Cold breezes caressed my face, disturbing my slumber. I felt goosebumps on my body and I jerked up in a sitting position due to the sheer amount of cool winds brushing against my skin. I glanced at the windows and the door to our balcony, all open, allowing cold air to move freely. Before pulling up the comforter blanket to snuggle into its sublime warmth to fight the loss of heat, I signaled maids to shut the windows that allowed these chilly zephyrs to wake me up.
I glanced beside me, at Nyrvig. Unlike me, he was sleeping peacefully even at this low temperature. His face held the innocence that I never associated him with before and it lacked the lines of worry that were often seen on his visage nowadays. His lips were parted like two rose petals opened for the rays of the sun that were slowly eclipsed by the shadows of curtains, enticing me to get a taste of it but I stopped myself; it was too early to approach any such steps.
Regardless of what my mind said, my fingers trailed towards the visage of the man sleeping beside me when I noticed something glinting under the light of the chamber; it was the hilt of a dagger, I inspected. Embedded with ruby on its pommel, the grip was made of gold with leather attached to it. Not to say much, it was regal in every way.
Keeping a dagger under the pillow was nothing new to me, almost every royal does that for we have someone or the other after our lives; I used to do the same too, for there were many soldiers of darkness, lurking in the shadows waiting for their time to strike but it pained my heart to see Nyrvig do the same.
'What all did he have to face without his mother?' I mused and my fingers caressed against his cheek making his eyes shoot open. It was as if he was in some emergency or attack that his body moved on its own to swat away my hand but he stopped it midway.
There was silence in the room for a while before I dismissed the maids with my other hand to give us shreds of privacy we could attain.
"What is the matter Nyr- Arya?" I queried looking into his eyes with my tongue yet again almost rolling out his name instead of calling him 'Arya'. He thoroughly enjoyed my lack of eloquence because his face was considerably relaxed and a smile was articulated on his lips.
"Still not used to me being your husband?" The tone of mischief was not veiled making me roll my eyes at him.
'Always joking, even when-' Remembering my source of worry, my face returned to its grim form.
"You didn't answer my question." I probed further, making him sigh in defeat.
"Love and warmth are unusual to me." He whispered the anguish in his voice making my heart clench. The situation suddenly got uncomfortable and the room lost its warmth.
"What made you like this Arya?" I breathed out the question.
"What made me like this?" He scrunched his brows before bursting into peals of laughter, "Nothing made me anything Vijaya. I am who I am and no one could change that. Surely, things would have been good if my mother was there. The palace could be a vicious place for motherless children, thankfully my father was there to protect me at times but there were times when his absence was stark."
His words indeed held truth, children without mothers were the most vulnerable beings in the harem, and losing them to the obscurity was nothing new of the sort. Him surviving the darkness- my lips could only tremble thinking about the possible life he had to face.
"I-I understand." A lone tear articulated by my eyes slithered down my cheeks wondering what if on that fateful day, Bhumija had not died.
'Was it some twisted salvation she got through her death?' I mused but that came out some vicious trail of thought that one should never think of.
"Do you?" His lips curled into a smile but the agony within it was easily traceable. The answer was no, I was not qualified enough to understand the ache of his heart but still, I nodded to provide some solace to his heart that was twisting in agony for so long.
"Lies." He whispered near my ears before exiting the room and finally giving me space to cry out peacefully for him. It was foolish of me to do so but my mind wasn't strong enough to ward off my emotions on seeing his similarities with Bhumija.
After a long time, my sobs subsided and I regained my composure. I called all of my maids to help me get ready for my day ahead. As a newly wedded wife and also as the candidate for the to-be-palace head, I was supposed to be loaded with fine pieces of jewelry. My weight was soon surpassed by the weight of my jewels and my shoulders slumped due to it.
While half the maids were busy adding the grandeur, the other half was busy trying to veil any form of paleness on my face by sprinkling rouge on it. Apart from this, the puffiness of my swollen eyes was subdued by applying kohl for tears were seen as a sign of weakness.
During the time of readying me up for the events of today, my mind was playing various scenarios of the incidents that might occur at the temple with the priestess. I tried to come up with a solution but all efforts seemed to go in vain. My interaction with Nyrvig about Daksha ran into my mind when an idea struck me. I dismissed all of my maids, except Chanchala and Shailja, and tossed open my various trunks finding the thing that I required.
"Are you looking for something Rajkumari?" Shailja's meek and scared voice resonated in the otherwise silent room, only disturbed by the sounds of my ornaments.
"My dagger." I turned towards them, witnessing confusion flash in both their eyes. Their faces spoke that they were hesitant to ask the reason but curious enough to suppress the urge.
"If Daksha speaks something ill about me, then I would prove her prophecy wrong." My words sounded a bit meaningless but it was the only best way to escape the situation.
"You are going to kill her?" Chanchala's voice was dripping with terror and her eyes wide whereas Shailja's face became pale and she was slightly shivering at her spot. I merely smiled at them and then opened a case, containing my dagger glinting underneath the sunlight.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Her answer would decide her fate."
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Arya- A method to address husband
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Resurgence of Kohl
Historical Fiction"This..." His lips parted but no words followed and his grip on my scorched hand loosened. "...Is a reminder that I have to burn several times more to rise again." A smile articulated on my lips and I intervened my fingers to his. ❁┈┈┈❅ ⋞〈 ✿ 〉⋟ ❅┈┈┈...
