Chapter 8: The Palace’s Trap

The marriage grant was withdrawn, but I knew the Rajmata—she wouldn’t let us go. A few days later, someone from the palace came to invite me to a flower banquet.

The invitation arrived on a silver tray, the palace crest stamped in red wax. The servant’s voice was polite, but the warning was clear.

Amit was only a seventh-rank officer, and as his wife, I had no right to attend. Besides, I dared not set foot in the palace. So I feigned illness, rubbing neem paste on my face to create red blotches. The palace doctors were fooled. Rumours spread of my unsightly appearance. My preference for staying home became my excuse.

The house stank of neem for days, and neighbours whispered about my strange illness. When Amit heard, he cupped my face and said, "Arre, yeh sab bekar ki baatein hain. Meri Ishaan sabse khoobsurat hai!"

I was about to tease him, but he dropped a kiss on my forehead.

"Ishaan, let’s get married properly this time. I’ve saved enough for a grand shaadi!"

His eyes sparkled. I found myself saying, "Theek hai."

My heart fluttered, picturing us beneath the mandap, mogra garlands around our necks, surrounded by those who mattered—just us, finally claiming our future.

Amit went to the palace to request wedding leave, but didn’t return. I stood at the door with a lantern as a battered Ambassador car rolled up. A delicate voice called—it was someone from the palace.

My lantern’s yellow beam flickered in the evening breeze. The car’s paint was chipped, but the palace emblem shone. The driver’s words chilled me.

"Madam Amit, Sir Amit got drunk in the palace. Please come fetch him."

I covered my face, nervous. "My husband rarely drinks. Why now?"

The attendant laughed. "I don’t know, madam. If you don’t fetch him, he won’t come back."

He showed me Amit’s gold chain. I gripped my lantern, frozen. Time blurred. Then I heard myself say, "Let’s go."

I couldn’t let him lose everything for me.

The one waiting was not Rajmata, but Priya. The beautiful princess wore an innocent look, but when she saw me, she was disappointed. She didn’t know me—the girl who’d lived sixteen years in her place.

She looked me up and down. "So simple you are. I don’t know what Bhaiya Amit finds special in you. Chalo, finish this quietly. Return the gold chain, and don’t let Bhaiya Amit find out."

Her words stung, but I kept my head down, refusing to break.

My mouth and nose were covered, and I was dragged from the palace.

I kicked and struggled, but their grip was strong, rough hands muffling my cries as they hauled me through shadowy corridors. My heart pounded as palace gossip echoed in my ears.

"How to deal with this? Hard to get out now."

"Then do it here. The palace is big—one more won’t matter."

"Gulmohar Wing is empty. Throw her there."

Hearing this, my eyes widened. Gulmohar Wing was once my room. Why had I come full circle?

My hands trembled. I remembered the scent of those flowers on lonely nights, the morning sun through the jalis, promising hope I never believed.

"Isn’t that place forbidden?"

"That’s why it’s easy."

"Stop dawdling. Let’s go!"

They dragged me until gulmohar scent filled my nose.

The honeyed fragrance brought back laughter, secrets, and dreams I’d buried long ago.

"We’re here!"

"Hurry—drown her and bury her, finish it!"

Water rushed over me. Desperation made me fight. The attendant, inexperienced, let me break free.

I saw Amma’s face, smiling as she tied my anklet, and I knew I couldn’t let it end here. My lungs burned, the world spinning. I clawed at the air, desperate for breath. My sari tangled around my legs as I broke the surface, coughing.

"Who’s there?"

A familiar voice made me pause, but I was pressed down again.

I recognised the clipped tone, the authority. Hope and terror battled inside me.

"Why is His Majesty here?"

"He’ll leave soon. Hold her down, finish it."

For a moment, I hesitated. Until—

The memory of childhood, of hands in my hair and promises at night, flared within me. I couldn’t die—not here.

"Your Majesty, I’ve picked the finest gulmohar blossoms. Thank you for your favour!"

My heart trembled, a wave of grievance swelling. I couldn’t think—I fought upward with all my strength.

"Husband, save me!"

Kabir’s body stiffened. He turned, stunned.

I staggered and threw myself into Amit’s arms. His embrace was steady, his heartbeat thundering against mine.

"Husband, save me!"

Before Amit could comfort me, a hoarse voice sounded behind us: "Ishu, tu hai?"

Behind us, the palace loomed, shadows thick with old secrets. But for the first time, I dared to hope that someone would choose me, not for duty, but for love. The night air was thick with gulmohar and secrets, as past and present crashed together like the Ganga’s tide. My desperate voice hung in the air, searching for salvation in the arms of the only man who had ever truly seen me.