Resurgence of Kohl

38. Beginning Anew

"What do you mean Vijaya?" Nyrvig breathed out.

The needle pricked my fingers but they subconsciously sewed through the silk brocade brought from the far north of our kingdom as a gift from Maharaj Surendra for my marriage to Nyrvig. The drops of blood painted the cloth but my mind was still in the plane of last night, reminiscing the bittersweet moments. 

We were close- our breaths mingled and our lips were about to meet when those syllables fell from his lips. I had no answers, what answers could I possibly give for the guilt of my past life- something I was never able to wash away.

The red colour soaked into the red hue of brocade, contriving a different shade of its own that was different from both of them; it was a perfect concoction of ominous and auspicious tints. While my mind was still painted with the thoughts of last night, the articulation of this new hue was hastily stopped by Chanchala who grabbed my hand. 

"Rajkumari you are bleeding," She stated while tending my wound. Her voice was placid, I felt there was something she is concealing from me.

"What is the matter Chanchala?" I queried as I looked at her, tending my wounds. Taking care of one's accomplice was one of the major things to make sure your stance in the harem and I am not going to lose on this to her.

"I should be the one to ask you regarding this Rajkumari." Her rebuttal was quick and I was left sans any word. 

We both had something in mind but there was a veil separating us that rendered our speeches. The talk was left incomplete after the ointment was applied to my pricked fingers.

Under the harsh rays of mid-summer sun, even the expanse of Shakya Pradesh was not left untouched as beads of precipitation started to articulate on my forehead, shimmering under the soft light of Sun intruding from the parted curtains and every other person around me. 

"Get the ice," An over-excited Shailaja entered the chamber; it was as if the heat had little to do with her.

"Why are you on such high horses?" Chanchala questioned her in a languid tone while her fingers adroitly moved through the brocades, making some beautiful embroideries that I can't help but marvel about. 

"These ice are special." Shailaja mused and sat next to me, arranging the brocade that I was previously sewing. Clicking her tongue her gaze shifted to me, " Rajkumari, the brocade is now ruined, should I keep it aside?"

The keep in aside, here meant to irradicate the brocade altogether which made my nose crinkle in annoyance. 

"Wash the blood away." I commanded her before getting back to the topic, "What is so special about this ice?"

"But Rajkumari the blood-" Shailaja started but was stopped by the wave of my hand, the fabric was gifted to me by the monarch himself, I couldn't just irradicate it due to a stain on it.

"You didn't say what is so special about this ice," I probed further while evenly applying the ointment that Chanchala roughly smeared before; she was negligent today- must be the thing troubling her today.

"This ice has been brought by Rajkumar himself for our Rajkumari. He was thoughtful for Rajkumari's discomfort." She giggled while rushing to a maid who was making garland.

"And you were happy like the Rajkumar himself climbed the mountains to bring the ice." One of the maids joked, earning a glare from me.

"What if I did bring the ice from the mountains?" The voice of Nyrvig resounded in the chamber making the maid bite her tongue and rush out of the room along with others who were working there.

"This room is already cold you know," I arranged the hem of my skirt before patting the seat beside me. With a grunt, Nyrvig nodded as if he was disappointed that I didn't praise his efforts. "But it is alright to add ice or two for I am already sweating. Never knew mountains could be this warm, reminds me of home."

He knew I was not talking about real mountains here, it was him who was being praised through my words which made his lips arc in a smile. Like a child, his eyes twinkled as he strode next to me, keeping his head on my lap and playing with the end of my dupatta.

"It could be warmer at times or two, the weather of mountains is difficult to discern easily." He claimed while tracing an embroidery at the end of the cloth. I hummed in response while rolling my eyes at his words.

"You know you have a knack for hurting yourself." He pointed out the blood on my fingers that were seeping out from the ointment applied, making me wince a little.

"Let me get Shailaja to wrap the wound," I muttered while reapplying the ointment that seemed to be cracked in certain regions. "Regardless, it is just a small prick. Nothing to worry about."

"If you say so." Though he agreed, there was an indignant baritone in his voice that made me sigh.

"Don't worry, Arya. I would make sure it is tended well." I comforted him but the exchange made my heart warm, he cared for me like I am some gem of his hand. Unlike my last life, in this life, I got a husband who cared for me and cherished me.

"So what is the plan," I started the topic that was of most concern now. After the dirty trick of Durgamati, staying silent was not an option anymore.

"Plan for what?" His brows furrowed in confusion as if he didn't understand what my stance was.

"Are we going to stay silent? After what Durgamati did?" I gritted my teeth in frustration explaining everything.

"That was exactly what I have in mind. I," He grinned looking at me, leaving me perplexed. "Currently, we stay silent and prepare arrangements for my father's birthday, it is nearby."

With this he got up and called for Shailaja to tend to my pricked finger, leaving me joyous and bewildered at the same time.

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Arya- A way to address husband

Dupatta- a long piece of cloth used by women to cover the upper body

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