The courtyard was a riot of color and sound—swathes of fabric fluttered in the breeze like captured flags, gold threads glinting in the morning sun. Servants moved back and forth carrying bundles of marigolds, stacks of brass plates, and bolts of silk in reds, oranges, and emerald greens. The scent of sandalwood mingled with that of rosewater and fresh turmeric, and at the far end, a group of women sang softly as they strung flowers for the coming rituals.

In the center, beneath a stone arch fringed with carved creepers, Damini sat on a cushioned divan, surrounded by a mountain of sarees in varying shades. Beside her, Nanda watched with a tired but fond smile, sipping sweetened tamarind water from a silver cup. The courtyard buzzed with excitement—each movement, each thread being sewn, was a small, steady step toward a wedding just days away.

As Jahnvi and Gauri stepped in, their shadows falling long against the sunlit marble, Damini's eyes lit up.

"There she is!" Damini clapped her hands. "Come here, child."

Jahnvi hesitated only for a breath before walking over, careful to keep her expression calm.

Damini tugged her gently down beside her on the cushions, fingers already reaching for a peach-colored silk.

"Look at this one," she said, laying it carefully across Jahnvi's chest, smoothing the folds with practiced ease. "Soft as moonlight, and it brings out that golden hue in your skin. Doesn't it, Tai Saheb?"

Nanda offered a polite nod. "Yes, very graceful."

"Hmm, but what about this?" Damini tossed the peach aside and reached for a deep maroon Banarasi, thick with zari. "No, this is regal. You must look like a queen."

Jahnvi managed a small smile. Gauri settled on a stool beside them, eyeing a pile of yellow fabrics with amusement.

"They are all very pretty. But I don't need so many, any one will suffice. " Jahnvi said quietly.

"You'll get more than one you are going to become a part of the Bhosle family, and daughter in laws of the Bhosley's must be dressed as such," Damini replied, not missing a beat. "Your wedding is only six days away, my dear. The preparations should be nothing short of royal."

Jahnvi's hands curled in her lap. Six days.

"I've just finalised the schedule," Damini continued, turning to both the girls. "We'll begin with the Bhavani Pooja. The priest will arrive from Tuljapur a day prior."

Nanda nodded solemnly. "Bhavani's blessing is tradition in the Bhosale house. The idol will be brought from the inner sanctum."

"After the Pooja," Damini said, selecting another swatch of fabric, "there will be a grand feast in the lower grounds. For the people of Satara. No one should say we didn't share our joy with them."

"And the next day?" Gauri asked.

"Her mehendi," Damini answered with a sparkle in her eyes. "It will be held in the garden court, just like mine was. Musicians from Pune have been called."

"And then the haldi the morning after," Nanda added.

"Of course," Damini agreed. "And finally, on the day given by the Raj Purohit, the wedding. Everything according to the auspicious hour. The stars have aligned perfectly."

The weight of those words sat like iron in Jahnvi's chest.

Damini leaned in, adjusting a strand of Jahnvi's hair behind her ear. "You will look beautiful in anything, but I think we'll begin with maroon for the Bhavani Pooja. It's strong. Fierce. Just like a true queen."

Jahnvi smiled again, the kind that didn't reach her eyes.

Her mind barely registered the colors, the songs in the background, the excitement in Damini's voice. Six days. That was all the time she had left to silence the war within her.

And with every tick of the palace sundial, the choice before her seemed less like a decision, and more like a sentence she had no power to rewrite.

As Damini continued sorting through brocades and chiffons, occasionally barking a cheerful instruction at the tailors in the corner, Gauri rose from her stool and walked over to Jahnvi.

Without a word, she sat beside her on the cushion, nudging Jahnvi gently with her shoulder. Her hand found Jahnvi's and held it, firm and warm, fingers threading together like they had done a hundred times before when the world felt too loud.

"Don't worry," Gauri said softly, her voice like balm against the rising tide in Jahnvi's chest. "I'm going to be with you every step of the way. Through the mehendi, haldi, the wedding... all of it."

