Dark Knight

By Shruti Trivedi

Once his nation's most beloved Prince and famed General, Aaryan Singh Shekhawat now lives in disgrace, accused of treason and murder in a world where honour is everything. Driven by hate, Aaryan thirsts for revenge and retribution from those who wronged him. When he crosses paths with the sweet but feisty Siya Udawat, a princess from an allied house, both of their worlds are thrown into turmoil.
A chain of events is set in motion which pits them against numerous foes, some known and others yet to be discovered. As Aaryan and Siya encounter unexpected challenges and unearth secrets from Aaryan's past that threaten to destroy his future, their journey is changed irrevocably in this story spanning across the grandeur of the Rajputana courts to war-torn lands overrun by enemies.
Dark Knight is a tale of passion and promise following soul mates who find each other in the unlikeliest of circumstances and must discover what their love means to them. The story contains elements of action and suspense which will have readers hooked until the final page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Feb 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781789010305

Shruti Trivedi

A UK resident of Indian origin, Shruti Trivedi is a practising solicitor by profession and heads up a busy department for a national law firm. Her previous writing experience includes blogging, writing fan fiction and writing for online entertainment publications in India.

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Dark

Knight

Shruti Trivedi

Copyright © 2018 Shruti Trivedi

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

Dedicated to all my online readers who kept me motivated all through the writing process and to all those like me whose dream it is to write …

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PHONETIC PRONUNCIATIONS OF NAMES/PLACES

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

EPILOGUE

NOTES

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are so many people I want to thank. I am so grateful – I thank God each day for making it possible for me to realise my dream of writing a novel someday, despite the rather strenuous demands of real life!

I want to thank my parents for having instilled a love of reading and fiction in me since childhood. I have many happy memories of books being read to me almost constantly and of long and involved dinner table discussions about imaginary worlds, history and characters.

Special mention to my loving husband, Richard, for always encouraging me and never being cross during the six incredibly demanding months it took to write Dark Knight, whilst juggling work and other commitments. Also, he gets the credit for assisting with the tedious process of helping me format a long novel post copy edit.

Thank you to those from my family and friends (you know who you are) who took the time to offer me your good wishes and/ or showed interest in my writing journey.

A massive thank you to two very special friends – Shruti Paranjpe and Neeti Chauhan. These girls were my virtual angels. They were part of Dark Knight since its inception as an idea in my head to this print version. I ran endless plot twists past them, we discussed a huge amount in minute detail and they offered me such constructive feedback, it was invaluable. Neeti is also one of the most talented graphic designers I have met and devoted endless hours to designing beautiful covers and images for the story when it was shared online.

To each and every one of my beta readers, i.e. those who read this story on-line on the forums it was shared on – you are such an integral part of the Dark Knight’s journey and mine, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You all truly kept me going, ensuring I never quit and helped me constantly try to improve my writing so I didn’t disappoint you.

Finally, thank you to each and everyone who reads the novel and supports this fledgling writer.

PHONETIC PRONUNCIATIONS OF NAMES/PLACES

(Alphabetical Order)

Aaryan – Aaar Yeh Uhn

Amar – Uh Mar

Angad – Uhn Ghud

Anjaamghad – Uhn Jaam Ghud

Badri – Bud Rih

Devendra – Deh Van Druh

Durga Kansal – Dur Gah Kun Saal"

Ehsaas Nagar – Eh Sah Suh Nuh Gurh

Jaimal – Jay Muhl

Jaswant – Jus One Tuh

Kalavati – Kuh Lah Vah Tih"

Kalyani – Kul Yah Neeh

Keerti – Keer Tih

Maya – Maa Yah

Moud – Maud

Padmavati – Pad Maah Vuh Teeh

Pawan – Puh One

Pratibha – Prah Teeh Bhaa

Rana – Raa Naah

Rani – Raa Nee

Ranjit Chauhan – Run Jee Tuh Chou Haanh

Ratan – Ruh Tun

Rathore – Rah Thod

Raunak – Roh Nuhk

Saamvant – Saam One Tuh

Samarjit – Suh Mer Jeet

Samkalgoonj – Sum Kul Goonjh

Santoshpur – Sun Tosh Pur

Shekhawat – Sheh Kha Wut

Shikharpur – Shee Khar Pur

Sihalghad – See Haal "Gh

Sihalpur – See Hal Pur"

