The Angoori Bagh stood situated between the mahal and the harem. It was also known for its colourful display of fragrant flowers, domestic and exotic birds which occasionally visited and the fountains which kept the plants well hydrated.

The serene environment made it a perfect place for Jodha to learn Farsi and Urdu from the usually boisterous Rahim who was equally as focused.

Some of the women of the harem found it curious that she took lessons from a child but since when did knowledge bear such restrictions? Not to mention the fact that Rahim was, to their surprise, a good teacher.

"Nahi, Choti Ammi Jaan, you made an error here," the young boy interrupted her train of thought, causing her to look down at her scroll to behold her error.

In frustration, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It was one of the Urdu alphabets which she had mixed up with another.

"Mujhe maaf kar do," she said as she sought to make the due correction. Then, she set aside the ink and pen as she began to read out what she had written down to see if it sounded right.

A nod of confirmation from Rahim brought an accomplished smile as she let out a sigh.

"I guess I am done for today," she playfully shook her head as a pout made its way to her lips. The young boy seemed to read through her ruse as he got down the bench with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Eh, Choti Ammi Jaan, you're no fun of a student," he retorted with a pout of his own. With a response of hers on the tip of her tongue, she held it back at the realization of another presence.

Raising her head, she was met with the one person she had not seen in a long while - Maan Singh. He had grown quite well from between the time Maa Sa and Bhapusa were in Agra and now. He was donned in the traditional Rajput fashion but with a touch of the Mughal influence.

A boyish grin lit his face as the young man bowed in respect for both her and Rahim who also reciprocated.

"Pranaam, Maan Singh," she folded her hands before rising. Rahim had wordlessly left the Angoori Bagh, leaving the two and it was then Jodha noticed a sealed scroll affixed by the sash securing his angarkha.

"Pranaam, Bua Sa."

Slightly patting his shoulder, Jodha gave him the go-ahead to take a seat. However brief this encounter might be, it mattered to her that she spent a moment with Maan Singh.

"You rarely show up, I reckon that Shehenshah has been a great teacher," she started, hoping to clear the tension at least. She winced internally at the fact that she may have indirectly complimented Jalal while at it yet mustered a neutral expression.

Yet, regardless of what her thoughts were of him, her encounter with him at the palatial terrace was enough proof that he was better than whatever she could give him the credit for.

Chuckling, Maan Singh nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away, "I have been learning a lot about the administration and how things run in the empire, Bua Sa. I will make attempts to keep in touch."

It was an unspoken apology and a promise from the young man to her, one he swore to uphold to the best of his abilities.

Wordlessly, Jodha gestured for him to take his seat which he obliged. For a while, she had this thought of looking into the trade sector and Maan Singh's mention of the administration got the gears running in her mind.

A topic such as this was something she should have brought up with Ammi Jaan or some of the women in the harem but for some reason...

"I have been wondering, Maan Singh," she began, her eyes ahead at some of the pigeons which perched on the grassy grounds of the Angoori Bagh. "About a certain issue that has been lying in my mind for a while now."

Maan Singh's attention was fully captured as he stared up at her, a nod from him asking her to go ahead.

It was then she told him about her work outside the fort and how she had recently overheard some of the women at the bazaar talk about a hike in the price of certain textiles.

"I believe it would ease some of the burden on the merchants who end up importing some of the textiles," she concluded.

Maan Singh paused for a moment, thinking it over. He finally nodded in agreement before saying, "A good point, Bua Sa, we do have farmers who specialize in cultivating cotton here in Agra. If we expanded our storage and constructed looms, we could-."

"We could have our textile industry and more employment opportunities for gifted artisans. We can also increase our revenue while at it," Jodha completed his sentence, her mind lit up as she had a eureka moment.

"Bua Sa, if you will allow it, I can bring this up with Shehenshah," Maan Singh raised as a suggestion and it took everything within her to not flinch or stiffen at the mention of none other than her husband.

Aside from the few brief encounters at the training grounds, they rarely saw each other and this time, it was not an avoidant strategy of Jodha. They just didn't see each other as much as they used to.

