Dëerios

II•II |The Widowed Throne|

Kashi traced the scars on her wrists. The handmaidens had insisted on calling the Royal Vaid to tend to them but she had snatched the earthen pot from their hands and poured the remaining boiling water over the gashes, locking the scars into place.

A reminder of what could have been her future should she ever falter.

Now she had clothed herself in a cream-coloured tunic with a V-shaped collar, her sleeves tailored short to reach only till her elbow, the scars emerging against her dark skin. All her sarees were sent out to be donated to the villages. And only the clothes from her tribe remained. The tunics and the trousers.

She could have set her hair down, she thought as she inspected her reflection in the mirror, but her tied hair brought out the absence of the Sindoor in her hairline, the mark of her lost marital status. Her Mother-in-Law would at least approve of that.

The Rajmata had adopted wordlessness since she had left the dais. Only eying her with certain ferocity. But battling with glares was one of the first lessons Kashi had learned in her tribe.

She found the bowl of kajal on her dressing table and sighed. She had purposely chosen not to wear it under her eyes. More because she missed the clarity of her brown irises than simply adding to the ire of her Mother-in-Law. For a fleeting moment, she debated to wear it, just to see what the Rajmata's reaction would be, but her mind took her to the previous night, how the Former Queen had clutched her husband's clothes from his childhood and wept on the floor.

The relief of remaining childless had coursed through her heart. And at that relief, an acidic guilt.

Waving the thoughts away, Kashi held her sword in her right hand, taking comfort in its familiar uneven hilt. It had been years since she had locked it away. Only a day after their marriage, the king had torn away any evidence of her ethnicity- her armlet and the inked stripes on her waist. The latter involved scraping away her flesh.

She had never feared a man in her life but at the time, beholding the crystal lunacy in his gaze as he stared at her naked body, she tasted fear on her lips.

Where she had thought she would finally sleep in peace, the night had haunted her. Sometimes she thought she heard him and sleep would not come to her no matter how much she tried.

'Kashi.'

There it was again. His voice.

She turned, sweat coating her face, blood roaring in her ears.

Her eyes traced the empty bed and for a moment, she could almost feel her husband's presence lining it. But there was no one. Not even the shadow of the late king.

She was imagining things way too much.

Steadying her ragged breathing and clutching her sword, she straightened her tunic when she heard footsteps at the threshold.

"Sahiba," called a voice and Kashi braced herself. There should be no cracks in her armour, no opportunity to be deemed even a shred less than her worth.

Even if she was with her allies.

"Veer," she nodded. "How kind of you to arrive at such a short notice."

"Please, Sahiba." He smiled, his dimple making appearance on his left cheek, "Do not praise this servant for only doing his duty."

She patted him lightly on his arm. "You have my condolences for your father's death. He was a dedicated man with exceptional bravery."

His smile wavered. "Allow me to grieve too, Sahiba. Unfortunate incidents have struck even this fortress." His face betrayed his words. Veer looked anything but solemn. "Though, it gives my heart immense pleasure to see you thriving in these hard times."