Extremely unedited. Please forgive typos. will edit later.

Chapter eighteen

She who wears the Crown

Eyes seeing the present lying before them could never give a justifiable description of how the time stands still in the mountain - edged valley of Kaaladwara. The birthplace of Nagas enjoyed the serine waves of spring breeze, slightly dump with morning dew and each leaf with their pointed ends dripping the last few drops of the rain from the previous night turned to the sparkling sun. As always the shamashikara citadel overlooked the city laying below, spreading the ivory and gold buildings to miles around the the grayish walls of the citadel.

It was true that there was no dictating king for Nagas but that did not mean the system appreciated equity and equal opportunities.

The Nagas called themselves the wisest of the elves. They learned different forms of knowledge available throughout their centuries of lifetime.

There were casts, that separated one fraction of scholars from another; that decided what kind of knowledge was implanted in their minds. The lowest were the karmakas who learned the arts of making things; crafters,  smiths, potters and all the other forms of workers who passed on their knowledge of creating a certain type of material came under that fraction. They were not allowed much of a say in the matters relating politics, of peace and war.

Then there were the nandakas the entertainers. They passed on the learning of art forms, music, dancing, painting and various other forms of soothing entertainment to their younger generation and practised themselves.

The Jeevakas were healers with the highest knowledge of both elixirs and poisons.  They healed people, gave life to the entire population. The Gyaanakas learned and experimented on astronomy,  mathematics and alchemy. They were the scientists of Kaaladwara.  The mokshakas were the philosophers who thought, explained and debated on things beyond normal people's capacity. It was from them the council that ruled the land was chosen and it was their ideologies that ruled the nation. The Jeevakas, Gyaanakas and mokshakas were the nobles of Kaaladwara and they were enlisted to the most luxurious life within the city.

She was born to a mokshaka mother, a lady of the most noble blood. But that was not the first day she wondered whether being high born was a blessing or a curse. At least being wingless would have been less depressing than being born with clipped wings. Aruna sighed, her eyes swirling from hazel to a mist of faint lake green. The surrounding still held to  the faint strings of a fading night while stubborn streams of icy sunlight peeped through the forest canopy.  A sleepy whistle of a bird, a fleeting whisper of the wind against boughs and noises of their horses reached her ears.

"There's still time, my lady," a voice brought her back to the reality.

Shaking herself free of meddlesome thoughts, Aruna turned her glassy gaze on her companion for the three days journey laying before them.

The girl was three years younger; already forsaken by her family of Jeevakas. She had no choice but the life of priesthood laying before her. The situation was different for Aruna as she had been correctly pointed out. As they walked side by side to the river bank to complete their morning prayers Aruna reflected upon the completely opposite path her life could have taken. If it was not for her own decision she would be on a different group of wagons moving not towards the temple of spirits but towards the capital of Vajras. She could have been dressed in the bridal colors of Vajras unlike the whites and pale golds of priestess robes and she could have been the Vajra's bride Instead of a priestess had she chosen so.

The water was ice cold on her palms, stinging as she poured it back to the stream mumbling her prayers in whisper hushed by the giggling waters. Aruna's mind was decidedly elsewhere, in a dark circular room lit with torches. She remembered the cold olive eyed man and the steel edge of the blade he pressed against her throat. In his face there were no signs of anger, only his features were arranged into a mask of deadly calmness; his eyes determinedly empty of any emotion.

"Opinions don't increase a lady's grace, don't you think Lady Aruna?" He said in a voice that made her shiver. "At least that is what we Vajras believe."

A drop of thick crimson blood dripped to the floor between them. It was not her blood, but of the man he had struck down a moment before. Aruna wondered if she had not witnessed the so called sword practice of the Crown prince of Vajras would she feel so disgusted at the mere thought of him.

He was a monster who had an

unquenchable blood lust. She was better off anywhere without him, even if it was a life of celibacy.

"I have made up my mind sister," She said in the end, her tone empty yet sharp. Although the question had been placed before her a long back, she knew the girl understood her reply. "To let the fate decide my path from hereon. I just want to live in peace...If possible on a land untainted with unnecessary bloodbaths."

"Do you despise the Vajras my lady?"

Aruna sighed, pondering over her answer. Hatred was unheard of for mokshakas who carried kindness in their bloodstream.

"I'm yet to see a Vajra who deserve something more."

