A knock on my door broke through my turbulent thoughts. It was Sohan, one of my most trusted guards. "Your Majesty, there's been a disturbance in the southern wing. We've received reports of an intruder."

My pulse quickened. The southern wing housed sensitive documents and confidential chambers. "Show me," I commanded.

We moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors; the only sound the soft shuffle of our footsteps and the distant murmur of the palace at rest. Sohan led me to the scene, where a few guards were already investigating. The door to the library was ajar, its lock shattered.

I entered cautiously, my senses on high alert. The room was in disarray, with papers scattered across the floor. My eyes narrowed as I spotted a figure darting towards the open window. I recognized the person immediately—Kanchana.

"Stop her!" I shouted, but it was too late. Kanchana leapt through the window, disappearing into the night.

Without hesitation, I followed, scaling the stone ledge with practised ease. The palace grounds were vast, illuminated by the moonlight. I caught sight of Kanchana running towards the gardens. My heart raced as I pursued her, weaving through the maze of trees and hedges.

"Kanchana!" I called out. "What are you doing?"

She glanced back, her eyes wild. "There's more at stake than you realize, Your Highness!"

I closed the distance between us, grabbing her by the arm. "Enough with the riddles. Tell me what's happening."

She struggled against my grip, but I held firm. "There are forces conspiring against the kingdom. Someone within the palace is plotting against the royals. I was trying to find evidence."

Her words hit me like a cold splash of water. "Why would you be involved in this?"

"I'm not involved. I'm trying to help," she said urgently. "But I need to find the evidence before it's too late."

Before I could respond, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, lunging at us. I reacted instinctively, pushing Kanchana aside and drawing my sword. The figure, cloaked in black, moved with a deadly precision. We engaged in a fierce battle, the clash of steel ringing through the night.

I fought with all my strength, driven by the need to uncover the truth. Each strike was precise, and my every move was calculated. The figure was skilled, but I managed to land a few solid blows, forcing them back.

Kanchana, despite her initial hesitation, joined the fray, using a small dagger to assist. Together, we managed to subdue the attacker, forcing them to the ground. Breathing heavily, I pulled off the figure's hood, revealing a face I recognized—the former treasurer who had now turned traitor. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

The traitor smirked, blood trickling from his mouth. "You're too late. The plans are already in motion. The kingdom will fall, and there's nothing you can do about it."

With a final, defiant laugh, he bit down on a hidden capsule, releasing a puff of smoke that quickly enveloped him. By the time the smoke cleared, he was gone, leaving us with more questions than answers.

I turned to Kanchana, who was visibly shaken. "What was that about? Who else is involved?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice trembling. "But we need to act quickly. There's a conspiracy at the highest levels, and we need to uncover it before it's too late."

We returned to the palace, our minds racing with the implications of the night's events. I knew that we had to be careful. There was no telling who might be involved or how deep the conspiracy ran. I increased security around the palace, tightening our defences. After a few minutes, a pigeon moved around me. I recognised the purple tie on the neck. The bird was from my uncle, who had always been a trusted advisor. It flew down to sit at my hand, and I untied the note.

The note was brief but alarming. "Anshuman, there are whispers of a rebellion brewing. The factions within the palace are growing bolder. Act swiftly. Your uncle."

My heart pounded. The rebellion was not just a distant threat; it was here, in the very walls of our home. I had to act decisively to preserve the stability of the kingdom. I summoned my closest advisors and began to plan our next moves. 

"You need sleep," Tara's voice cut through our discussion. Everyone in the room bowed to her as she walked towards me.

"Not now, Maharani," I said, looking at the maps of the palace.

"Now, Ansh," her voice broke, and I looked up at her. My Tara's eyes were filled with tears.

"Ekaant(Privacy)," I said, and all the ministers left the room. I walked and embraced her, "What happened, Tara?"

"You were attacked," she sobbed, "You did not even let me know. You let Kanchana come and tell me."

I had not asked Kanchana to inform Tara about this. That woman!

"Tara," I coaxed her, "I didn't want you to be worried."

"But then why did Kanchana know?" she asked.

"Because she was one of the people chasing the intruder. The traitor was Mantri Praveksh," I replied.

"The former treasurer?" she asked, and I nodded.

"Please let me know if you need anything. Even if you have a scratch, let me know. I want to know it before her," she said

"I understand," I said softly, holding her close. "I am here for you. We both need to be strong for each other."

