Chapter 3: Clash of Wills

The sun blazed overhead; I couldn’t see Arjun’s face clearly, but his arrogance was obvious. Heat shimmered off the sand, sweat prickled my skin, every word from him stinging like nimbu on a cut.

Arjun remained unruffled, finding time to tease me. He leaned back in his saddle, a smirk on his lips. The camp’s eyes were on us—some hungry for a fight, others for a joke. His coolness only made my anger burn hotter, like ghee on a flame.

My fury grew as I struggled up, saree petticoat tangled, clumsy next to these swaggering men. Still, I refused help. Let them see palace-bred could mean fighter, too.

Arjun sensed my movement and pressed his sword to my back—cold steel, a mountain’s weight. I stiffened, heart pounding, every instinct screaming to fight, but the blade was impossible to ignore. For now, I had to submit.

Awkward and trapped, I turned my head to glare. “Insolence! Do you know who I am?” My voice rang out like a slap. It wasn’t just a question—it was a lifetime of tradition and expectation, of being told my blood was sacred.

No one had ever treated me like this before. I remembered the endless protocol of court, even childhood friends bowing, respect always maintained. This was beyond anything. My pride ached more than my bruised shoulder.

Arjun ignored me, turning to the other man. “Looks like you need better sleeping powder. She’s already awake.” The other man nodded nervously, avoiding my eyes. I bit back a retort, nails digging into my palm.

No one had ever ignored me before. In the palace, silence was a weapon. Here, it stripped me bare. I felt a strange, bitter admiration for these men’s audacity.

I silently vowed to punish Arjun for this disrespect. In my head, I drafted charges—insubordination, disrespect, and a few creative extras. My father’s stern face flashed before me, dignity always the lesson.

After finishing with the other man, Arjun finally looked at me, slowly. His eyes were sharp, challenging—a look I’d never seen outside the family.

“Still have to rely on me,” he said, for some reason I couldn’t fathom. He raised his hand slightly. I guessed what he was about to do, but it was too late.

“You dare—”

Before I could finish, his hand came down. A sharp pain in my shoulder. He actually dared to knock me out.

The world spun, my last thought an outraged promise: "This man will pay." For a split second, I caught the shocked eyes of a junior cadet—he looked away, as if afraid my anger might spill over onto him. Even as darkness took me, my fury echoed like a midnight temple bell, waiting for morning’s answer.