Singh – Sing

Siya – See Yah

Suchitra – Soo Chit Raa

Surekha – Soo Reh Khaa

Surendra Bagri – Soo Ren Dra Baah Greeh

Sushena – Soo Sheh Nuh

Udawat – Oo Dah Wut

Udawgunj – Ooh Duw Gun Juh

Vali – Vaah Lih

Veer – Veer

Vijaya – Vee Jah Yah

Vijayendra – Vee Jay Ehn Druh

PROLOGUE

PURGATORY

1803: SHIKHARPUR DISTRICT,

MARWAR

THE ROYAL DUNGEONS

The sound of the whip lashing across the man’s already scored back echoed in the pit-like depths of the dank, dark cell. He was held shackled by his wrists, his unkempt matted locks half covering his gaunt face, but his eyes blazed pinpoints of silent rage and flaming abhorrence. They belied his racked frame’s surrender to the sting of the lash being applied by a sweating guard, under the tutelage of a pinch-faced man.

Have you had enough? sneered Surendra Bagri to the prisoner. I can order a stop, but you must learn to curb your filthy temper, Prince! The last was said with particular venom, very close to his captive’s bowed face.

As if awakened by a charge of electric energy, the chained man’s head darted up, like an injured but powerful panther. Returning the malice in Bagri’s eyes with a frightening hatred, he spat in his face in response. Bagri stumbled back in shock and alarm, as even in this state, the man could incite fear. Recovering, Bagri ordered a fresh round of beating, when an impervious voice rang out,

Enough! Stop this instant!

Bagri rounded in fury to whomever it was that dared interrupt his sadistic enjoyment, but blanched on seeing the entrant to the cell. His manner turned to one of forced deference.

"Rani Sahiba¹, you?"

The inmate tried to force his eyes open to look at the haughty woman who had entered the gloom, but the dimness, coupled with the sweat running in his eyes, made it difficult.

He let out an almost disbelieving, "Maa…²", which drew her eyes to him. The supreme distaste marking her face melted away, replaced with compassion and horror, a suspicious sheen forming over her flashing eyes before she faced Bagri sternly.

Release him at once! You were under strict orders that he must not be tortured and I will see to it that you are punished for this.

With fear underlying his weasel eyes, Bagri wheedled, "But Rani Saa³, he was being treated excellently. However, he is insubordinate and tries to escape, and is a traitor and a murderer. If only he would confess—"

Enough, she cut him off. Nonsense! He does not confess, as he doesn’t know anything. You know he has lost his mind – the physician has confirmed it. And I have come to take him.

Oh, but how can I allow this? He is dangerous… and Rana Ji’s orders… he wheezed, almost complacent.

Be careful, Bagri. My husband may be your king, but don’t be foolish enough to antagonise me. I can make you disappear as quickly as you do the numerous souls sent here. In any case, you need not worry. I have fresh orders. He is certified insane and this is no place for him. He has served almost two long years being subjected to God knows what. You and I both know what you do is no justice. You hate him! He was the best and bravest commander we had. You wanted to break him, and you and others have driven him mad – but no matter. I have come to take my own and you will not stand in my path.

Suchitra Shekhawat was not particularly tall, but every inch of her regal bearing conspired to make her tower over Bagri in that miserable chamber as she flung the edict at him. There was no mistaking the words of release scrawled in the king’s hand, nor the distinctive Shekhawat seal. Cowering now in an almost ubiquitous manner, Bagri had to relinquish his inmate.

Suchitra would not let him or his guards touch her nephew. Instead, she commanded her own men to tenderly deposit her charge to her waiting carriage, letting him slump on her lap, murmuring as she stroked his fevered brow and wiped his face, uncaring of the damage to her lush garments.

Maa… he mumbled again, wonderingly staring up at her loving face in the speeding carriage.

Aaryan… my poor child, I have you. Your mother and I will care for you and they won’t hurt you again. I am so sorry it took me so long. They say you are mad, but you will be with us again and safe.

Aaryan felt the words wash over him, hoping that this was not a dream – though he had not dreamed for years. All he had were nightmares and none of those felt like this, so he surrendered to the sonorous pull and gave in to the exhaustion and darkness that claimed him, oblivious to the jostling journey that took him towards his former home.