She settled to say in the end.

But the girl was listening to her no more.  Instead her eyes had widened and breath hitched as she stared at something beyond Aruna's shoulder.  

"What?" Aruna inquired as she turned to catch the sight of a slightly rustling bush.  "Who's there?" She raised her tone a scale higher as she approached the bushes dump of morning dew.

A girl of no more than twelve crouched behind the dark green mess of leaves and nettles. Her eyes were too large for her bony face and a striking dark color.

There were tattoos inked into the sides of her neck, reaching up in patterns of dark ivy to curl around her ears. A mop of extremely dirty hair, patched and torn rags of clothing and the layers of dirt hiding her true skin tone added to the image of a rug muffin.

Aruna drew in a breath watching the girl fearfully shift under her gaze.

"We're nuns from Kaaladwara you need not fear us," the jivaka girl supplied standing half shaded from Aruna's much taller figure.

She stood still and watched the girl, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Who are you running from?"Aruna asked in the end. "Who are you?"

*

"Your brother has truly lost his marbles..." Arya shook her elegantly fixed head. The pearls entwined in to the complicated hairdo caught sunlight as she did so. "What has the Bhavas done to him that compelled him to hunt each of them down?"

"Your father wouldn't appreciate your tone princess," a voice added as another rider joined the two already mounting horses. "It is a crown prince of another race you're referring to."

"And who would be informing him of my slips of tongue Mohan?" Arya shot back, her eyes gleaming dangerously. "Is this where I find out who had been spying on me for so long?"

"No, this is where we realise we have lost the trail and decide to return to the castle." Mohan replied without missing a beat.

"Give it a rest you two," sighed Ram the second prince of Vajras. It was exasperating when the two best friends of his decided to be wolves leaping at each other's throats.

Their friendship had decades of history. Almost initiating as soon as the two royals; one Anjani and the other Vajra stumbled upon each other on these same woods. The princess had been secretly learning sword fencing from the youngest warrior of their ranks and the only daring enough to offend their king by teaching the highest ranked lady of their nation; Mohan.

It was initially a simple promise to keep their secret. Ram secretly admired the strength of the seemingly tiny girl, and the loyalty of the dark skinned youth even before he was admitted to the tight woven inner circle of their friendship.

He shook his head watching the two exchange a cold glance. Something might have happened at Padmapeeta of which he was unaware.

"It's Pratula and his troop of monkeys," Arya said in the end correctly guessing where Ram's thoughts were heading. "He's been sending spies after me."

"What for?"  The information took Ram in a wave of astonishment. It was peculiar as both he and Arya were not considered political figures in the shadows of their older brothers. They were raised with that knowledge, telling the same thing over and over again until it seeped into their minds like some sort of a permanent dye. They were supposed to help their brothers rule, prosper and protect the kingdom under the Crown prince's name. Nothing would change now, when both those influential siblings were on the last notch of attaining the thrones they were born for.

Mohan gave him a dark look, something that warned of his words even before he uttered them.

"The king doesn't appreciate some ideas of his son, he is not exactly pleased with the Crown prince and his lackeys at the moment. "And the fact that the potential high general of Pratula's rule was beaten by the princess in a fencing match doesn't exactly help the matters either."

"Don't tell me ," Ram raised his eyebrows at Arya who scowled at Mohan. "What possessed you to do that?" He demanded then.

"There was a certain dimwit friend of mine who was intentionally losing."

"The king..." Mohan begun only to be interrupted by Arya.

"Wouldn't quite enjoy you headless corpse would he?"

Ram bit back a smile watching Mohan flinch at the scalding look Arya gave him.

"But I'm rethinking of the same..." She added after a moment.

"Shh," Ram interrupted them again.

"He deserves to be..." Arya stopped catching his focused look.

"What?"

But Ram was already speeding away, his hand pulling an arrow from the quiver hanging from his shoulder in a sleek moment as he pointed the bow at the White clad woman blocking his path.

Aruna stood her ground between the dirty girl and the man chasing her. Her emerald eyes caught the silvery sun and shimmered of determination. They swept across the unknown features of the Vajra archer, noting his wavy black hair, the pleasant bluish gaze and the unmistakable royal crest of Vajras he was wearing.

"That is our prisoner," Ram spoke after a pause. "I advise you against blocking my path, lady."

