Your Self

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Saini loved the gifts Mihira had gotten her— ten perfect sets of bangles in ten interesting colours and a glass chain connected pair  of silver rings to be worn in the index and middle finger

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Saini loved the gifts Mihira had gotten her— ten perfect sets of bangles in ten interesting colours and a glass chain connected pair  of silver rings to be worn in the index and middle finger. The book Mihira had found her as a joke, was the most beloved one. Written by an apparently famous satirical writer, 'three ways to quick death'.

Eklavya judged them both heavily for liking the book. They did not care.

Eklavya's gifts (yes, plural) were all loved by her. Saini quite literally embraced Eklavya as soon as she saw the saree Eklavya had embroidered at the borders with her name. Mihira and Eklavya had both spent a whole night doing that; Mihira correcting the stitches he made wrong and then wiping away his blood because no matter how good of a marksman Eklavya was, he was horrible with a needle.

Mihira was positively convinced that he had more than a dozen needle pricks in his hand.

And yet, he took Saini out to practice archery while Mihira prepared a quiet dinner for the three of them.

She wondered if she could get more moments like these, where she remembered that she was a human too and it was okay to love someone, just for the sake of it. That it was okay to want for company and affection.
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Rukmanetra was quiet when he came to her, almost unnaturally so. He scratched at his right arm as if he had some itch and Mihira silently saw the smooth skin glisten and turn pink under his nails.

Mihira flicked her eyes up at him, calm. Waiting for the moment that they both knew was coming. Mihira was meticulous and a perfectionist to the bone. And if anyone would ever know the truth, it would be the gods, Mihira and one man, alone. The second prince of Vidharbh was  the best detective in his own department. There was a reason he had climbed the ranks so.

She licked her lips, almost feeling her mouth water at the thought of being able to tear into Tarush in more bloody way. Mihira's machete wasn't feeling happy with meticulous planning. Neither was Mihira.

"Where were you three days ago, Devi?" Rukmanetra asked, voice soft as if he was speaking a hymn. His long lashes flickered as he flicked his gaze at her, blinking, as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing in front of him.

Mihira closed her eyes and the wind calmed the burning on her back. She opened her eyes and gazed at Rukmanetra. He seemed to already know the answer, they both did. There was no contempt in his eyes for the laws she had broken but there was no thankfulness in his eyes as well. He will be.

(Afraid to be thankful. Flattered. Unable to believe that he was worth the blood. The bounds of law clawing at him. His duty fighting with his want.)

"Why would you ask a question that I am not qualified to answer, my prince?" She asked, almost achingly soft and playful in her tone, as if she was persuading him.

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