CHAPTER 1

1804

SHIKHAR MAHAL,

SHIKHARPUR, MARWAR

The cortege poured through the majestic gates of Shikhar Mahal – both a beautiful palace and formidable fortress, housing the powerful Shekhawats, rulers of the principality loosely named after them and its relatively hilly position. Suchitra, flanked by her sister-in-law, Surekha, and eldest daughter-in-law, Pratibha, met them with the customary ritual accouterments and welcomed ‘Saamvant’⁴ Jaswant Singh Udawat. The Saamvant was an important ally and one of the guardians of the empire’s secret. Jaswant Singh was no brilliant statesman or commander, but he was steadfastly loyal to Rana Ratan Singh Shekhawat, and had paid for this with the loss of men, wealth and his home. Thus, he had to be brought into the fold and his lost territory had to be reclaimed from the marauding invaders who had caused the Saamvant to evacuate his relatively modest stronghold.

As an astoundingly beautiful woman and a young girl emerged from a carriage, Surekha muttered in the background about how it was typical that Jaswant Singh should have travelled ahead with her. Keeping her smile in place, Suchitra greeted Padmavati, Jaswant Udawat’s second wife, who brought with her the whiff of scandal. Suchitra’s eyes then went to the girl who had also alighted, assuming her to be her daughter, but noted the lack of resemblance in the pretty, placid features and lowered eyes.

And this must be your lovely daughter, Siya? Suchitra queried, struck with the composed way the girl held herself.

"Oh, this is my younger daughter, Keerti. Siya follows with her Vijaya Maa. Didi⁵ likes Siya’s high spirits and my Keerti is better company for me." She smiled with genuine affection at her stepdaughter, who also smiled back shyly.

Just then, another carriage pulled up. Before it had even come to a halt, the doors were yanked open and a body could be seen almost spilling out, tripping over her own feet in her haste. Jaswant Singh clutched at the impatient occupant, admonishing her fondly. Padmavati shook her head and Keerti looked on with masked mild irritation.

And that is Siya! explained Padmavati to a silently disapproving Suchitra, who had decided notions of how young princesses should behave. At the same time, a rather frail but elegant lady alighted with the help of a cane. Vijaya could not boast of the conspicuous loveliness of her husband’s younger wife, but what she lacked in beauty, she made up for in presence. Suchitra could now see the stamp both girls carried of their birth mothers. The exuberant Siya may lack the refinement of her half-sister, but she was certainly blessed with an ethereal loveliness redolent of her mother. Her smile lit up her elfin face and she had a sylph-like aura, compared to the cherubic features of her sister, who paled in comparison for want of the animated spark that denoted her one-year-older half-sister. At twenty, Siya was slight but very comely, with long dark hair that rippled down her back and beautifully expressive eyes that dominated the perfect oval of her face, offset by her slightly pointed chin. Suchitra saw how indulgently Vijaya smiled at Siya as she took her arm, shooting a stern glance at Keerti who delayed in helping.

Suchitra was glad it was Keerti who was soon to be betrothed to her spoilt princeling and not the feisty Siya. Not that the haughty Shekhawats would seek the hand of the daughter of a second wife, tainted with somewhat unsavory gossip about a love affair, which had only been legitimised years later.

A pair of eyes followed the hectic activity in the vast courtyard below from the lower west wing tower. They took in the arrival of the guests and the idiosyncrasies that those greeting them observed at close quarters. The sound carried up to the floor where he was housed and hearing Keerti introduced, Aaryan smirked at how meek Raunak’s intended fiancée looked. Exactly the opposite of what attracts him, he thought, with amused satisfaction. He found his eyes drifting back to the one called Siya, as she darted about, looking around with lively interest.

I wish these pesky people hadn’t come, but I am bored and it may be fun to meddle in my beloved cousin’s love life. Although I doubt there is much mischief I can stir – the bride seems the obedient type. I just wish the news I am waiting for comes soon. Even so, I am no further in finding a way to get what I need and leaving this cage. How much pleasure it would give me to destroy any match for Raunak, but he may not even mind with this one. I wish that dratted girl would stop flitting around. She’s distracting me!