"I wonder what kind of a law would condemn a child, my lord?" Her address was polite,  her tone similarly sharp. "And what kind of a pride would allow hunting children like cattle?"

Ram drew in a breath, the misty air filling his lungs.

"Her family has been accused of treason," he explained, on the same time wondering why he was explaining all this to a stranger. "It is the word of the court that she should be brought to the hearing."

"And what would happen in that hearing is certain already is it not? It is merely a ruse to pretend there is justice in your ways. What is the point of a hearing where both parties don't get to relate their side of the tale?"

"Step aside." Ram said calmly.

"This argument will result in nothing."

"Do you find it in your heart to follow your brother so blindly my lord? Or have you simply forsaken sense in the name of loyalty?"

"Step aside."

"I will...If you promise me Vajras will carry out a fair trial, a proper investigation."

There were sounds of galloping as Mohan and Arya joined them.  Mohan's eyes lit up in recognition as he noticed the woman who blocked their way.

"Sister Aruna," he bowed swiftly.  Arya raised an eyebrow. "She is a distant cousin of mine, a Mokshaka and a daughter of the council.

Ram's lip twitched in a faint grin as he heard the name.  Of cause, this rebellious lady was the one who rejected his brother. The name brought to his mind a series of events involving wine, broken glasses, injured servants and his drunk...very drunk brother. The lady had made quite an impression on him ever since.

"I will do what I can," he said in a diplomatic tone. "But it won't be much unless there is someone to represent her in the trail."

Arya opened her mouth only to catch Mohan's eye and fell silent. Ram watched Aruna with an amused expression. It was hardly unlikely for a Mokshaka to let the opportunity of a debate go by and let injustice prevail. For his benefit he simply wished to know her  a little better.

"That will be me," She said in the end. "I will represent her at the trail."

*

The Asanikshestra retreated to shadows and twilight. It was a familiar sight, the swamps, tall grass, faint impressions of stars on purplish sky.  But Megha knew a change was coming. The winds told him so, as they changed the direction for the night. The lone trees scattered around the perimeter whispered of power. He felt their loyalties shift, he felt their emotions flicker from friendly whispers towards him to hushed declarations of submission towards another.  Then he knew, there was someone who was not supposed to tread those lands. Among his people Megha was known for his hunter instinct. His senses ran deep, originating from the spirits of nature that surrounded them. They were sharp that he felt every shift on the land, the lightest change of wind and the faintest pulse of power.

Originally he would not have been patrolling those swamps had it not been for the woman he stumbled upon the previous night. Megha was not a man of profound emotions. His arsenal of feelings consisted of excitement, curiosity, pain, anger and hatred. One might call it animalistic but Megha would shrug and smirk. Complicated emotions never helped solving matters.

The Bhavas were practically exiled to these parts of elven lands. He was one of their fighters who protected the small community of nomads from the evils that lurked in the shadows.  Dealing with sudden appearances of women clad in expensive dark clothing and poisoned circulation was not a part of his job description.

Megha could still recall her pale face, framed by unnaturally dark and sleek hair, eyes that were deep set and crawling on the mud with blood trickling down her lips. His men were certain she was some kind of a demon, probably a blood thirsty one. Had he not intervened they would have shot her down.

For some strange reason the woman did not stir fear in him. Instead lit a spark of curiosity.  She could sense her power and easily place her as a royal. To cap that she had magic running through her veins. If this was a witch, and a powerful one at that, why was she letting a measly venom take down her body?

Hopping from his horse, he knelt beside her stretching out a cautious arm to touch her. She jerked and met his gaze, her eyes spooky and bloodshot behind a veil of sleek hair.

"Stay away!" She growled from the corner of her mouth a tone very much reminding him of the usual reproach other races had of his kind. Who was she daring to insult them in their own area?

She lulled into unconsciousness soon after not giving him the chance to interrogate her. But he should have known that her arrival was the first thunder of the storm that was now approaching them in the form of new visitors.  

It took him no time to spot the three people out of place in these barren lands. The shadow, was a man of large built, the way he loomed over the two others screamed of his origin and years of dedication. The man who owned his loyalty was obviously a blue blooded Vajra. His lips curled in disdain and the young woman was a stranger to his world. A human? No, there was a soft aura around her. A pull of some kind that suggested she was the center of change...The eye of the storm. Yes... That was exactly what she was.  The eye...!

