Trishalini ~ The Jewel of Mahabaleshgarh

74 ~ King and Queen

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Abhinandan POV

It had been twenty-two years since I had inhaled and exhaled, and never had it felt this suffocating. The air around me had thickened, and the density of blood and power in it had gained a tremendous weight.

All my life, after opening my eyes each day, I would remind myself that this would not be the day when my life ended and the responsibilities enslaved me.

But today was the day when my running ended. 

My head was circled with golden metal adorned with shiny stones. My hand held the weights of the ancestral sword. My shoulders lifted the saffron Shawl, and suddenly, there was no noise, no fight; the fire had lost, the spark had disappeared, and the running lion had finally been caught.

My cheeks hurt, and I could not even smile; my heartbeats were lost. I had not heard them beating, not even around Trisha.

Everything felt distant. My parents, my relatives, my wife. Everything was standing in the opposite direction of me.

And, only I stood alone on this side.

Until last night, I felt like standing after them; today, I am standing before them. The people from whom I used to take advice got scolded and were looking at me with hope and respect.

I sat silent, soaking in the giggles, laughter, and praises they were putting in to express their emotions over my crowning. Even the aroma of spices and food did nothing to spark my soul.

After this day, I could not make mistakes, I could not laugh, I could not cry, I could not sleep a little over the sunrise, I could not take a break from sword fighting, and most importantly, I could not move my eyes off the blood and punishments.

It was not just the luck required to become a King. Just taking birth from a Queen's womb was not enough. The king was born when he made his mind strong enough to realise that his words could kill hundreds of people, his sword lift could make rivers bleed, and his one action could change history.

And I had become that King.

"Abhinandan," My father's voice caught my attention, and I lifted my gaze from the red carpet to look at him.

"Everyone is waiting for you," he said, and I gulped silently. I looked around and noticed that everyone had seated and the food had been served.

Why were they not eating?

I looked back at my father and immediately lowered my gaze, realising I had been sitting in his place.

It was different. It was embarrassing and low, and it was something that made me hate myself.

Inhaling a deep and silent breath, I adjoined my hands to remember God before tearing the poori and dipping it in the saag. My heartbeats returned as I lifted it closer to my mouth.

I was feeling terrible.

But this was to be done.

Not just today but every day after this.

The taste of the spices melted in my mouth, but there was a bitterness in everything.

It was not like I had not been told since childhood that I would become the King. But, the idea had always frightened me rather than fancying.

There was a wave of happiness around me, and it seemed like I was the only one sitting in the darkness.

After I had the bite, they began eating, and the feast had officially started.