Just at that moment, as if his voice carried to her, Siya suddenly looked up, her eyes unerringly finding him amid the shadows. They both froze and, despite the distance, it seemed as if an odd force compelled them to lock startled gazes. Something elemental gripped them. Siya could see a tall man; he was shrouded by darkness, but his angular jaw and fiercely blazing eyes were in glaring contrast to the mellow visage of the majestic palace in the background. The sun shone behind her, but spread a diffused light all around, making him visible enough. He seemed to be in a forbidding cage of steel bars. To her fanciful imagination, he resembled a captured angel from the dark side – menacing, but starkly beautiful.

To Aaryan, Siya was framed by the sun behind her, casting its glow to catch the little mirrors in her brightly coloured lehengha, making her sparkle with little pinpoints of dancing white and gold light. She was all that was bright and happy and lacking in his life. He hated her in that moment. She signified all that he had lost. Something of the intensity of his unfathomable emotions must have transmuted to her, as she shuddered, releasing Aaryan from his inexplicable trance. He hurriedly stepped back into the gloom of the room, away from her staring gaze.

CHAPTER 2

As Keerti gracefully plucked the strings of the ‘veena’⁶, she could have been mistaken for an ancient painting come to life. Across from her, Siya smiled in pleasure, her body lightly swaying to the music, her own instrument by her side. The other ladies present smiled benignly at Keerti. Even the men, some slight distance away, seemed to be enjoying the interlude from their political discussions.

As the last strain of the notes wafted away, Suchitra exclaimed in delight. Keerti had developed a particular closeness with the Shekhawat matriarch and was often seen following her around the grand corridors of the Mahal and by her side when Suchitra spent time with her nephew. The usually factitious Aaryan had amazed everyone by forging a childish friendship with his future sister-in-law. Their initial meeting had been unusual in itself. Aaryan had been creating a ruckus, telling Suchitra that he wanted to meet the ‘dulhan’⁷ everyone was talking about. Suchitra had been exasperated, but as Aaryan stamped his feet, a silently gliding Keerti appeared, explaining that she had heard that the prince wanted to meet her and she was equally anxious to meet him, having heard many tales of his bravery. Suchitra’s estimation of Keerti went up as the princess proceeded to help feed a suddenly docile Aaryan, who was soon referring to her as ‘Dulhan Bhayli’⁸, endorsing her as a bride and his friend.

The exact opposite marked his reaction to Siya, however, when she accompanied her sister to greet the disgraced prince, whose tales were whispered all over. Aaryan seemed to take a strange aversion to her. He had momentarily been stunned when she appeared; at close quarters, he was able to absorb all the details of form and grace that distance had concealed. Siya’s face registered sudden comprehension, but also marked confusion when she recognised the brooding presence from the tower. It seemed as if the surprising perception of her regard offended its subject deeply. He querulously declared that he didn’t want to play with this girl – she should leave. He escalated his tirade and, in doing so, studiously avoided looking too deeply at Siya, who seemed fascinated by something she sensed in him. Siya was forced away. However, as Aaryan spent time around Keerti, he often came across Siya, too. This intensified when Prince Raunak began to join them with increasing frequency.

Raunak behaved impeccably during his supervised meetings with Keerti. He looked suitably interested in his bride and, under the watchful eyes of their chaperones, tried to engage her in careful conversation. Keerti, though clearly smitten by the charming prince, was overcome by a painful shyness, which further inhibited her already restrained manner. As Aaryan had correctly surmised, the form of deferential behaviour that would thrill conservative duennas quickly bored the erratic prince. He tended to be attracted to fun and bright things, and it was therefore inevitable that the lively Siya piqued his interest. Siya, for her part, doted on her family and was in a state of fevered excitement over her sister’s forthcoming nuptials. She went out of her way to facilitate conversation between the two and, at first, it seemed perfectly natural that Raunak spoke more to Siya, especially as all Siya did was highlight her sister’s endless qualities to him. Aaryan, too, was mellow and tractable around Keerti, so while a watchful guard was still stationed in his vicinity, he was allowed to mingle with the rest, sometimes also including Prince Jaimal and his gentle wife, Pratibha.

