The two arms that had blocked Ishvara in her place retreated, falling helplessly beside its owner. "Aryamna." Hamal gritted his teeth. "Welcome."

Ishvara matched her gaze with the Senapati. He didn't smile. He didn't care to hide his anger, his disappointment. The glare said it all. She hung her head, suddenly feeling guilty of her rash behaviour.

"Didn't you tell your wife...?"

"Tell her what, Rajan Hamal?"

"That you are above ordinary, well, if I have to phrase it in a beautiful way."

"She knows I am special, and I always will be special to her."

"Poor man. Only if you knew her past–" Hamal zipped his lips. "Nevermind. I think both of you keep secrets from each other. Such a nice game. Wonderful display of trust."

Aryamna's knuckles turned pale from the inhuman grasp. His thumb ran over the edge of the spear. "I would appreciate if you do not come in between me and my wife."

"I wish I could have said that." Hamal chuckled. "Wouldn't it have been amazing, Nadira? Envision yourself as the Maharani of Revat– such a royal dream. Oh, don't mind, Aryamna! Your wife is so pretty that anyone would love to befriend her."

"I wish I could say the same about your wife, but she only invites sympathy from me."

"We can keep her out of the topic."

"How about your wife meets mine? That would be a great day, isn't it?"

Hamal squinted. Green veins popped out on his meaty arms. "You seem to know more than you let known."

Aryamna shrugged. "I might."

"My wife doesn't like to meet people. She loves solitude."

"I think you missed the point, Rajan Hamal." Aryamna closed the distance and stared daggers at him. "If you think it's necessary for my wife to, you know, not keep secrets, and if you feel like she is in search of answers, then your wife will be the perfect candidate to help her out. She knows everything, just like you."

Hamal's lips quivered into a sly smile. "Clever. How do you know? You shouldn't have..."

"I am a good mage."

"I think I would love to know more about you someday."

"Gladly. Now, excuse me. Me and my wife will return to our room."

"Nah." Hamal held Ishvara by the hand. "I need to talk to her."

"It's late, Rajan Hamal. Decency says you must change tastes."

"If you know so much," Hamal twisted Ishvara's hand, causing her to yelp," you should know what is my most favourite."

Aryamna pierced his spear into the bones of the Rajan in one go, making the latter free Ishvara. Blood splattered on the ancient carpet below. Aryamna's eyes reddened beyond normalcy, glittering in the dead of the night like two gemstones. "Keep your hands to yourself."

Hamal's arm healed on its own, the wounds closing magically. Ishvara was shocked. "How come that happened?" She looked at Aryamna for an answer.

The Senapati bared his teeth at the Rajan, then dragged Ishvara out. Unlike his usual affectionate gestures, this time his hold was uncaring and merciless, ignorant of how it left a mark on Ishvara's wrist. She was reminded of how years back Aryam had done the same thing.

Aryamna locked the door to their room and threw the spear on the ground. Ishvara stood lost in the middle of the mess. "Aryamna, I–"

He raised a hand, silencing her. "Go to sleep. We can talk later."

"Aryamna, listen to me–"

"Just shut up."

It was the first time after their marriage that Aryamna shouted at her.

Ishvara teared up. Anger flared inside her as much as beliefs mourned in sadness. Trembling lips pursed themselves. She turned back from him, vowing to not speak.

Aryamna groaned. "I-I didn't mean to. We can talk later. I understand there's a lot to discuss."

Ishvara didn't respond. She wasn't going to. He wanted her quiet and she would be as silent as death.

"You are not going to reply?" He walked up to her, gently grabbing her arm. She didn't protest or move away, but neither did she face him. "You know my anger is justified."

"How come you are so entitled? Is it in your blood?"

"Listen, Ishvara," Aryamna's voice was uncanny and cold, "you have hidden a lot from me. I have given you enough time, because I understand you need them. But when I tell you something, you must follow it. When I asked you to not leave your room, you should have obeyed."

"Why should I obey you?"

"I am your husband, Ishvara."

A smacking slap landed on Aryamna's cheek. It burnt his sizzling skin, already on the fire of wrath.

"I am not going to listen to you just because you are my husband. Prove that you are capable of having the upper hand."

"Don't anger me."

"What are you going to do?" Ishvara's voice shook like a lone autumn leaf on a barren branch. "Hit me? Torture me?"

"I can."

"Do it. All men are the same–"

He took both her hands and pinned them above her hand and sucked on her lips. His breath was warm and grunts escaped in the heat of rage. Ishvara moved away her face, unwilling to take part in it, but Aryamna grabbed her by the neck and forced her to drink him. Gathering her strength, Ishvara pushed him back. "Don't."

Aryamna wiped his lips. "I will. A hundred times. I will till I die."

"Why are you so crazy?"

Ishvara realised his erratic breaths were transforming into sobs. His eyes flooded with tears. He sat on the bed, covering his face. "I want you, Ishvara. And you don't understand it."

Oh, so that is your thirst.

Ishvara unbuttoned her robes and roughly fell on his body. "Take me, then. If that is all you want."

Aryamna scoffed. "I said I want you. When I say that, I mean in your whole. Not just your body. I don't want to make love to you if I know it's just a deal of flesh. I require your devotion and complete trust." He shut his eyes, refusing to look at her naked. "And you don't trust me. So you keep secrets."

"You have too, from what I understand."

"Mine are connected to yours. If you don't speak, I am bound to be mum." Aryamna shifted under her. "Get dressed. Don't do this."

"What if I say I want it?"

"I know you too well. You don't want it."

Ishvara had the urge to slap him again for such overconfidence, but he was right. She didn't want it to happen like this, out of untamed rage. She wanted it to be better, deeper and more passionate.

She rose up and got into her robes again. No more words were spoken that night. Aryamna blowed out the candles and laid down on the bed. Ishvara knew he was feigning to be asleep, and in turn she feigned to be a fool.

But this could not go for long.

If she didn't tell him whatever she knew by now, which she thought to be plenty, her marriage would crack. Master Makba had told her she would feel when it would be the right time.

Ishvara decided she would make it happen soon.