Jahnvi and Gauri sat on the second-floor terrace attached to Nanda's bedroom, a space that offered a serene view of the sprawling gardens below. The terrace, much like Nanda's room, was a symbol of her status—a luxurious space adorned with intricately carved wooden furniture, silk cushions, and fragrant marigold garlands hanging from the railings. Nanda's room, twice as large as theirs, was perpetually filled with people seeking her wisdom and counsel.

That afternoon, the two young women had enjoyed a simple yet hearty lunch with Nanda, consisting of freshly made roti, sabzi, and sweet mango pickle, prepared by Veena, Kanika's mother and the royal family's personal cook.

The three women were sorting the clothes they had collected into different piles, these clothes were to be distributed among those displaced by the recent floods.

As they worked,Nanda's personal attendant, Kamla, a woman of similar age and longstanding service, entered and announced the visitors.

"Rani Bai, these women are here to see you," Kamla said. "It is the wife of Bheemji Rao a very renowned merchant in the city."

Nanda, with her usual grace, set aside the stack of folded sarees and nodded. She left her bedroom for the spacious sitting room adjacent to it. The room was tastefully decorated with rich tapestries and ancestral portraits, a place where Nanda often entertained guests.

One of the women, in her mid-thirties, bowed respectfully. "Jai Bhavani, Aai Saheb!" she greeted, her voice trembling slightly.

"Jai Bhavani," Nanda replied, taking her seat on a low wooden chair adorned with a plush cushion. Her presence exuded calm authority, the kind that demanded respect without needing to assert it. "What brings you here so urgently?"

The woman, her face twisted with a mix of anger and desperation, stepped forward. "My husband, Rani Bai. He has married this wench and brought her home," she spat out, dragging a frightened girl, barely fifteen, forward and pushing her roughly to the floor.

Jahnvi's eyes widened in shock as she watched the girl stumble, her delicate frame barely catching herself. "Be careful!" Jahnvi exclaimed, rushing to help the girl up.

"You can't treat her like that," Gauri began, her voice sharp and eyes flashing with indignation. She stepped forward, ready to defend the girl, but stopped when she saw Nanda raise her hand for silence.

Nanda turned her calm yet piercing gaze to the girl, who was trembling like a leaf. "Who are you?" she asked gently, her voice devoid of judgment, as if she were speaking to a lost child.

"Ch-Chanda," the girl stammered, her wide, frightened eyes searching for refuge behind Jahnvi.

The woman continued, her voice dripping with venom. "I won't let a whore stay under my roof with my children. My oldest daughter is her age, engaged to be married, and this harlot—"

"Mind your tongue," Gauri snapped, stepping closer, her usually warm eyes cold as steel. "Don't forget where you are, woman."

The woman faltered slightly under Gauri's fierce gaze but crossed her arms defiantly. "I won't have her in my house," she huffed.

Nanda's gaze remained steady, never wavering. "And who brought her to your house?" she asked pointedly, her tone calm but with an edge that made the woman shift uncomfortably.

"My husband married her," the woman spat, as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

"There," Nanda said, her tone firm but patient, like a teacher correcting a wayward student. "Your husband married her. She has as much right to that house and him as you do."

"But—"

"Instead of cursing this girl, maybe you should ask your husband why he married a child," Jahnvi suggested, her voice soft but with a hint of the same steel that had edged Gauri's words.

"Did you ask your husband?" Nanda inquired, her gaze never leaving the woman's face.

"Yes," the woman admitted, her anger now tinged with helplessness. "Her father couldn't repay the loan he owed my husband."

"Then go fight your husband or her father, not her," Gauri seethed, unable to keep her voice in check.

"Gauri!" Nanda said in a low, warning tone that made Gauri stiffen. Nanda's eyes, though calm, carried a weight of authority that silenced the room. "Jahnvi, you and Gauri should take a stroll on the terrace while I sort this out."

Jahnvi nodded, understanding that Nanda wanted them out of the room to prevent further outbursts. Chanda hesitated to leave Jahnvi's side, clinging to her like a lifeline, but let go when Jahnvi gave her an encouraging smile and a gentle pat on the arm.

The two friends stepped onto the terrace, where a wooden swing hung suspended by metal chains, its seat draped with a richly woven cloth. Jahnvi plopped down on it, her frustration evident in the way she gripped the ropes, her knuckles turning white. "This is so... so infuriating," she muttered, her voice trembling with barely suppressed anger.

Gauri sat beside her, her own frustration mirrored in the tense set of her shoulders. "Why do men treat us like cattle? Why don't they realize we have hearts, souls, and bodies that hurt?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"Not all men are evil, but—"

"But it's always a man," Jahnvi interrupted, tears welling up in her eyes, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "His father, my brother, the Nizam, her husband, they're all the same."

"Jahnvi, what are you—"

"Why didn't you question Malhar about me?" Jahnvi asked, her voice rising. "Why was a Kashmiri princess brought from Hyderabad? Why am I still here in Satara after more than a month? Why has nobody come for me? No man, no letter, why—"

Gauri grabbed Jahnvi by the arms, her concern evident in the way she held her friend. "Jahnvi, what are you saying?" she asked, her heart pounding with fear for her friend.

"My brother sold me," Jahnvi cried, her words tumbling out between sobs. "He lost me in a game of dice, sold me to be a whore to the king of Hyderabad." Her sobs were heart-wrenching, filled with the pain of betrayal and despair.