Therefore, it became usual to spot the Udawat sisters in the scenic grounds, whiling away hours engaged in simple activities with the princes and their family. However, as the days wore on, both sisters started having misgivings, as Siya’s increasing attempts to push Raunak towards Keerti did not appear fruitful and Keerti seemed glum at this lack of progress. She found herself always tongue-tied around Raunak and he would often get a faraway look in his eyes after token efforts to draw her out of her shell. The difficulty was that Keerti was too deep a stream for a shallow psyche to plumb. The other who drew his eye also had uncharted depths to her, but those could only be discovered if she let anyone pierce the superficial cheer and friendliness she exuded to most. Raunak certainly was not discerning enough to understand that about Siya, and neither were majority of the inhabitants of the palace.

There was, however, another whose eyes were often on Siya when she was unaware. She seemed to have an odd sixth sense, though, which often threatened to catch her distant observer out. If their gazes clashed, Aaryan would quickly don the mask of madness he had perfected. However, today in the palace hall, Aaryan found his eyes drifting to Siya uninterrupted while she was immersed in the music. He had noticed how she seemed to hold only genuine affection for her sister, whose emotions Aaryan suspected were far more complex. When it looked like Ratan Singh would call for the men to retire, Raunak demanded that Siya follow on from Keerti’s performance. A look of chagrin flashed across Keerti’s eyes before she dropped her gaze, supplemented by a keen look from Vijaya. The rest of the women were surprised and Suchitra looked disapprovingly at her son. Siya demurred, but it would have been churlish to rebuff such a request. So, after a halfhearted indication by Suchitra, Siya picked up her ‘sitar’.

It was no great surprise that both sisters should have chosen different implements to express their musical abilities. While Keerti had mastered the veena, Siya preferred the sitar – both were of the same family, but the sitar was a derivation reputedly perfected by a Moghul court musician in later centuries. It was soon apparent that if Keerti had exuded a soothing ambience with her rendition, Siya’s skill had the power to stir something passionate and intensely alive in the listener. Her fingers flew over the strings, as she played with a wholehearted commitment and joyful, yet respectful, abandon. The tune she played was not one recognisable to her audience and Suchitra guessed that this was a composition this rather interesting girl had created herself.

To Aaryan, the effect of the absorbed player and the resonance of sound she brought forth recalled within him emotions he liked to keep buried and which made him feel too much. Just when he thought he would scream with the agony of it, the notes rose to a crescendo before crashing to a finish. Siya opened her eyes to her taken-aback audience and flushed as she realised how carried away she had been. All was made worse by Raunak, who had been out of his depth in terms of the musical prowess exhibited, but expressed appreciation in fulsome terms. Siya brushed these off, but it caused Keerti’s expression to darken.

Suchitra resolved that she would curtail any future joint demonstrations of talent, especially when her younger son was around. She could see Aaryan fretting; he seemed to dislike Siya’s rendition as much as he seemed to shun the girl herself. It puzzled Suchitra and she was back to worrying about Aaryan. She had thought him settled into a routine in the past year, since she had reclaimed him from the rotting cells. If only she had managed that before, she self-recriminated.

Aaryan had been taken after that terrible day when she and Surekha had been attending to relatives distant from Shikharpur. By the time the news reached them, and they had journeyed back in shocked haste, they had lost weeks and he had been captured for questioning. Given the seriousness of the crimes, her husband had been incensed and had kept his whereabouts from Suchitra for a further period. Even once she had found him, Ratan Singh was unshaken in his anger and would not let Suchitra or Surekha bring Aaryan back. Aaryan was apparently kept isolated and questioned, but not tortured, until he was shifted to the dungeons under the notorious Bagri’s control. Suchitra set her own network to good use and managed to procure reports of unauthorised beatings and then insanity, enabling her to issue an ultimatum to her husband, which he reluctantly bowed down to.

It had thus taken Suchitra a total of two years of relentless efforts to have Aaryan released and even that through a machinated plea of insanity, which she was uncertain of herself. Suchitra knew that she had that vile woman to thank for part of this and for the state of their once brilliant prodigy, now ruined at twenty-five. She and her cursed daughter had always spelled trouble, and while she could not rejoice in their fate, she still hated them. She could not believe that Aaryan was capable of treason and whatever had happened, it must have had something to do with her – but, of course, that could never be proven, as some secrets go to the grave with their custodians.