"Nahi, not yet," she interjected softly. "I am yet to bring this up with Ammi Jaan or the women in the harem. I'll have to marinate on this first," she added with a wave of dismissal before noticing the scroll in his sash again. "I believe you have a message for me."

Looking down at the letter, he let out a short chuckle as he took it out, handing it over to her.

"A letter from Dada Sa, Shehenshah asked that I bring this over to you."

With a little frown on her face, Jodha took the scroll. The nail of her thumb flicked against the wax seal which slowly peeled off with every click.

Unrolling the paper, her eyes skimmed over the contents before finally reading. It took a while before-. Letting out a gasp, she released an elated laugh as her eyes blinked back tears of joy.

I am glad to inform you that Sukanya's rishta has been fixed with Rajkumar Ratan Singh.

Tilting her head heavenward, Jodha found herself thanking Maa Bhavani for this recent news. Finally, one of her prayers has been answered.

There was finally a kingdom that accepted Sukanya and chose to not focus on the sin of Bhapusa giving her away to the Mughals.

Returning her attention to the letter, she further read the next lines down the paragraph, giving further details about the date of the haldi followed by the shaadi.

There was still enough time, she smiled to herself as she rolled up the paper.

"I will make some preparations, Maan Singh. Sukanya will be getting married soon and this has to be the best event for her," Jodha concluded, looking down at the scroll again.

"Of course, Bua Sa," the young man replied as he was on his feet. "I will take my leave."

With a nod, they exchanged pleasantries and she was alone in the Angoori Bagh. The heavy burden on her shoulders finally lifted and she could finally breathe. Her palms pressed together and close to her chest as her eyes shut tightly with whispered appreciation to Kanha and Maa Bhavani.

The Diwan-e-Aam faced the open courtyard and stood as the place where he, as the emperor, was to dispense justice.

Yet, a foreign feeling seized him by the chest, was it guilt? Guilt? He'd have scoffed and mocked anyone foolish enough to tell him he'd feel such an emotion.

The words of Khan Baba always that a strong emperor had to abandon his emotions to rule an empire and expand territories was a philosophy he abided by without the burden of guilt weighing him down.

"Emotions are a weakness, they make a man lose his wits and send him to the grave."

They rang truer than ever.

He has always kept a cool head while conducting these court proceedings until her - Jodha Begum. The recent discovery of his men abusing their power and the question she had posed to him about her exemption from paying jizya (before she started paying that) introduced a new complication he never considered until her.

Right now, he could not decide if he hated her for that or not. He had married her for conquest, brought her all the way here to impose his dominance on the ever-stubborn rose but alas, how the tables have turned on him. Instead, she was here creating a moral dilemma where it should never exist.

Sat on his raised platform, he stared down at the citizens who gathered in his court hoping they would receive justice. And he ensured they got the justice they deserved because he was the emperor, their Alampana, Allah's instrument of justice.

What about that family? Was it justice when you demanded they be thrown into the cells? A tiny little voice which took on the voice of none other than his Rajput wife questioned just as firmly and assertively as she would have done if he stood face-to-face before her.

She did not need to say it to his face, the farman spoke well for itself that she disagreed with his decision and her words at the terrace amplified them.

"One might conquer a nation but a true leader rules over the hearts of the people."

He found himself deriding at that quote. Since when did he start caring about what she said or thought about how he ruled the sultanate? If not for the farman, her wish to release that family would have landed on deaf ears anyway. They had disrespected the foundations of the sultanate, which Dadajaan Babur had set in stone, why should he let that go unpunished? Because they offended the sensitivity of one begum?

Yet...the Sadar Bazaar?

The same begum's words had pointed him towards a dire situation which ate into the very foundations of the empire he oversaw.

What if the jizya is not as beneficial as I had believed? What if things do need to change?

He huffed at the thought, his fists clenched so tightly. His face was set in stone as he stared down at the people in the Diwan-e-Aam, his voice as cold as it always was, the way it ought to be: no emotions, no partiality, none of that.

"Bring forth the plaintiff," he said in an aloof and detached manner.

A man came forward and Jalal regarded him. The short man had his hands pressed together, a downcast look on his face and visibly distraught. Jalal's forehead creased as he beheld the man who looked to be in his older years but not that elderly.

