ᴅɪʟ ᴋɪ ɴᴀʏɪ ᴅʜᴀᴅᴋᴀɴ

c h a p t e r 7

As the night unfolded, during Vikram's dinner, a servant discreetly approached to share the news that Parwati had regained consciousness and was presently finding repose in one of the guest chambers. Politely excusing himself from the dining table, Vikram promptly made his way to attend to the situation.

Pausing in the dimly lit corridor just outside Parwati's chamber, Vikram's attention was drawn to a hushed conversation unfolding between Parwati and the anxious prison guard, whose name eluded Vikram in the moment. Leaning in closer, he discreetly listened to their exchange.

"Do you know who that man in the cell was?" Parwati's voice, tinged with concern, as she sat upright in bed.

"The man? Do you mean Maharaj?" the guard responded, his tone laden with uncertainty.

"Surely he was not the Mah-"

Vikram's cleared his throat, demanding their attention. His interruption cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Maharaj!" The guard stood up and bowed respectfully. Parwati's gaze shifted between Vikram and the guard, a flicker of disbelief briefly crossing her features before understanding dawned. With a subtle gesture, she lowered her head in acknowledgment.

"Privacy" Vikram declared firmly, waiting until the guard had retreated before stepping into the chamber and approaching the foot of the bed. In the soft glow of the chamber's lamplight, Vikram's concern was palpable as he gently broached the delicate topic. "Are you still hurting?" he inquired.

Parwati's response was a subtle shake of her head, her gaze averted and features masked by a veil of shadow. Vikram, unsure of how to proceed, shifted his weight uneasily, his movements betraying his internal struggle.

"Who did this to you?" he pressed, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "I mean, I cannot let a Rajkumari's violation go unpunished" he added, his tone firm and resolute, his commitment to justice unwavering.

Parwati remained silent, her gaze fixed on a distant point in the chamber, still refusing to meet Vikram's eyes. In the depths of her mind, she weighed her options carefully, acutely aware of the precarious position in which she found herself. Naming the general responsible for her suffering would only invite further consequences, as evidenced by her current state of injury, a grim reminder of the general's unchecked power.

In her twenty-five years of life, she had learned the harsh reality of dealing with powerful men – one did not provoke their wrath without dire consequences. And now, faced with the king himself, the embodiment of justice and authority, she couldn't help but wonder if his allegiance to his friend would overshadow any semblance of justice for her.

As Vikram stood before her, his regal bearing a stark contrast to the turmoil within her, Parwati's heart sank with the weight of uncertainty. Would the king truly champion her cause, knowing it was his own friend who had inflicted such harm upon her? The unanswered question hung heavy in the air, a silent plea for vindication echoing within her as she grappled with the fear of what the future might hold.

"I understand" she whispered.

With a solemn nod, Vikram repeated his question, his gaze probing for answers in the depths of Parwati's troubled eyes. "Do you know who did this to you?"

Caught between the weight of truth and the shadows of self-preservation, Parwati hesitated, her resolve wavering. Sensing the high stakes of her response, she opted for caution over candor, her voice barely above a whisper as she shook her head.

"I don't know" she confessed, the words heavy with unspoken truths.

As Vikram sensed the evasiveness in Parwati's responses, his determination to uncover the truth intensified. "Surely you must have seen the person" he pressed, his frustration simmering beneath a composed facade.