Tara nodded, her tears falling freely. I took a deep breath and said, "The tithi of Tritiya is in three days. We need to start preparing for the memorial ceremony."

Tara looked at me, a mix of sorrow and gratitude in her eyes. "Yes, we will need to be ready."

I walked with Tara to her chambers and lay down with her. I heard her falling into slumber, but to me, sleep was far away. My mind went back to two years ago.

FLASHBACK: TWO YEARS AGO

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden light over the palace gardens where Tara and I were enjoying a rare moment of peace. Seated on the ornate swing, her laughter was a soothing melody against the backdrop of the evening breeze. Tara, heavily pregnant, looked radiant, her joy evident in every smile.

Our tranquil moment was abruptly shattered. Tara's laughter turned into a gasp, her face contorting in sudden pain. She clutched her abdomen, her eyes wide with fear. "Anshuman, I... I feel something terrible," she managed to say, her voice trembling with dread.

My heart raced. "What's happening, Tara?" I asked urgently.

Her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. "I don't know. Something is wrong. Please, get me inside."

I lifted her from the swing and rushed through the palace corridors, cradling her in my arms. Her body felt alarmingly limp, her distress palpable. "Hold on, Tara," I urged. "We're almost there."

Inside the chambers, panic ensued as servants and midwives scrambled to prepare for her labour. The RajaVaidya, a man of great skill and experience, was summoned immediately. I paced outside the room, my anxiety mounting with every anguished cry that reached me.

Minutes later, the RajaVaidya emerged from the room, his face grave. He approached me, his voice low and urgent. "Your Majesty, Tara's condition is critical. The symptoms are consistent with Rudrajaala. There is a blue chain of the poison developing on Maharani's neck."

My heart sank. Rudrajaala was a well-known poison. It was known to kill a person by suffocation. The poison would entrap the organs of a person one by one. I asked the RajaVaidya, "Rudrajaala? What does this mean for Tara and the child?"

The RajaVaidya's expression was troubled. "The poison disrupts the body's natural processes. It starts with choking a person, not allowing sufficient oxygen to reach the organs. We must act quickly to induce labour and try to stabilize her. The poison's effects are severe and could endanger both mother and child."

I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Rudrajaala could hardly be countered. "Is there anything we can do to counteract it?"

"We are preparing antidotes and administering remedies," he replied. "But we must proceed with caution. The labour will be extremely difficult due to the poison's interference."

With a heavy heart, I nodded. "Please do everything you can. I'll be waiting here."

The RajaVaidya returned to the room, and I was left outside, my mind racing with fear and helplessness. The muffled sounds from within were haunting. Tara's cries of pain, interspersed with the midwives' urgent commands and the RajaVaidya's chants, created a symphony of dread.

Rajmata Pratibha, my mother, arrived, her usual composure replaced by a deep, visible concern. Tradition allowed her presence in the room. She took my trembling hand in hers. "Anshuman, I will go inside. Stay strong."

I watched as she entered the room, leaving me alone with my fears. The sounds of Tara's suffering intensified. Her cries, mixed with the midwives' efforts and the RajaVaidya's instructions, pierced through the heavy door. Tara's cries of pain grew more desperate as the process continued.

Finally, Ranimaa emerged, her face etched with profound sadness. She approached me, her eyes brimming with tears. "Anshuman," she said softly, her voice trembling. "The labour was incredibly difficult. Tara managed to give birth, but the child... did not survive. The poison was too severe."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed by grief. "No... no, this can't be."

Rajmata Pratibha knelt beside me, her own eyes glistening with tears. "Anshuman, we must be strong for Tara. She needs us now more than ever."

I managed to stand, my heart heavy with sorrow. Entering the room where Tara lay, I saw her face was pale but peaceful. The RajaVaidya and midwives were working to stabilize her, administering various remedies and herbs to counteract the effects of Rudrajaala.

Tara's eyes fluttered open briefly, and she reached out for me with a trembling hand. "Ansh," she whispered, her voice weak but filled with love. "I'm so sorry. I could not save our Akshaj. I'm not worthy of being a mother."

Akshaj. The name we were going to give to our son.

"No," I choked out, taking her hand gently. "You don't need to apologize. We're going to get through this. I'm here with you."

Her eyes grew heavy, and as I held her hand, I saw her body growing weaker. "Anshuman... I feel so... tired..." she murmured, her voice trailing off.

"Stay with me, Tara," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "Please, stay with me."

