Page 305 of A King's Oath

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Then?”

“No,” Samarth rose to his feet, her hand falling away. “It is decided. I am moving away with Brahmi and Ava. I’ll come back whenever you need me. Our home will be open for you all. We will spend more time together than we do now with all our livesso busy. You’ll see. And don’t worry about Sharan. He will prove to be a very good king for Nawanagar. I see it in him.”

For the first time in her life, Avantika related to Rajmata. The helplessness on her face was what Avantika had lived with for many years with Samarth’s sense of righteousness. But then, Rajmata asked him something that made the tiny hairs stand on the back of her neck.

“Are you my son?”

The air in the room stilled. Samarth glanced down at her sitting on his sofa.

“Yes.”

“And you are telling me that my eldest son will not be Nawanagar’s Rawal?”

“We are going around in circles now.”

“You’re right, we are,” she got to his feet. “We are. Go to sleep now. It’s late. You have court tomorrow morning and then gruh-shanti in the afternoon.”

Avantika stood there in an anticlimactic haze as Rajmata draped her pallu over her shoulder and walked out.

51. My Heir

— TARA —

Tara grasped the pallu of her kasumbi saree and wrapped it around her shoulder, stopping right outside the open main doors of the Court of Nawanagar. The last time she had walked to this court with a purpose was in a white saree, Samarth behind her, her head finally settled in peace. Today, Hira ben was behind her, a dossier in hand.

“Ghoshna karo,” Hira ben commanded the guards. They looked befuddled to see her on this main door that was used by the royal family only on ceremonial occasions. It was reserved for the people of Nawanagar when they came to their Rawal for justice. Tara nodded at the line of citizens leaving, their hands folding to her, their heads bowing. She had chosen a time when the last of them would be moving out.

“Rajmata durbar maa padhare chhe!” The guard’s booming, ear-splitting cry echoed across the alley, freezing the citizens walking out of the court. Tara took one step forward and crossed the threshold of the court. The small crowd of citizens parted for her, heads bowing, hands folding.

The ministers sitting on both sides of the hall began to rise to their feet, Samarth’s eyes rising from the iPad he was being handed over by his Prime Minister. Murmurs of citizens moving out trailed and the doors of the court closed behind them as per Hira ben’s orders.

Samarth’s eyes met hers and stuttered. He began to get to his feet when Tara stopped in the middle of the court. He stood, three steps above her, standing in front of the throne that had caused a lifetime of grief between them. And inside him.

“Rawal,” Tara nodded. “Are members of the royal family allowed to petition in your court?”

Samarth blinked. His eyes shifted to his right without moving his head. Tara knew who was sitting there. His father.

Siddharth must have given him a nod.

“Yes, Rajmata,” Samarth announced, his voice loud and clear. She detected the slight tremor in his last syllable that nobody else did.

“Then I bring my petition to you in hope for justice,” she nodded as Hira ben passed the padded dossier like the one he had made for his exit to his Prime Minister. The court fell into pin-drop silence. Vishwajeet opened the file as was protocol, reading through the petition before briefing Rawal. Tara stood there, unmoved, waiting.

Vishwajeet’s face remained as impassive as ever as he passed the file to Samarth. Unlike their usual practise, Samarth did not ask him to summarise it. Tara knew why.

He took the dossier silently and read. His eyes whirled up to his court and he opened his mouth — “This petition will be taken behind closed doors…”

“I ask for a public hearing,” Tara cut him off, prepared for that out. Samarth’s face hardened.

“Will the Prime Minister summarise it for the court or am I to present my case?”

“Prime Minister will summarise,” Samarth gave Vishwajeet a look. She knew that look well too —manage this.

Vishwajeet accepted the dossier back, stood on the step below the throne and began very carefully — “Rajmata has petitioned the Court of Nawanagar, asking if she has the right to choose the next heir of Nawanagar,” he spun the document. “In my humble opinion, Nawanagar’s succession laws for the throne are based on primogeniture, Rawal. The eldest son of Rawal becomes the next Rawal, unless he abdicates or commits a crime listed under Article 7 of our bylaws that is tried and proved in this court…”

“Prime Minister, I believe you skipped the first part of my petition.”

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