Gauri pulled her friend into a tight embrace, resting her cheek on Jahnvi's head, her own eyes filling with tears. "I didn't know, Jahnvi. I didn't know. You're home now, safe with us. You're my family, my best friend, my sister. Nobody will hurt you anymore, I swear," she whispered, her voice fierce with the promise of protection.

The two women clung to each other, their shared pain and newfound bond giving them the strength they needed to face the world.

•••

Malhar sat engrossed in paperwork, the heavy wooden desk before him cluttered with scrolls and letters, the quill in his hand moving swiftly across the parchment. The room was dimly lit by the dying light of the sun, the flickering of a single candle casting long shadows on the walls. The room smelled faintly of ink and old paper, a scent that Malhar found oddly comforting.

Tanaji Holkar entered, his footsteps soft on the polished floor. "Raje, namaskar," he greeted, bowing respectfully.

"Tanaji, yes, tell me," Malhar replied, looking up, his sharp eyes betraying the fatigue he felt.

"You had called for me, Raje," Tanaji reminded him, his tone respectful but tinged with curiosity.

"Oh yes, sorry," Malhar said, closing the book of accounts with a sigh. "I was thinking of visiting the campsite today."

"Today?" Tanaji asked, surprised. "But it's almost sundown, Raje."

"I know, but the position of the sun or the light shouldn't determine when I am available to my people, right?" Malhar replied, a hint of determination in his voice.

"Of course, Raje," Tanaji agreed with a bow. "I'll arrange for four men to accompany us and ready your horse in the stable."

"Thank you," Malhar said, returning to his paperwork, his mind already on the needs of the people he served. He picked up the quill again, dipping it in the pot of ink before bringing the tip to meet the parchment as he wrote:

'Dearest Jai,

I received your letter, and I'm glad to know that Javed has accepted the terms and conditions and has started to rule as the new king of Hyderabad under the Maratha flag. He does seem like a man of his word.

Since everything has settled into place so quickly, I think it's time for you to come home. There are a few things we must discuss after you come back. I need your advice dearly.

Ride for home as soon as you think the time is right for you to leave.

Yours,

Malhar'

As soon as Malhar poured the seal on the letter and stamped it with his signet ring, a knock on the door made him look up at the figure standing on his threshold.

"Can I come in?" Gauri asked.

"Since when did you start asking for permission?" Malhar replied with a small smile, setting aside the letter as he leaned back in his chair.

"Since I've been training with Aai Saheb to be a good wife and a queen," Gauri said with a playful grin, plopping down on the chair opposite him. She crossed her arms over her chest, feigning seriousness, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You don't have to change yourself for anyone, Gauri," Malhar said, his voice softening. "If someone is going to love you, it's going to be for who you are, not for what others make of you."

"Someone?" Gauri asked, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't it be you who should love me?"

Malhar's smile faded, and he looked down at the desk, his fingers tracing the edges of a scroll absentmindedly. "I... I know—"

"I know you don't love me, Raje," Gauri interrupted, her voice gentle but firm, the playful glint in her eyes replaced by something deeper, more serious. "And maybe you never will, at least not like a man should love a woman."

"Gauri, I didn't mean—"

"You're in denial," Gauri said, rolling her eyes, though her tone was more concerned than teasing. "You're nine years older than I am, Malhar, and I've figured out your feelings. It's high time you start accepting and acting on them."

"Gauri—" Malhar began, his voice tinged with frustration as he tried to find the right words. "I—"

"Malhar, please," Gauri said, all traces of humor gone as she leaned forward, her expression earnest. "You'll destroy your life and mine if you keep hiding from what you truly feel."

Malhar's eyes flickered over her face, searching, desperate to find some hint of what to say next, some way out of the tangled mess of emotions he couldn't quite name. The concern in Gauri's eyes was unmistakable, and the warmth of her care made something inside him coil tighter, like a knot that stubbornly refused to unravel.

"Gauri, I—" Malhar's voice faltered, his throat tightening as the words caught.

But before he could continue, Gauri's boisterous laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls and breaking the tension that had been thickening between them. Her laughter was infectious, bubbling up like a spring, lightening the air.

"Look at your face!" she exclaimed between breaths, her laughter barely contained. "You look like you've seen a ghost—so pale and serious."

Malhar blinked, momentarily disoriented, and wiped the sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead. He tried to force a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I... Did you need something?" he asked, his voice betraying more unease than he intended.

Gauri's laughter softened into a gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yes, I did. I wanted to talk to you about Jahnvi."

"Jahnvi?" Malhar's heart skipped a beat, a mix of curiosity and concern flashing in his eyes. "What about her? Is everything alright?"

"Oh, everything's fine," Gauri replied, waving her hand dismissively. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Malhar felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly followed by confusion. "Then what's going on?"

Gauri studied him for a moment, her playful demeanor fading slightly as she noted the genuine worry in his voice. "We'll talk about it some other day," she said finally, her tone softening. "It looks like you were just about to head out."

Malhar hesitated, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction, but still very much there. "Yeah... I was," he said, though the truth was he couldn't remember where he was supposed to be going.

"Good," Gauri said, her smile returning, though it was tinged with something Malhar couldn't quite place.

As she turned to leave, Malhar found himself watching her retreating figure, a myriad of thoughts and questions swirling in his mind. The knot tightened again, and he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever Gauri had to said had a meaning deeper than what she was letting on.

AN: Hey you all, love how I was showered with the extra love in the previous chapter, let me know what you think about this one as well.
Lots of love
xoxo