Accompanying this man were several other men who also wore the same forlorn look as if they were in a mourning period.

"Shehenshah ki jai ho," the older man greeted with his head slightly bowed and with a wavering voice which clued Jalal as to what the nature of this man's complaint might be. "I am called Dhata and I am here to seek justice for myself and my son."

"Tell me, what is your complaint?"

"As you can see, Badshah Salamat," Dhata continued, all forlorn as he tried to continue with his words. "My son is not here with me; he was killed by some men. We were both honest men who make a living by farming and my only son was cruelly taken away from me."

Clenching his fists tightly, Jalal could find himself dreading the answer to the next question he was about to ask Dhata. If his soldiers had something to do with this...

"Losing a child is painful; tell me more, I will start up an investigation and give you the justice you and your son deserve," he said, those words a promise to the mourning man.

"We had only finished a day of harvest, Shehenshah, when a gang of bandits attacked us," Dhata continued. "In a bid to defend me and our produce, my son lost his life. As I speak, Shehenshah, it has been three days since his corpse has been cremated."

Three days? Jalal found himself curious as he questioned Dhata, "From where are you?"

"I journeyed all the way from Parokh Village, Shehenshah, some dacoits have terrorized us for years now that it has become unsafe for us to live. Had I gotten justice, I would not have taken the trip down here, Jahapana."

His frown deepened with what Dhata just told him and Jalal could not help but wonder...

"And under whose jurisdiction do you live?"

Without hesitation, Dhata replied, "The Kingdom of Sujanpur, ruled by Raja Bhawani Singh and Kunwar Ratan Singh. Despite the numerous complaints brought before them, they have made Sujanpur a shelter for bandits to terrorize the people."

At that, he found himself coming to a halt as if willing himself to have that word repeated to him.

Sujanpur? Where had he heard that name last? Raja Bharmal's letter, his mind answered his question. The words of the letter replayed so vividly in his mind that he could not be mistaken.

But, it was also possible he had misheard Dhata, wasn't it?

That alternate view was perfectly shattered when one of the men who came along with Dhata chose the perfect opportunity to add the final nail into the coffin, "Shehenshah, Sujanpur has now become a hotspot for dacoits. Before, they'd rob us during the night but now, they have gotten bolder by robbing us in broad daylight. No longer can we trust our leaders to mete out justice, that is why we took this journey to have our voices heard."

Ya Khuda, Jalal found himself swearing to himself as the urge to wearily bury his face in his palm grew stronger.

Of course, he was not the type to hesitate in administering justice or being the most pragmatic. Not only did he find the bandits particularly annoying but they posed a lot of dangers to his kingdom.

However...

His eyes veered off to the pardah which separated the women's court from the rest of the Diwan-e-Aam to the same spot where he'd always gaze upon her until today - Jodha Begum was nowhere to be seen. Neither her nor the women who tailed behind her.

Looking back at these men, especially Dhata, he made up his mind as he gave his verdict. His face hardened at the thought of his next course of action.

Her hojra echoed with rolls of cackles, her sides ached with every movement she made.

Ya Allah, never in her life could a better news have come in this way. Never in her years of being in the court had she left so satisfied, so smug - perhaps except for the time Jalal had waged war against Bairam Khan no thanks to some of her orchestration.

Dabbing her white cloth to her teary eyes, Maham was finally able to settle down, her chuckles slowly ebbing. Resham, on the other hand, raised his eyebrows with a teasing smile on his lips.

"Ya Allah, Huzoor, what could bring you so much joy?" The eunuch gestured exaggeratingly as he tossed back his braid.

"Ji, Ammi Jaan," Adham Khan joined in, his body reclining on one of her divans as he picked out a huge grape from the thali holding a variety of fruits. "I wonder why? What could be joyous about a potential war?"

Sneering at him, Maham gave him stink eyes as she cursed her fate. And Adham still wondered why he was not seated on Jalal's takht?!

Resham's ignorance, she could excuse but Adham's?! Where was her son when Allah was distributing wisdom and, at least, some common sense?

