H I M
The one he'd die for, wanted to kill him the same,
But death would be a guest he'd welcome, if she promised to sit by his grave.
................................................
H E R
If there was a list of all the sins she was t...
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The queen of Simhavat had forbidden Sanyukta from entering the Palace.
The gaurds blocked the entrance, their spades tilted, preventing Sanyukta from stepping into the Palace of Taransh. Her blood boiled in humiliation, hands fisted under her drapes, eyes ablaze like fire behind her veil. Her resolve and duty were the only things holding her back.
The sound of drums and trumpets blared through the Palace doors, as a crowd of people, dressed in excessive jewelry and blindning gold, emerged out from there. A woman lead them, draped in beautiful emerald saree and astound with gold and diamonds from head to toe. Her face, though smiling, had an ominous look hidden.
She was the Queen. Sanyukta concluded.
The other ladies of the court followed her, equally deceptive smiles adoring their vixen eyes. They halted when they reached her, the queen walking towards Sanyukta with a thal of aarti in her hands. Sanyukta wanted to laugh at their pretentiousness but her face was morphed into that of the sky on a clear day, revealing nothing.
"My dear, you're even more beautiful than I had imagined. " the queen gushed at her, as she rotated the thal in circles, the flaring flame of the diya warning Sanyukta of the danger she was stepping into.
My face is hidden behind my veil. You haven't even seen it, lady. Sanyukta rolled her eyes, the veil curtaining the action from the perched eyes of others.
The queen then clapped her hands twice, the maids bringing a kalash of raw rice and placing them near her feet in response. " Kick it with your right foot and enter into your new home. May your auspicious steps bring wealth and prosperity in our kingdom. " the queen's words were dripping with honey.
Home, Sanyukta mentally scoffed. A flame doesn't make a home out of the tree it was hurled upon. It burns it down to ashes.
Sanyukta obeyed the queen's words, delicate legs kicking the kalash, soft chimes of her anklets resonating through the palace walls in ecstasy. The rice descended, like a waterfall onto the floor, the cheering and clapping of everyone present blurring the lines of truth and pretense.
Sanyukta laid her light feet onto the plush floor, her henna clad feet stinging a bit at the contact, reminding her of the wounds she had procured in the forest while running to save her life, barefoot. The thorns and pricks were merciless, she thought, like the people here. She hid her pain like she hid her lies, veiling them behind a mask of nonchalance.
A collective gasp reverberated through the marble walls of the palace, the people watching the bride in distress, stunned at the sight in front of them. The air had stilled, the baritone of drums and cheers replaced by an utter silence, as if noise was treacherous.
Sanyukta, curious to watch the reason behind this reaction of the people, tilted her head sideways, her own eyes astonished at the sight that greeted her. Her insides twisted, a pit setting in her stomach.
