Page 169 of A King's Oath

Jai Dwarkadhish.

He nodded at the guards and they let out their war cry. He began to march, Sharan beside him. And as he crossed the alleys, their palace guards began to fall in step behind them — protocol multiplying the beats of their footsteps until the thundering inside him quieted and only the chants coming from the Durbar Hall remained.

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Samarth folded his hands to Purohitji as the final rites were concluded. The fire of the havan was dimming as he stood to his feet with Sharan.

“Keep the court here, Kaka,” he instructed Ajatshatru Kaka. “I will be back.”

He patted Sharan’s shoulder, got to his feet and walked out of the court. Palace guards fell in step behind him.

“Wait here,” he commanded. They stopped in their tracks and fell back. Samarth kept marching, taking that familiar route to his father’s… Rawal’s office. He reached the door and grabbed the handle. His feet stalled for a second. This was it. Final.Samarth took a deep breath and depressed the handle. He did not wait to inhale the familiar scent of his Papa still lingering in this room. Even after weeks of working here in his absence, it refused to go.

He shut the door and locked it. Then walked around the table. He opened his Papa’s secret drawer, the one that was hidden in plain sight. The keys of the palace’s treasury, armoury and temple. The symbolic device of power. He set them on the table and kneeled down under it to pull open the safe built in there. He slotted the safe key, pressed his thumb into the digital reader and typed in his Papa’s password until it beeped opened. He pulled the safe and fisted the seal of Nawanagar — their Raj Sinh Mohar. The heavy golden seal fit into his fist — the literal object of power. He changed the safe password and erased all previous fingerprints as per Papa’s orders. Then locked it all shut. He tugged the top drawer open and pulled the papers he had gotten the lawyers to prepare, for Sharan’s official accession to the throne of Nawanagar and by extension as the steward of all properties and businesses owned by the throne.

Grabbing the papers, keys and Raj Sinh Mohar, Samarth marched out of the office. Harsh was waiting for him.

Sharan is gone.

“Where?”

He ran away from court.

Samarth changed tracks and marched towards Maarani’s chambers. He reached the doors and could hear loud noises from inside. He nodded at the guard.

“Kunwar Samarth padharya chhe!” He announced.

More noises, loud voices.

“Aava do,” Maarani’s echo came.

Samarth pushed the door open and strode in to find Maarani, her mother, Giriraj Hukum and Hira gathered in the sitting area.

“Maarani. I need Sharan.”

“Why?” Her mother demanded. She looked haggard.

“I need to take him to court. We need to secure the throne now that Terma nu Havan is over. I should have done this that first day, but the confirmation hadn’t come…”

“What kind of son are you?” She accused. “You are not even grieving fully? Just thinking about throne and kingdom?!”

Samarth took a deep breath, letting that pass.

“These were Rawal’s orders. I have to take Sharan to court and declare him Rawal. Maarani, where is he?”

“I am not going!” Sharan cried from her bedchamber. Samarth turned in that direction and strode in. He was lying face-down on his mother’s bed, body shaking.

“Sharan, get up,” he asserted.

“No!”

“Sharan, we have to go, come on, just ten minutes, come…” Samarth reached for his arm.

He shirked it off — “No! No! No!”

“Sharan you better get up now.”

“No!”

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