Cittaja || Indian Historical Romance

69.

Shakra left early in the morning while Mayurakshi was still sleeping. He got ready and walked over to Raj Bhavan's study. It was a moment later that Amartya arrived there too.

"Your sudden request for me to show up from Kanakotika is surprising. I would have gotten close to our goal."

"I think we need to deal with Krishneri first."

Amartya sat down on a chair and watched his best friend curiously, his chin resting on his hand. "That girl seems to have great magic on you." Amartya teased him.

"You want me to marry Yuvika?"

Amartya made a face at that question. "That would actually be brilliant torture on you, though."

"Don't be too smart, Amartya."

Amartya laughed at that tone. Amartya had known him since childhood. He had watched Shakra descend into this madness for Mayurakshi. Amartya didn't know what he personally felt about it. "Is she so fed up with them already?" Amartya asked.

"I thought you were starting to be good friends with her. What happened suddenly? You haven't even spoken to her since she came here."

Amartya chuckled. "You are my best friend. You were blindly in love. I am not."

"Listen, Amartya..." Shakra sat in the chair before him. "She's a confused little sparrow. She just did what she thought was right."

Amartya chuckled. "Trust me, I know, Shakra. Her confusion was visible to me. I just can't believe that she let her silliness take over her feelings."

Shakra looked at Amartya dangerously. "You knew she was in love with me?"

"That was her confusion. She was in love with the idea that there was a man who loved her. It made up for the starvation she suffered at her own home. Why do you think she was so much around the Kalika Empire?"

"You didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't my confession to tell you, Shakrajit. It was hers. She herself never came to a conclusion. How could I have given you one? But one thing was true about the assassin hired to kill you in Pragvamsa: they were hired on her order. When she figured out that she couldn't kill you with her own hands, she leaned towards the back-handed method. That reaction of hers is something I cannot forgive her for."

"Oh, come on. She's a 23-year-old girl, Amartya. Did you expect her to have the same maturity as you and me? We're 28 and still make mistakes. Give her that 5-year slack."

"I'm not going to speak to her."

"Don't be an angry bird, Amartya. I feel like she likes talking to you. She used to talk to you."

"Then ask your wife to get off her high horse and come herself." Amartya finished that discussion in that tone. Shakra couldn't get angry at him for that. Especially because he knew Amartya would choose him before everyone else. He was the Agni to his Indra. The Chandra to his Surya. The Vinayaka to his Skanda. Varuna to his Naaga. The Shukra in his Rajayoga.

"My best friend hating my wife is a bit sad."

"Please don't try emotional blackmailing. You don't know how to do it, and I'm immune to it."

Amartya was in his beloved white dhoti. He wore rudrakshamala and bhasma. Tulsimala around his wrist. His long hair was tied up in a bun on top of his head.

"I thought that a brahmana shouldn't hold grudges."

Amartya chuckled. "If all of us were perfect in our jobs, then you should have followed the ideal of Yudhisthira."