Her eyes closed, and she slipped into unconsciousness. The room was filled with the sounds of frantic activity as the RajaVaidya and midwives continued their efforts. The smell of herbs and the soft chants of prayers were a stark contrast to the heavy silence of Tara's stillness.

Suddenly, the door to the chamber creaked open, and the Rajguru, a revered figure in our court known for his wisdom and spiritual guidance, entered. His presence was both imposing and reassuring, but today, his face was clouded with concern.

"Your Majesty," the Rajguru said with a deep, respectful bow. His voice was solemn as he approached me. "I must speak with you about a matter of great urgency."

I looked up, my eyes red from tears. "What is it, Rajguru?"

"The time has come for you to make a decision regarding the final rites for the child," he said gently but with an undertone of urgency. "The rituals must be performed according to our traditions to ensure the child's soul finds peace."

My chest tightened at the thought of our child. "But Tara... she's still unconscious. We're doing everything we can to save her."

The Rajguru's expression softened with compassion. "I understand your pain, Anshuman. However, the rituals cannot be delayed. The child's soul cannot rest until the rites are performed. This is a sacred duty that must be fulfilled."

I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me. "I can't bear the thought of saying goodbye to our child. Not like this."

"Performing the rites is not about saying goodbye," the Rajguru explained. "It is a necessary step to honour the child's spirit and to bring closure to this chapter of your lives. It is part of the healing process for both you and the kingdom."

The gravity of his words sank in. I knew he spoke the truth. Our traditions held great importance, and the rites were essential for peace and closure.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Very well, Rajguru. Please make the arrangements."

As the Rajguru left to make the necessary preparations, I felt a profound sense of duty and sorrow. I took one last look at Tara, her face still and pale, and walked away to oversee the final rites for our child. 

The courtyard was shrouded in mourning, the air heavy with the scent of burning wood and incense. The final rites for our lost child were underway, and the sight of the pyre, now consumed by flames, was a brutal reminder of what we had lost.

The Rajguru's chants blended with the crackling of the fire, creating a mournful symphony that only deepened my sense of despair. I stood in stunned silence, the weight of my grief pressing down on me like an insurmountable burden. The rituals meant to honour our child seemed inadequate in the face of such profound loss.

Rajmata Pratibha, my mother, stood beside me, her usual grace overshadowed by visible anguish. Her hand, though trembling, rested on my shoulder—a small comfort amidst the chaos. Her eyes, filled with tears, were a reflection of my own heartache.

The Rajguru approached, his expression grave. "Your Majesty," he said softly, "these rites are crucial for the child's spirit to find peace. It is a tradition that helps us cope with our grief and begin the healing process."

I turned to him, my voice raw and broken. "Do you think these rites will actually ease the pain? Do you think they can bring our child back?" I looked back at the pyre, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "Our child was supposed to be the future, my heir... Now, all that remains is this fire and smoke."

The Rajguru's face softened with sympathy, but his words did little to assuage my sorrow. "The rites are not about bringing the child back. They are about honouring what was lost and finding a way to move forward."

The flames roared and danced, their heat a cruel reminder of the life that should have been. My hands clenched into fists as I tried to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. The ceremonies felt like an empty ritual, a stark contrast to the depth of my grief.

I turned to Ranimaa, my voice breaking. "How do we move forward from this? How do I look at the future knowing that our child will never be a part of it? That we've lost not just a life but all the dreams we had for it?"

She looked at me with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "Anshuman, I know this is unbearable. We've lost more than just a child; we've lost a piece of our future. But we must honour their memory and try to find a way to live through this grief. "

Her words, though meant to comfort, only deepened the ache in my chest. The pyre burned on, a symbol of our shattered hopes. I watched as the flames consumed the offerings, feeling the intensity of my sorrow with each flicker and crackle.

In the midst of the ceremony, I approached the pyre, my heart heavy with despair. I whispered into the smoke, "I am so sorry. I am so sorry that we couldn't protect you, that we couldn't give you the life you deserved. I will remember you always, and I will honour your memory as long as I live."

The final rites concluded, but the pain did not diminish. I returned to the birthing chamber, where Tara lay unconscious. Seeing her frail and still was a stark contrast to the vibrant woman she had been. I took her hand, my voice filled with sorrow. "Tara, we've lost our child, and I don't know how to move on from this. I need you to come back to me. I need you to be strong for us both. Without you, I'm lost."

FLASHBACK ENDS