13

A royal guard, his horse lathered in sweat, pulled up near Tota and saluted smartly. ‘An invitation for the general,’ he said handing over a silken scroll secured with a red and gold thread.

‘An invitation to what?’

The messenger swung his horse around, ‘To the royal wedding, sir, haven’t you heard? Our king is to be married.’

Saahas examined the invitation with knitted brows. ‘Manmaani! That’s the lady I met at the party, just a month ago.’

‘A month ago! It has all happened rather fast.’

Saahas shrugged, ‘Whatever makes my king happy.’

‘Long live King Vasuket, long live Queen Manmaani, long live the Princes and Princess Hussuri!’ The joyful shouts rang out under the large, bedecked canopy, the gathered guests showering the royal family with marigold flowers and rose petals. The ceremony concluded, the guests lined up to congratulate the royal couple. Chakrawaru stood close at hand, whispering introductions into the queen’s ear, and when he saw the general approaching, a smile of pure malice flickered across his face.

Saahas knelt before the royal family, his gaze fixed on Vasuket, ‘With this sword, O King, I once vowed to protect and serve the throne.’ He held Shakti aloft, the steel blade dazzling in the sun, as if on fire. ‘Today, on this blessed day, I once again declare my allegiance to the throne. Glory be to King Vasuket, glory be to the queen and the royal family.’

The guests applauded, chanting, ‘Glory be to Aum. Hail King Vasuket and Queen Manmaani!’

Vasuket rose to his feet, his face wreathed in smiles, ‘And glory be to General Saahas!’

The crowd went wild, showering the General with flowers.

Ashwath sat as if bewitched, deaf to the uproar, to Hussuri calling his name. He had eyes only for one thing, Saahas’s sword, its alternating pattern of light and dark casting a spell on him.

The king rose up on one elbow, bestowing a loving glance at his sleeping bride, his finger lightly tracing the rim of her ear. The rejoicing and festivities had carried on late into the night, the newlyweds tumbling into bed exhausted. Yet, he had trembled for her, and the queen had offered herself shyly, like a fresh bud quickly blossoming at his touch, delighting him. Vasuket sighed. It had been a night of wanton pleasures, the kind he had not known before.

A ray of sunshine peeped through a chink in the heavy drapes screening the bed. Tiptoeing to the window, Vasuket looked out at the woodland. The copper pods had bloomed in the summer heat, their small, yellow flowers bursting on every branch. A feeling of immense wellbeing washed over him. There wasn’t a cloud in the clear sky to cast a shadow on his happiness.

Suddenly, he started. ‘I am becoming forgetful,’ he murmured, hurrying to face the sun. ‘Aum, Aum,’ he intoned the sacred salutation, his head bent in prayer.

Manmaani opened one sleepy eye and groaned, ‘Oh, do come back to bed, darling. It is an ungodly hour to be up and about,’ and Vasuket, laughing happily, complied.

Destiny heaves a sigh. ‘And this is where I fell asleep, certain that since the ball had been set in motion, it required no watching over.’