That night, Na’arvi kept the large windows of her bedchamber open, to let the cool breeze in. She sat at her vanity table, inspecting herself in the looking glass. The dusk of her skin shined like polished bronze. But her big doe eyes were fixed at her midnight black hair, which looked all kinds of wrong. Her hair bun was askew. She lowered her gaze and her waist seemed to have increased in girth despite having no food. The worst of all, her heart was brutally pounding in her chest, and she could do nothing to temper it. The soft rattle on the door made her jump.

“Yes.” She called out in a small voice.

The Prince stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Other days, they would share a nervous hug at this moment, but tonight, Na’arvi’s feet were glued to the ground beneath her. The prince was carrying the promised bouquet of wonderful exotic flowers. His eyes roamed the chamber, searching for something. That stirred Na’arvi into motion, and she brought the closest vase to the Prince.

“They are beautiful.” Na’arvi remarked, receiving the bouquet from the Prince, completely ignoring the light brush of his fingers.

“No more than you, Princess.” The Prince said lazily, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Na'arvi smiled coyly at the playfulness of her husband and changed the subject.

“I happened to pass by the library, my Prince.” She informed the Prince, as the two sat on the bed.

“Yes? That is wonderful. The masters at the library do get bothered, though, if they see a lady walking through the halls. If they act rude, come to me.”

“Not to worry, my Prince. They showed utmost respect, even helped me with my search.”

“Really? And what was it that you were looking for, Princess?”

“Books on flowers.”

The prince spread himself on the bed, laying back on his elbows, still watching Na’arvi.

“I found a treatise on exotic aquatic flora of the North. It was hidden in the oldest archives, in the rearmost section. But it has what I was looking for.”

“A flower searching for a flower.” The prince made a flirtatious remark, but his eyes showed honest curiosity.

Na’arvi turned and quickly grabbed the lamp and the old book, flimsy pages sewn together through the weak binding, and opened the section marked by the stem of the black beauty rose.

“Here.” Na’arvi pointed to the elaborate picture of a flower on the page. Indra moved closer, to inspect the drawing. “I was searching for Holy Asayan Lotus. This is an illustration of the flower. Here, its petal tips are a shade deeper, same as those we have in the crescent pond. But if you examine the image closely, the darker tint spreads to the entire edge of the lotus, apart from the tips. I do not believe the ones we have is Holy Asayan.” She proudly declared.

The Prince studied her face for a second. Shadow of his own sharp features dappled half of his face, his moist lips shimmering in the light of the lamp. “You are so wise, my Princess.” He stated, with a playful grin.

In the next few seconds, there was a rustle and a gasp, followed by a series of wet sounds as a pair of soft lips crushed onto another. Na’arvi forgot to breath as she felt the urgent pull of the Prince’s lips on hers. She wanted to pull back but her face was tightly secured in place by Indra’s palms. As the kiss found its rhythm, Na’arvi felt the anxiety in her heart dissipating, making way for a warm eagerness. Slowly, his powerful arms gathered her in an embrace, her body sensing the loving way he held her.

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Na’arvi woke up with a startle. It was still dark and quiet outside. The cool night breeze drifted in through the open window. She fumbled around the bed, but the other side was unoccupied. She sat up slowly and scanned the chamber as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Her bedside table caught her gaze. The dark rose that she had placed there before going to bed was missing. She gently put her feet on the floor. Her legs were still aching from the fervent lovemaking from a few hours ago.

As she stood up, she felt an intense urge to look for the missing rose. Maybe it was a playful game of hide and seek. Or maybe she just missed the captivating scent of the flower. She walked towards the door, still uncertain. But as she stood there, she could inhale the fragrance of the flower, as if beckoning her, almost challenging her to find it. Determined, she put on her robes and stepped outside her chamber.

Na’arvi padded across the passageway and came upon the main entrance to her chambers. Both guards were slumbering. She passed them to enter the main hall. The hall that hummed and bustled during the day was eerily silent now. She strode across the hall, noiselessly, following the scent of the rose. She entered another passage on the other side of the hall, which narrowed to a dark tunnel towards the end. She treaded carefully as she moved along, fragrance of the rose mixed in with the must of the damp tunnel air.

At last, Na’arvi reached the end of the tunnel. It led to a door to the right side. There were soft sounds coming from the room beyond, as if someone was speaking in a small thin voice. Curious, Na’arvi listened in with her ear against the door. The pitch of the voices frequently changed but they were still soft. She spotted distinct voices and as she listened in, she was able to discern some words.

“Northern Guild…….side……” – Female voice

“….to assume, Prince Indra has....” – Male voice

“……..meet…..support whoever has the power to sit on the throne….” – Female voice

“And for that we need the South’s allegiance……” – Male voice

“…rebels in the deccan…..Surely, they will ….resentment in his own…….Shakti’s time is limited, High Minister….cannot deny…” – Female voice

Na’arvi jerked away from the door. She felt she had eavesdropped on words that were not meant for her ears. She wished she was in her warm and cozy bed-chamber instead of this cold dark passage. She swiftly turned and hurried towards the exit, her breath tight in her chest. Just as she rounded the corner, she came face to face with Prince Indra.

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