"How will you understand when you barely show up to Diwan-e-Khaas? Are you also aware that there is an active patrol on the lookout for Shah Abul Mali?"

And just as she thought, the idiot whom she called her son deepened his eyebrows as he cluelessly stared back at her.

Ya Khuda, maybe he and Javeda are a perfect match, after all, she wanted to groan in frustration.

"He is busy lusting after Shehenshah's bandhi, Huzoor," Resham cut in and like lightning striking at a tree, Adham Khan stood up so fast that the eunuch did not see it coming. His legs kicked off helplessly as he was lifted off the ground by Adham's seemingly tight grip.

The stronger man bared his teeth ferociously at Resham as his grip on his neck tightened. Gurgles escaped the eunuch as he found it harder to breathe or even let out a single syllable.

Shaking her head, Maham decided to intervene with a curt order for Adham to release the man before he went blue in the face from asphyxiation.

In addition to his unbridled lust for women, Adham's second weakness was his temper which blinded him to wisdom. Not that Adham responded to that while within a clear headspace either.

Finally feeling his feet on the ground, Resham rubbed at his neck, heaving as he took in gulps of air while Maham silently ordered Adham back to the divan.

Soon, the room was calm enough now for a civil conversation despite Resham warily staring at Adham.

What was his question again? About a potential war.

"Had you been present for Diwan-e-Khaas, you'd have been aware that Raja Bharmal of Amer sent in a letter of invitation to the palace," she revealed, her eyes boring into Adham as if to chide him for his lackadaisical attitude towards the politics of the Sultanate.

And just as she expected, the oaf of a man asked another foolish question of his own, "And what has this got to do with today's proceedings at the Diwan-e-Aam?"

Opposite where Maham and Adham sat, Resham smacked his palm against his forehead as he released an exaggerated sigh.

"Ya Allah!" He let out as if forgetting that a few moments ago, Adham had been one step away from sending him back to his Maker.

"Resham!" Maham raised a hand and the eunuch hushed in response. Then, she faced Adham with a glare of her own. "And you wonder why Jalal still has his takht?!"

Adham's face darkened with rage, his teeth gritting as he addressed her, "I'd genuinely appreciate it if you weren't speaking in riddles, Ammi Jaan."

Maham then huffed as she decided to honour his question with an answer, "Raja Bhawani Singh and his son, Kunwar Ratan Singh are soon-to-be families of the Amer royal family, Adham. If you were present in Diwan-e-Khaas, you'd have been aware of this."

It was one of the rare moments when the oaf finally grasped the underlying message as he also let out a series of chuckles.

"This is..." Adham shook his head as it clicked in his mind. "Exquisitely rich, Ammi Jaan. It is safe to assume Jalal would wage war against Sujanpur and enlist Amer in his ranks now that Raja Bharmal is a mansabdar."

Like a teacher impressed by her student, Maham smiled down at her son. The idiot was slowly picking up.

She then looked ahead at the thali before picking up an apple.

"This will be interesting to watch," she mused to herself as she gave the fruit the most malicious of her stares. "What I'd give to be a fly on the wall once Begum Jodha realizes that her future in-laws have been harbouring dacoits."

She chuckled again, oh, her day had only gotten more interesting.

Being in Jalal's close circle gave Abdul certain benefits he would not have considered until today. Right now, as he watched his friend deep in his thoughts, he figured out that today's proceeding at the Diwan-e-Aam created a dilemma out of something which would not have been one in the first place.

Could it be that-? He thought to himself and almost chuckled at the thought. If he was anyone else, Jalal would probably decapitate him should he get an inkling of his inner thoughts but, he was Abdul bin Nasir, not anyone else.

Yet, Jalal would frown at the thought that his heart was slowly melting because of Bhabijaan. If it was not that, then, why was he as hesitant as he was right now?

Dhata's case really complicated things for the young emperor who would otherwise be getting ready in his war gear at this moment. To any ruler, including Jalal, the dacoits were like a tiny rotten part of a fruit which, if left to fester, would irreparably spread to the whole fruit and other surrounding fruits. Jalal was not about to let something like that on his watch.

However, the fact that this was surrounding a kingdom whose rulers were about to become Bhabijaan's in-laws had him both in hesitation and in this conundrum.