She looked across at the stern countenance of her husband and knew from the deepening brackets around his pursed mouth that he, too, was brooding. For it all came down to the blueprint that was the lynchpin of the Shekhawat Empire and its allies. The treasure they cherished was both a literal hidden hoard of weapons, riches and supplies that could fund a war against any threat, and the map and key made to enshroud it in secrecy from enemies. Their duty stemmed from a system devised by an illustrious ancestor, King Nagabhata⁹, in ancient times, before the empire was divided.

The old scion had designed a map, but it was cleverly split into four parts. Each part contained secrets and information not pertaining to its own kingdom, but that of its relevant ally, operating as an automatic check and balance on power and politics. This would ensure that no king in partnership with the rest would misuse what he guarded, as someone else could play him the same hand. A part had always belonged to the Shekhawats, one to the Udawats, a third with Rana Vijayendra Singh Rathore and a fourth had long been missing, until Aaryan himself reclaimed lost glory by carrying out a daring expedition and obtaining the missing part of the quartet map. However, when he was captured, not only was this part of the map missing, but even more crucially, the key that was the only method of reading any of the maps was gone, too. For the beauty of the map was both its divided entity and a key that translated to an ancient system of code that was the sole way of deciphering the information in the maps. Aaryan had been discovered with the dead body of his lover, whom he had planned to marry despite vociferous opposition from his family, but without the fourth part of the map, the all-important key code and the prized heirloom sword that had been awarded to him by his proud uncle for services rendered in battle.

As both Suchitra and Ratan Singh recalled themselves to the present, they cast a forlorn glance at their once dazzling prince, who skulked in a corner mumbling to himself with a wild look in his eyes.

CHAPTER 3

1800

OUTER EXPANSES OF SHIKHARPUR,

MARWAR

The rich draperies of the tent pitched amid the desert shone in the glow from the lanterns within. A big desk in the corner was strewn with papers in a domain that screamed battles and weaponry. However, the man sat inside it was suitably distracted from the arduous tasks before him – seeing the reason for his diversion, it was easy enough to understand. A woman in flowing, diaphanous garments had her arms around him and his handsome, angular face was soft as he gazed indulgently at her.

What childishness is this, Maya? You must leave. You cannot be found here. As it is, we take a risk.

Her pretty face arranged itself in a becoming pout, showing off her full lips to their best advantage – as she well knew. Oh Arya! Are you not happy to see me? I travelled so far. And are we not getting married in a few days?

Aaryan’s smile disappeared, to be replaced by a furrowed brow and tensed tone. Careful, Maya. We are not to talk of that. You know how much upset that is going to cause. We have to keep that entirely between us.

Oh, on that, Arya, I have something to tell you, she responded, sheepishly, looking guiltily at him from beneath her lashes.

Instantly stern, a different Aaryan replaced the gentle lover, highlighting why he made such a formidable soldier and spy despite his relative youth. Who have you told? Not your mother?

At the anger in his voice, Maya’s eyes immediately filled with tears. "How quick you are to judge. You believe I would do something to spoil our plans? No, I didn’t tell my mother! She will be hugely upset when we flee. I know you said you would somehow protect her from the king’s wrath once he finds out you have defied him to run off with a lowly court lady’s daughter, who is only fit to dance in the grand ‘mehfils’¹⁰, but I trust you. I wish you would trust me!"

After this tirade, some minutes were lost in trying to pacify an irate Maya, but Aaryan soon steered the conversation in his single-minded fashion back to his original question, earning the following explanation.

Uh oh. Stop worrying. I only told the other person you trust most in the world besides your best friend. Raunak! I told him and it was he that made it possible for me to journey here to surprise you. He is happy for us! All the previous confusion was a misunderstanding and I told him how much we mean to one another and he’s happy. He understood that I wanted to see you before you came back to court as the hero due to what you have managed to reclaim for the kingdom.

Aaryan hushed her again, casting a shrewd look around, despite knowing they were uninterrupted. Maya continued to babble on as he fought with the exhaustion that threatened to overcome him after days of gruelling skirmishing. It was that last endeavor that had finally enabled him to win back the lost part of the Nagabhata Map, which could make all the difference to their war effort against the fast encroaching advances made by the ravening British East India Company, as well as their ever-present internal enemies.