Megha let his eyes lead his group. From a radius enough to operate unnoticed they surrounded the strangers. Waiting until their attention was completely elsewhere and observing them at the same time he let his ears pick parts of their conversation.

Megha watched the prince argue with the eye, he watched the emotions flicker in their expressions. He knew the prince was injured a long before he fall but then he would never have guessed the eye slipping into a vision a moment later. With two of them off the equation and one obviously too distracted it was a child's play to overpower the shadow.

His men closing around and blocking potential escapes Megha watched the eye returning to reality.

"Well well well..." He greeted her rapidly blinking gaze. "What do we have here...a prince a shadow and the eye?"

His men were starting to whisper.  Their looks displeased with his revelation. Bhavas did not welcome Vajras,  they loathed shadows and would consider the eye simply a mean to chaos. But quenching their thirst for revenge was not as easy as he thought it was. The shadow was obviously a high ranked one and fought with a pair of deadly double edged swords.  It took four of his men to keep him engaged enough to leave Megha free to approach the other two.

Then again the prince was very much conscious yet. His eyes were emerald and flashed in the darkness as he hoisted his body back to approach standing position. He was weak, Megha could feel the power leaving him and the loss of blood and the effect of poison on his focus.  But still as he took a step towards them the ground trembled.

"Stay where you are," when the prince spoke his tone was cold and calm. "We don't mean harm unless you unwisely provoked us."

Megha snorted.  

"And how exactly are you planning to harm us?" He asked then. "Let me remind you, your highness," he added in a mocking tone.  "Lands of Asanikshestra answers to no lord."

He watched the Vajra prince clenching his jaw. A distant thunder roared in the sky. He felt the shift of power around him again as the man's stony green gaze fixed upon his own cool gray one. Megha felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as a shiver of power ran down his spine.  He could feel the prince reaching him with a power much beyond his control. Then something shifted in his eyes.

"Let the lady leave..." He said after a moment. " She is neither neither a Vajra nor your enemy. Nagas have always been your allays...let her leave. "

"I'm not going..."

"Swara!" He silenced her with that one word and turned back to Megha.

"Convince me," Megha said with a crooked smile as he aimed a well placed fist exactly where he knew the prince was injured. A stream of blood, thick and dark burst from his mouth as he doubled over and stumbled to his knees.

"Please..." the girl rushed to stand between them. Strange, he watched her a little confused.  She was arguing with the man and moment before and nd now she was defending him ?. "He needs help."

Her eyes were strange, wide and golden, full of concentration and anguish. There was no fear or disgust unlike  many gazes that beheld his kind. She looked as if she genuinely believed he would help them.

"Why would we help a filthy Vajra?" Someone from the group cut in.

"Yeah," another conceded. " Where were they when when we were hunted like animals?"

"You don't understand," the girl spoke again.

"He is bleeding too much. He might...He might..." She swallowed her conclusion leaving the sentence incomplete and moved across the distance as if to check on him. Megha stretched out an arm and grabbed her elbow before she did that.

"He deserves it doesn't he?" One of the men spat, encouraged by Megha's move that stopped the girl. She struggled against him watching the man who spoke with  a scalding look that now held disgust.

"Don't say it." Megha muttered holding her in place.  "Whatever it it is on the tip of your tongue don't say it or he might lose his head right now. "

She stilled abruptly staring at him with those strange eyes.

"Kalindi would decide that now wouldn't she?" He asked the men casually. "Take the prisoners to her."

He turned on his heel with no more words spoken and dragged the girl with him towards their destination. She resisted his force, glaring at him with those fiery eyes. Megha let her go, carefully standing in front of her obstructing her view of the others.  

"What are you planning to do with us?" Her voice was wary, full of doubts.

"He'll be safe if he is who I think he is. Kalindi won't touch him."

He offered her his hand a smile tugging his lips as he watched the relief soften her features. She looked at the outstretched hand and traced her way back to his eyes. Her eyes returned to their guarded look.

"I know you're his woman," Megha said bluntly. " I'm not entertaining any ideas."

The girl flushed to a shade visible even in the star light.  

" I'm not his anything," She said firmly. Megha raised his eyebrows. "I mean it's good that you are not getting any ideas but I'm. ...I mean honestly..." She twirled her fingers and stared at them. "I'm just..."

Megha cleared his throat.  