"What are your next plans, Bhaijaan?" He questioned, watching how the man stood eerily still as he looked ahead. He could imagine that Jalal was deep in his thoughts, creating strategies of how he'd figure out this issue.

It was Jalal's biggest asset after all - his abilities to make as many strategies as possible. It was also an acquired skill for a man who has spent a part of his life on the war field.

About to repeat his question, Abdul paused in his steps at the sight to Malika-e-Azaam, at least, that was how Jalal referred to her.

"Adaab, Begum Sahiba," he greeted her instead with the older woman responding in kind.

She carried herself with a royal kind of grace around the palace and outside the fort which drew people towards her...well, except Bhaijaan.

For Abdul, it was a long complicated story that he'd rather not tell or judge. It was a sore topic for Jalal whose attention was now on her and as usual, his demeanour was steely cold as he briefly greeted her.

That was the nature of Jalal's relationship with Malika-e-Azaam, a matter of brevity and formalities that Abdul could tell it hurt the older woman.

Solemnly, she greeted in taslim before going straight to the reason why she had walked into Jalal's hojra - it had Bhabijaan as the central theme.

"I know the urgency and the importance of what is at hand, Jalal but I request that this is something that should not be done with haste," she said, earning a raised eyebrow from Jalal which seemed to say "and you think I have not considered that?"

It was either Malika-e-Azaam was unaware of the look or she was ignoring that look. It was a matter of ambiguity.

He stood silently and stoically, hiding whatever emotion that might show up. Abdul almost groaned at how much he hated the fact that Jalal could so easily conceal his emotions, leaving a cold front to those who watched.

But then, Bhaijaan was always about maintaining control over everything. The few times he dropped that veneer was amongst the people he considered family but that was only a few people...and maybe Bhabijaan.

"So, what do you propose I do, Malika-e-Azaam? Wait for a few more days and let injustice and incompetence run wild?"

Uff, Abdul almost winced, not just at the coldness of Jalal's voice but also at the barb in his tone.

"No," Malika-e-Azaam was quick to respond defensively as her posture got rigid. One thing about Hamida Bano Begum was that she could appear passive and take whatever subtle jabs anyone threw at her but she also knew when to stand for herself and this was one of those times. "But I want you to consider Jodha and how she would be affected by this. They are also her future in-laws as well."

Abdul caught note of the scornful chuckle that rolled out of Jalal's lips as he was ready to reply but Abdul saw this as a cue to jump in before this had a potential of going downhill.

"Bhaijaan, Malika-e-Azaam does make a good point. Bhabijaan was absent from today's proceedings at the Diwan-e-Aam, I believe she needs to know about this." He could tell Jalal was about to say something which prompted him to add, "From you."

This was the moment when Jalal looked like he could strangle someone - him, to be precise but there was Malika-e-Azaam who chimed in her agreement.

Seeing that he was the minority here, Jalal said nothing, his fists clenched before making his way out of the hojra.

Joy, indescribable joy was the predominant emotion Jodha felt in this moment. Back from offering puja at the Ambe Maa Mandir and giving alms afterwards, she returned to the mahal without the usual exhaustion and with more energy than usual.

So, here she was, putting that energy towards making some garlands. That was one of her major weaknesses as Reva stood in the background teasingly berating her lack of skills in doing this while Moti giggled.

Ugh, look who's laughing, she playfully rolled her eyes before returning her focus to the current garland in her hand.

"Pick up that garland and stop the giggling," she scolded at her, her nose pointing toward an unfinished garland Reva had left for her. Just like that, Moti's face fell in the realization that she would also have to partake.

Just as Jodha was about to say anything else, she noticed a new presence at the mouth of her hojra's entrance. It was a kind of weird type of intuition she had developed by now but she had come to detect his presence - imposing and commanding.

Why is he here? She found herself questioning as Moti and Reva stood to acknowledge him with a "Pranaam". His facial expression was unreadable and more than ever, she found herself hating this one aspect of him - amongst the other traits of his she despised.