When the fabric entrance of the tent rustled, Aaryan was instantly alert, reaching for his prized sword – an accolade by the king he idolised. However, it was only a servant with a tray bearing two goblets, which Maya divested her of. She walked over to Aaryan with an easy smile, proffering the long-stemmed vessels containing a deep amber liquid. His half-hearted protests were of no avail and Aaryan gave in, deciding to drink sparingly before sending Maya away to safety. However, Maya was in one of her playful moods and insisted they link arms childishly and each sip from the other’s cup. Shaking his head in mild irritation, Aaryan decided to oblige and soon the heady wine mixed with the look in Maya’s eyes, was spreading comforting warmth through his tired limbs. Then his head was suddenly spinning and Maya, too, seemed to be stricken. The chalice in her hand slipped first, lightly bouncing on the floor. Aaryan immediately rose, trying to focus and grab at a gasping Maya, his head reeling with an odd pain as vertigo-like sensations cascaded over him in waves. At the same time, he heard a commotion and, despite the drug he had clearly consumed, fought his will to take control. He felt the hilt of his sword in his hand.

The tent entrance was torn apart and a bevy of armed guards broke in. Maya was convulsing in a frightening manner on the floor, but before Aaryan could do anything, she gave a final twitch and subsided into deathly stillness. Aaryan howled in rage and swung his sword around in an arc with deadly effect, slashing at the intruders, causing blood to spray around the tent, staining himself in the process. However, there were too many of them and he soon felt the strike of a hard object on his head and blinding pain exploding behind his vision. He finally sank to his knees, still desperately trying to get to Maya. A woman had entered, her eyes blazing hate. He recalled her screaming about how this murderous traitor had killed her only child. He wanted to tell Kalavati that her daughter could not be dead and he was not a traitor, but no sound came from his throat and his body would not function. His last thought as darkness took him was that they must not find the map.

1804: SHIKHAR MAHAL, SHIKHARPUR

Aaryan woke with a start, cold sweat beading his brow despite the morning chill in the air. He glanced around disoriented and, out of habit, rubbed his wrists where the chains used to bite, before realising that only his mind still remained trapped. The dratted nightmares are back, thought Aaryan, rising to splash cold water on his face, staring back at the haunted face reflected in the polished surfaces. He had thought that he had learnt to block the reel of memories from the day that had seen both his love and honour snatched from him, leaving him at the mercy of harsh blows to his body and his pride. Maya’s lifeless body and her mother’s screaming accusations, followed by his waking realisation that the reclaimed map was lost and that he had to have been betrayed, and by none other than his beloved cousin, Raunak, had catapulted him into a living nightmare.

The version that Kalavati had proclaimed to the king was that she had travelled to stop her daughter, who was eloping with the prince. The same prince who had struck a bargain with their enemies to hand over the part map and the code key, in exchange for his and Maya’s escape from Shikharpur and a life of luxury within the enemy’s ranks. Aaryan shut his eyes in remembered pain and fury at those vile accusations, and the look on his Bade Baba¹¹ Saa’s face as he asked Aaryan to tell the truth before he was marched away. Kalavati claimed that someone from within the palace had informed her of her daughter’s plans. She was convinced that the traitor prince had feared that Maya would confess their whereabouts to her mother and had killed her to hide his perfidy. Aaryan’s protestations were doomed when it was discovered that the map piece and key were missing. He was further incriminated as he should have never had the key code in his possession and he remained stubbornly silent as to why he was carrying it. However, Aaryan knew at least one person who had betrayed him. Oh yes, Prince Raunak – his very own cousin, who still displayed such touching concern for his one-year-elder Bhai¹² – was the snake in the grass. After all, he had been the only one Maya had foolishly confessed her plans to. Given their past history, it was not, perhaps, surprising that he had done this, although the betrayal had cut worse than any of the whips used on him. Aaryan bitterly recalled how Maya had drunk from the glass meant for him in her silly love play, thus imbibing the poison meant for him and leaving him temporarily unconscious from the draught presumably meant for her. The quisling must have intended to take Maya captive, but fate had thwarted him. Aaryan was convinced that his sword was housed amongst Raunak’s prized possessions that he was so territorial over. And as for the part map and key, his cousin had probably sold them to some enemy, presumably in an effort to fund his dissolute ways, which had been the despair of his stern sire.

Aaryan heard sounds outside and stalked over to the window, which overlooked a beautifully landscaped part of the famed palace grounds. He saw the