"We should be walking," he pointed out quickly and the girl nodded falling to a trot behind him.

"My name is Swara," She said after a moment.  " And I prefer being called that instead of the eye."

"Do I really look like I care?" Megha asked with a shrug.  " You should reconsider who you end up trusting lady."

"I'm just tired of doing exactly that and being proved wrong every time." Swara told him in a small voice.

Megha did not say anything for a while and then kicked a stone on their way.

" Innocence helps sometimes," he stopped as Swara snorted.  "It stopped me from killing you then and there..." he explained watching her eyes widen.

" Why didn't you? "

"You were the first one who trusted me enough to ask for help...I couldn't refuse and prove the others right huh?"

She did not reply as she watched his self contented smirk.

Something told her that the rough exterior of the man was not what defined his personality and she wished to know the secrets he would guard in the shadows he roams so freely. It was not a foresight simply an instinct.

Perhaps she was learning the rules of the game she was thrusted into that she knew Megha would make a great allay.

*

The moon was reflected in the clear water. It did not ripple even as a soft breeze blew. Suvanna sat in the entertainment hall of her old chambers watching the pool in the center of it that simply opened up to the skies above.

Long ago as a child she admired the night sky. Now to the young woman she had grown up into the night only brought echos of dark memories.

She pulled her long sleeve exposing her arm.  Of cause the scars she had grown accustomed to was there no more.  With a perfectly manicured finger she traced one of those invisible lines, reliving the pain. The memory was still as agonizing as the real event. It was true that this body; Ragini's body did not experience that torture or bear those scars, but this soul of hers always carried their burden.

Before she moved further down that memory lane the double doors opened with a cracking sound.  

The maids who entered had familiar faces. Although it had been a decade since the last time she had seen them, they looked as youthful as they did in her memories. But something had weathered in the time gone by, aged and wasted away. Their eyes no longer held the adoration they had for her as a child but instead a flicker of fear, hesitation as if she was some kind of a angered beast they were forced to look after, reflected in their eyes.

That look reminded her of the last thing she had seen from her own eyes as Suvanna, in that body the noir witches had punished to the limits of resistance, weak and dying. That man, the nomad Bhava, she had seen the curiosity with which he approached her. It was a look of a scientist observing a new specimen of an unknown species. It made her feel like an animal, crawling under his gaze...powerless, ignorant and weak. There was nothing Suvanna hated more.

While she was lost in the reminiscences of the darkest days of her life the entertainers had filled into the hall. Suvanna was no longer a dweller of the Padmapeeta and had no hand in picking out the performances. Tonight the ladies of the palace had planned a sword dance in her honor. The long sapphire robed men waved their long blades in complicated motions to a drum that issued hauntingly deep resonating beats. They wore masks that hid most of their features. But Suvanna had eyes that were sharpened by the eternal darkness of the island of spirits.  Her eyes that noticed the small details worked on the masks, the knots if silver thread on their robes, were bound to notice the pair of dark eyes that remained fixed upon her over the gleam of blades colliding with each other.

The princess stood up gracefully, her skirts swishing as she pulled out a sword for herself. The ladies surrounding her whispered among each other watching her merge into the dancers.

Their swords brushed together as the princess and the dark eyed dancer circled each other. Her movements were far too elegant for someone who spent a decade practising dark arts. Her hands waved the blade sharp as a bolt of lightning, turning in her flocking skirts like a whirl of summer wind. The dark curls pooling doing her shoulders, cheeks flushed and eyes a clear shade of azure Suvanna made a breathtaking picture in the center of the performance.

The serenity that surrounded her vanished in the next second. As she placed the edge of her blade against the throat of her dancing partner. The ladies gasped, some rising from their seats, hands clasped over their mouths.

"Everyone have a pleasant evening, the event ends now," She said sweetly her dimples digging into her cheeks.  "leave NOW!"

It took the assembly a few lingered minutes to fill out of the hall. Suvanna still kept her blade at the throat of the dancer. With a smooth flick of her wrist she cut off the string of the mask and her lips curled in a frosty smile.  

"I see you're learning...I'm impressed my dear prince."

Lakshya returned her frosty greeting.

"We have a deal to discuss," he said curtly.

They looked at each other, still with gazes icy and guarded and together lowered their weapons. A new legend of betrayals etched itself on the fabric of time.

*