Jahnvi turned to her slowly, eyes searching, unsure whether the words were a comfort or a quiet warning.

Gauri gave her a crooked smile and added, with a lightness she didn't quite feel, "Now in a twisted, royal way—we're going to be sisters. Not just by bond, but by law."

Jahnvi tried to smile, but her lips barely moved.

Gauri then leaned a little closer, casting a quick glance sideways to make sure Damini was still busy flinging sarees at the overwhelmed tailors. She offered Damini the kind of sugary-sweet smile that made her look utterly devoted—then, in one fluid breath, leaned toward Jahnvi's ear and whispered:

"Even if it comes with a few....drawbacks."

Jahnvi's eyes flicked sideways to Damini, who was currently fussing over a fiery orange silk and holding it up in front of her own chest to demonstrate a neckline.

A laugh bubbled unexpectedly in Jahnvi's throat—small, tired, but real. She lowered her head slightly, as though pretending to admire the fabric, while letting the brief, flickering warmth of Gauri's teasing sit like a candle in her heavy heart.

In this palace of grand decisions and gilded walls, at least she wasn't alone.

Not yet.

•••

The stables were quieter than usual, the scent of damp wood and saddle oil lingering in the air. The ground was soft beneath Malhar's boots, still drying from last night's rain.

After concluding a meeting with his council and chief of staff, Malhar decided to check on his horse—the only companion he'd had during the past two days in the forest.

Malhar approached Vayu's stall, his palm instinctively reaching out to the steed's neck. The horse huffed, pressing its forehead to Malhar's chest with a low, content grunt.

"You treat that horse better than most men treat their wives," came a voice from the far end.

Malhar didn't look up. "And he's more loyal than most men too."

A quiet chuckle followed the retort.

Abhinav emerged from behind the saddle racks, his riding cloak flung casually over his shoulder, boots muddied from the morning ride. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, but his face was smug, easy, amused. Something about him was always a little too composed.

"You rode out early," Malhar said, finally glancing his way.

"Couldn't sleep," Abhinav replied, tossing a reins loop onto a nearby hook. "Thought I'd give the day a head start... or perhaps get a little ahead of others."

His tone was light, but laced with a weight that didn't go unnoticed.

Malhar gave him a sidelong glance. "Alone?"

Abhinav smiled slowly, like someone who had heard a joke no one else was in on. "What makes you think I was alone?"

Malhar's grip on Vayu's bridle stiffened for a second before he masked it.

"I asked a simple question."

"And I gave you an answer," Abhinav said smoothly, approaching the next stall and patting down his own horse. "Companionship... is a curious thing. Fleeting, sometimes. But when it's offered, it has a way of rewriting what you thought you understood."

Malhar's gaze stayed fixed ahead. "You've always liked your riddles."

"And you've always liked your silences." Abhinav's voice softened, as if savoring the moment. "But silence doesn't stop time, Malhar. It just delays the truth."

Malhar turned toward him now, slowly.

Abhinav didn't step back. If anything, he stepped closer.

"You've been away a few days," he added. "And things here have... change."

"I see more from the saddle than some do from within palace walls dada saheb," Malhar replied, tone cooler now.

"Perhaps," Abhinav said with a shrug. "Or perhaps, sometimes, you miss what's right under your nose."

He smiled then—soft, smug, perfectly poised.

Malhar studied him, the silence stretching. He didn't rise to the bait. Not yet.

Abhinav pulled on his gloves, glancing toward the corridor that led back toward the inner palace.

"I'd keep a closer eye on the hills, Malhar," he added, more serious now. "They're not the only thing shifting with the wind."

He gave a small nod, turned on his heel, and walked off—cloak trailing lightly behind him.

Malhar stood unmoving for a long moment.

Vayu nudged his shoulder, but Malhar didn't react.

He stared after Abhinav, brows furrowed, jaw tight. Something in Abhinav's words crawled under his skin—unsettling, sharp, like the faint scent of smoke before a fire reveals itself.

AN: You don't want to miss the next chapter guys 🙈
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