"Takhliya," he said in dismissal, both Reva and Moti staring back at her in a mix of hesitation and worry. Not that Jodha could say that she blamed them as even she had come to dread being alone with him in an enclosed space. Yet she nodded at them to comply which they did.

Now, it was just the two of them alone. She watched as he shuffled his juttis off his feet before making his way in and she raised her eyebrows before standing from her divan to acknowledge him.

"You were not at the Diwan-e-Aam today," he gazed down at her, scanning her face with those eyes of his as if he was waiting for her to falter or something.

Was it an offence now? With determination in her mind, she tipped her chin as she rendered her answers, "Ammi Jaan gave me the go-ahead. I had gone for puja at the mandir as you know by now that Sukanya's rishta has been fixed."

"Hmm," he looked away and at this moment, Jodha felt more self-aware at the state of her hojra with flowers strewn all over her divan and some strings. It was not as if she would not clean up once she was done but she could not help the self-consciousness that came with his surveillance. "If you must know, I am going to Sujanpur."

Oh, she pondered. But then, he was her husband, he had to come along with her for Sukanya's engagement after all..unless-.

"Not to participate in the engagement, Jodha Begum." And just like that, he got her attention as she frowned at him in confusion about what he meant by that. "Tell me, Jodha, ever looked at the sky and seen certain signs, wondering if it is just a wonder of nature or a sign of bad omens looming around?"

Cautiously, her frown deepened as she pondered why he would ask her that type of question.

"I do not understand," she danced around the question and he broke into a chuckle - one that did not reach his eyes and Jodha could only ask herself which of the two she hated the most when it came to him - his unreadable mask or this.

When it all subsided, he then decided to respond just as cryptically as before, "Sujanpur hangs on a thin thread, Jodha Begum. So thin that a slight weight is enough to make it finally snap."

Putting two and two together, she dreaded asking him what he meant by that.

Kyun, Ambe Maa, kyun? Just when I thought things were looking up? She found herself on the verge of letting the tears, which were starting to well in her eyes, spill.

The jallad, on the other hand, looked ahead as if he had not just dropped the most devastating news ever. Oh, how she wished she had fulfilled her long-desired wish of having his decapitated head in her hands back on the terrace.

With a wave of his hand, he went on just as detached as he was, "As we speak right now, I have sent a few of my men to survey Sujanpur and a few to Amer, it will be best if your Abbujaan prepares his ranks as war looms ahead."

What? She blinked, a drop of tears now rolling down her cheek. Not only was he prepared to dash the hope of her family to the dust but he was also about to involve Amer in his sick plans as well?

"How dare you?!" Her rage was palpable with the deep growl that bubbled out of her throat. "Have you given any thought to what this would do to my family? To Amer?!"

She found herself visibly trembling, not just from the anger but also the despair. This was why she had watched with unease when he had bestowed on Bhapusa the mansabdar title at the jashn. It was as if her intuition had pointed at something as sinister as this.

"It is bad enough that Rajputana has ostracized my family because of my marriage to you, now, you plan to force them into something that would further stain our honour and go against our values. Was this your plan all along when you made Bhapusa your mansabdar?!"

She had lost track of the time between now and when he was close enough to roughly grip her by the jaw. Her tears brimmed defiantly as she regarded him, her chest heaving from fury.

His cold hazel eyes stared into hers as he coolly mocked her, "I keep on hearing about these Rajput values from you, Jodha Begum. 'Rajput value' this and 'Rajput honour' that yet I can not help but wonder if those values you yell about include sheltering dacoits as well?"

What? She found herself repeating her earlier question, her having lost that anger which was replaced with despondency. Did Bhapusa know about this?

Jalal let out a scoff at her reaction, his grip loosening, "What? Surprised? I know you think of me as a monster but I'll proudly tell you I am not a mindless monster, Jodha Begum."

More tears rolled down her cheeks which he caught with his thumb, it felt so gentle, tender in fact if this was through the lens of an outsider without context.

"Those tears," he whispered. Even his voice sounded tender. What a manipulative bas-. "Never has anything looked more divine. Yet, such tears are wasted on a kingdom that has allowed itself to be infested with pests."

Why? She wanted to ask him. Why was he doing this to her? It turns out she would not need to ask as he tsked at her.

