Page 306 of A King's Oath

Vishwajeet looked at her with panicked eyes. “I assure you, I summarised the petition, Rajmata…”

“I do not believe your summary was apt. I plead to present my case.”

“I read the folder,” Samarth interrupted. “I agree with Prime Minister…”

“Rawal,” Siddharth’s voice boomed from her left. “It is not this court’s practise to hand out a verdict without hearing the petitioner to their satisfaction.”

Samarth looked at her, she looked at him. It was a battle of wills. And he knew he was losing. He nodded — “Please proceed, Rajmata.”

Tara tipped her chin high — “I married into this illustrious dynasty of Solanki on the base of an oath and a promise.”

Samarth startled. This was never said out loud in public, forget the court of his ancestors. Rumours, whispers, assumptions —yes. But never words on the lips of those who were directly involved in it.

“Stop scribing,” he ordered. The court scribe’s typing hands stilled on his laptop.

“I would like this to go on record,” she declared. Her eyes fell on the scribe — Naren bhai, a loyal courtier of Siddharth’s. He looked torn.

“Isn’t it a petitioner’s right to make their case on record, Rawal?” Tara asked.

A beat. Samarth nodded. He looked like he was in control of his decisions, but she knew better. At this point, he could break into a run or climb atop his horse and blast off. That was how on edge he was.

“The oath you took in my house, in front of my parents and me was witnessed by your bodyguard, Harsh.”

The scribe’s typing ticks resumed.

“You took an oath, swearing to water, that you will ensure that my heirs would rule Nawanagar one day, so that my parents could be assured of my security in this kingdom. You further promised that you would remain unattached so that no threat ever rose to my heirs. I call upon Harsh to confirm if what I say is true, Rawal.”

All eyes of the court turned to Harsh, who stood unmoved behind his Rawal’s throne. Samarth did not need to glance back because Harsh nodded. This was the truth.

“Yes, Rajmata.”

“Ten years later, when we all believed Bade Rawal to have passed in Antarctica, and Nawanagar needed its next ruler, you called upon your oath and chose Sharan as the next Rawal. I set youfree from your oath, drank that water, and commanded you to take the throne because you deserved this throne and this throne deserved you. There were no witnesses in that room save you and me, Rawal. I call upon you to confirm if what I said is true.”

Samarth did not even bat an eyelid. “It’s true.”

“You took the throne of Nawanagar as its steward and not as its king. You did not reveal this to anybody but me last evening. Is that true, Rawal?”

The court scribe’s typing fingers stopped. Silence fell in the court.

“True.”

“Does that mean then, that as Rajmata of Nawanagar, I have the obligation to choose my heir?”

“Yes.”

“My eldest son is taking care of my dynasty’s throne as a steward. I hence choose his daughter as the heir to Nawanagar’s throne.”

Samarth’s eyes widened. The court erupted in murmurs. She glanced at Siddharth in her periphery, sitting back with pride in his eyes. She had taken him into confidence earlier this morning but he had looked unconvinced. He had still helped her draft her petition and handed her the folder with a squeeze of her shoulder. Right now he looked like he would squeeze her whole and never let go.

“Rawal,” Vishwajeet cued.

“The Women's Inheritance Bill has been quashed by Bade Rawal in his time,” Samarth countered. “Nawanagar ’s succession is primogeniture.”

“That bill was originally titled ‘Royal Family Inheritance Bill’ and not ‘Women’s Inheritance Bill.’ It changed the definition of primogeniture in Gujarat Royal Families from first son to first child. Moreover, what has been overturned for all of Gujarat can still be instated in Nawanagar.”

Samarth’s mouth was tight. His court was quiet. Tara took that as her opening.

“Nawanagar is the legacy of Maarani Maithili Sinh Solanki who bore the storm of her husband’s paralysis at a tender age and guided her young son and a turbulent Nawanagar with sharp economic acumen and quiet strength,” she glanced at Siddharth. “Nawanagar was protected from the evil eye of the British by Rajmata Anusuya Devi Solanki when her Rawal martyred fighting for the peace of his borders. Nawanagar has seen the sun rise brighter and lakes dug deeper during the reign of Rawal Chattar Raj Sinh Solanki who sat his Maarani beside him on this very throne and made her his Prime Minister,” Tara’s voice rose, the words coming from deep inside her stomach. “And I haven’t even gone beyond the 19th Century.”

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