In Indraprastha, the sound of drums and trumpets filled the air as the people rejoiced. Banners with the royal emblem flapped in the breeze, and flower petals rained down on the streets as the citizens cheered the return of their prince. Shubman, still weary from the long journey, stepped through the palace gates with Abhishek by his side. The grandeur of the homecoming seemed surreal compared to the chaos they had left behind.

As they approached the main courtyard, Shubman’s mother, the Queen of the kingdom, and his younger sister, Shahneel, stood waiting for them with smiles on their faces. In the queen’s hand was a silver thali with a diya and rose petals, ready for the traditional aarti. The flickering flame cast a warm glow on their faces.

Shubman lowered his head as his mother performed the aarti, the sacred flame moving in circles before his face, while his sister playfully grinned at him.

Once the ceremony was over, Shubman lifted his head, his brow furrowed with concern. "Where is my father?" he asked, scanning the courtyard for any sign of King Abhiram.

Shahneel's smirk widened as she answered, "He’s still upset with you. And for your information, you and Abhishek are getting jailed for disobeying him. Congratulations!" Her voice dripped with teasing sarcasm, but her eyes held a mischievous gleam.

Abhishek’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he blurted out, "What! Why me? What did I do?"

Before anyone could respond, the Queen nudged Shahneel gently with her elbow, her expression soft yet firm. "Shahneel, let them at least rest for a while. We can speak to the king later, calm things down."

But before Shubman could let out a sigh of relief, a deep, authoritative voice rang out through the courtyard. "Why later?"

Everyone turned as King Abhiram strode into the space, his face set in a hard, unforgiving expression. His regal attire gleamed in the morning sun, but his eyes held no warmth. "Abhishek and Shubman should be jailed right away," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "For three days from now."

Shubman’s heart sank. He could see the disappointment etched on his father’s face. His shoulders slumped as a pair of guards approached, their hands holding iron cuffs meant for him and Abhishek. Without a word, Shubman held out his wrists, his jaw clenched, knowing there was no way to talk his way out of this. Not this time.

Abhishek, on the other hand, still couldn't believe what was happening. As the guards snapped the cold cuffs around his wrists, he looked around in panic and confusion. "Well…uhm… what about the woman we brought in?" he asked, thinking of Meera and hoping this might buy them some more time or mercy.

One of the ministers stepped forward, his tone neutral yet dismissive. "She will be taken care of, son. Don’t worry about her."

Abhishek shot a look at Shubman, but the prince remained silent, staring at the ground. His face, once filled with hope, now bore the weight of resignation. The guards led them away through the courtyard, and Shubman could feel the eyes of the palace staff on them, whispers buzzing like flies in the background.

As they walked toward the palace dungeons, Abhishek leaned toward Shubman, whispering through clenched teeth, "Three days, huh? Could’ve been worse, I suppose."

Shubman’s lips barely moved as he whispered back, "Don’t speak." His mind wasn’t on the punishment, nor on the cold iron around his wrists. His thoughts lingered somewhere far away, back in Patliputra, where he had left a piece of his heart behind.

As the heavy doors of the dungeon creaked open, Shubman took a deep breath. The smell of damp stone and cold air filled his lungs. He knew these next three days would test him in more ways than just enduring confinement.

***

Prince Ishan rode swiftly through the dense forests, the hooves of his horse pounding against the earth in a steady rhythm. He was alone, with only his thoughts fueling his resolve. Every beat of his heart echoed the same mantra — Shubman’s betrayal.

His grip tightened on the reins, his mind fixated on one thing — bringing Shubman’s head back to Patliputra and placing it at his father’s feet.

On the other hand, in the dimly lit cell, the sound of chains occasionally clanked as Abhishek shifted uncomfortably on the cold stone floor. The silence between them had stretched for what felt like hours.

Abhishek groaned, rubbing his wrists, "Has it been three days already?"

Shubman, sitting with his back against the wall, glanced at him with a raised brow. "It's been twelve hours, Abhishek," he replied, shaking his head.

Abhishek blinked in surprise. "Oh... Wait, have you been counting?" he asked, eyeing Shubman curiously.

Shubman gave him a flat look, then after a brief pause, he muttered, "Umm... yes." His voice was quiet, but there was a trace of amusement in it.

Abhishek sighed dramatically, "Of course you have. Only you would be keeping track of time in a dungeon like this."

Shubman chuckled softly, leaning his head back against the cold wall. "It's not like we have anything else to do."

***

The opulent room, adorned with silk curtains and golden artifacts, echoed with the violent screams of a woman's screams.

Meera's voice cut through the still air like a knife, sending the servants scurrying back as she hurled whatever she could find at them—vases, cushions, even plates. Her face was flushed with fury and confusion, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.

"Get away from me!" Meera shrieked, grabbing another vase from the ornate shelf and throwing it at the nearest maid. The vase shattered against the wall, sending shards across the floor.

One of the braver maids stepped forward cautiously, hands raised in an attempt to calm her down. "Please, miss, you need to listen—"

"I don't need to do anything!" Meera yelled, her voice cracking. "Where am I? What is going on? Why am I here?"

The maid flinched but persisted. "You’re in Indraprastha, in the royal palace. You were brought here for your own safety—"

"Safety?!" Meera's laugh was sharp and bitter. "From what? I didn’t ask for any of this!" Her hands trembled as she backed herself into a corner, her eyes wide with anxiety. "I just—I was just blowing out some diyas! The next thing I know, I'm here!"

The maid exchanged a quick, nervous glance with another servant standing by the door, before slowly approaching again. "Miss, you need to understand—you're here because you knew too much about Prince Shubman and Abhishek. You... you knew they were spies."

Meera froze. She knew they were spies, but the fact that these men belonged to the royal family was something she hadn't imagined. Her gaze flickered between the maids, the reality of the situation settling in slowly. "They are princes?" she whispered, her throat suddenly dry.

"Not Abhishek, he is the son of the chief minister. But yes, Prince Shubman is His Highness' son."

Meera shook her head vehemently, standing up abruptly. "I don’t want to be part of this!" Her voice trembled with fear and frustration. "I don’t care what they are or what they’re doing! I just want to go back to my life... to Patliputra. I’m not involved in any of this madness!"

The maid knelt beside her, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, fate doesn’t give us a choice."

***

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