"It is nothing personal, Jodha Begum. It goes beyond whatever is going on between us." His grip left her jaw as his hands were by his side. Now, he took on a determined posture as he faced the direction of her hojra's window, "But the one thing I hate the most are people who threaten the peace of the Mughal Sultanate and what I hate more than that are people who give them the space to do so."

He turned to face her again, his cold mask now off his face as he shrugged at her.

"I thought you needed to know," he said with an air of finality. Without uttering any more words, he was gone, leaving her to face the aftermath of his words.

Now that she was alone, she sank down to the floor, her knees bearing the impact as she let out sobs - both of anger and despair. Why now? Why now when things were starting to look up for her family?

(bonus scene)

(Amer)

Pressing her hand to the left side of her chest, Mainavati could feel her heart heavily palpitating against her ribcage as she sat up. Her chest heaved as she took in deep breaths. Ever since Rani Apurva had pulled her aside to tell her about her worrisome and ominous dreams, she had also gotten some of them.

Her recent one had the shaadi proceeding as usual, with Sukanya and Ratan Singh on the mandap. The Pandit was about to have them do the pheras when an arrow flew in, striking the groom perfectly in the chest.

The tent went into chaos as Ratan fell to his knees, blood seeping through his angarkha and staining the pristine floor of the venue, but it got worse when a troop of Mughal soldiers rushed in. One detail that had Mainavati puzzled about this dream was that everyone on the bride's side was left unscathed; it was just the groom's entourage that was specifically targeted.

Frowning to herself, she looked ahead at the serene murti of Maa Bhavani - the same murti which had accorded her one of its most unsettling eye contacts ever. There was nothing out of the ordinary with it today yet, Mainavati could not help but let out a long sigh of exhaustion.

What message are you trying to tell me, Bhavani Maa?

Her feet then touched the ground before she caught sight of Bharmal about to make his way into her chambers.

"Raja Sa," she called out to him, her hands put together in a Pranaam.

Bharmal acknowledged her with a nod, his face crestfallen as he regarded her. Mainavati could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her husband extended his right hand which held a scroll with its seal broken.

Her frown deepened as she took the rolled-up paper, her eyes merely staring as if she was giving it a clinical observation.

"Yah kya hai, Raja Sa?"

"Yah ek patra hai," he replied in a manner that had her even more worried. "From Jamai Sa."

("It is a letter")

Casting her gaze down, Mainavati slowly unrolled the scroll. Unlike what she expected, this was less of an informal letter but an official one as she initially skimmed through the words before electing to read.

To Raja Bharmal of Amer,

A few days ago, this letter would have made a congratulatory message for you and amer's royal family. However, circumstances have made it unfortunately the opposite. This letter is a request for you to gather your men, for in three days, we march to Sujanpur at dawn.

Why? You might ask. Recent information has revealed that Sujanpur has become a capital of dacoits.

A sharp gasp of horror escaped Mainavati, her head up as she regarded Bharmal who could only dejectedly shake his head. What? How?

According to the laws of the Mughal Sultanate, to host dacoits is to incite rebellion and the prize of rebellion is death.

Signed, Badshah Abu'l Fath Jalaluddin Mohammad,

Shehenshah-e-Hindustan

"Kyun?" Mainavati found herself slide off her bed as tears rolled down her eyes. Now, it all made sense with the strange dreams, all the premonitions and that unsettling sight of Bhavani Maa staring back at her. Now, her recent dream made more sense but why?

What about Sukanya? The young girl had been so elated that she finally found a match but now? Why did this have to happen to them during a time of hope for them?

She looked up at Bharmal, numerous questions written all over her face as she turned to him but one of them dominated them all, "What now, Raja Sa?"

With a resigned look, Bharmal gave his answer, "We prepare for war."

closing notes: today, the 31st is quite the holiday for a lot of folks - Reformation Day (for Protestants), All Hallows' Eve/Halloween (for Catholics and non-Catholics alike) and Diwali (for Hindus). I just want to say Happy Halloween 🎃 and Happy Diwali 🪔. I hope you guys have a lovely day this very lovely day 😄💜