The palace came into sight, a mammoth structure of pink sandstone and marble, its turrets kissing the sky. It was fronted by vast lawns, vivid with flowering plants and leafy palm trees. A fountain with a marble statue of a mythical creature tinkled as cool water poured down its sides. The grand gateway had been decorated at the moment with garlands of flowers and leaves. Who in the palace was eager to welcome her, Priyadarshini mused, heartened by the sight of the festive adornments.
The procession entered the gateway, coming to a stop in front of the ornately carved brass-studded doors. Maids rushed to get her out of the palanquin, leading her through the doors and into a grand hall. As she stood there, waiting for the prince to join her, she took in her surroundings. Cool marble floors vied with the polished brass candelabras which stood all along the walls. Heads of long-dead deer and tigers adorned the walls as did shiny weaponry. The whole ambiance of the room was intimidating, forcing one to be on one's guard. Harshvardhan joined her, his forceful footsteps echoing due to the high vaulted ceiling of the hall. She cast a sideways glance at his grim face, displaying clear signs of irritation as the royal women welcomed them with tika or smudges of vermilion on the forehead and a shower of rice, all the while singing of being blessed with a hundred strong sons. Priyadarshini felt herself blush, wringing her hands, in discomfort.
"Get changed, Princess. My parents wish to meet you within the hour." The crisp command was enough to hasten her steps, as she followed behind a sullen-faced maid. She walked through tortuous passages, taking many turns and at last reaching an enormous bedchamber. The airy, bright room was dominated by a wide bed covered with a woven bedspread. On one side, a series of casements looked down on the grounds below. A dresser occupied one wall while her trunks lined another. The same sullen-faced maid waited impatiently, tapping her foot, while Priyadarshini took in her surroundings.
"Do you or do you not wish to change out of these clothes, my lady?" the maid inquired in an insolent tone. Though angry, Priyadarshini disregarded her impudence, choosing instead to answer patiently.
"First I would like to wash the grime off my body. Arrange for some water please," she directed, watching as the maid flounced off to draw some water from the well. Was all the staff here so impertinent, she wondered. Half an hour later, washed and dressed, she waited for the guards to lead her to the audience hall. A posse of guards knocked at her door, before entering, their swords drawn. Priyadarshini was taken aback at their belligerent stance. "What....what....do you....want?" she stammered, a fine tremble starting in her body.
"We are here to escort you, my lady, at the order of our prince," the one who appeared to be their leader, muttered through gritted teeth. "Shall we go?" he waved a hand towards the exit. She fell into steps beside him, all the while wondering at the need for so many armed guards inside the palace. They again took the labyrinth of passageways, until they came to another grand hall. The sentry announced her, and she noted the presence of King Yashvardhan, a burly, regal man, dressed in ceremonious clothes accompanied by a tall, elegant woman by his side, obviously the queen, Devnandini. Harshvardhan, their only son, stood by their side, a scowl marring his handsome face. It was clear that whatever they had been discussing, hadn't found favor with him.
"Welcome to Jaigarh, daughter-in-law," the clear, booming voice of the king greeted her as she paid her respects to him and the queen. The queen stepped forward to embrace her in a warm hug, reminding her of her home which she had left behind. The scowl on the Prince's face deepened, as Priyadarshini returned the embrace. "We hope that you would find happiness in your union with our son," the king continued, waving her to take a seat beside the Prince.
"This is a new chapter in the relationship between Jaigarh and Reshamgarh," the queen remarked. "The wedding will be held on the morrow, so, take good rest, dear." With that instruction, the queen gave a motherly smile.
"Father, mother, you forget that this union has been thrust upon us. Do you think otherwise I would have agreed to marry the enemy's daughter? Expecting happiness from such an alliance is foolishness," Harshvardhan spat contemptuously, glaring at the girl seated beside him. Priyadarshini had not expected him to show his hatred in such an obvious manner in front of his parents, who had tried to normalize the situation. Her heart quacked at his antagonistic attitude. How could she hope to find joy in such a marriage?
They took their leave of the king and the queen, once the arrangements of the impending wedding had been discussed. Priyadarshini watched the Prince walk away, without so much as a word to her. "My lord," she called after him. He stopped abruptly but did not turn. She hurried to reach him, facing him with as much courage as she could muster. "What need do I have of so many armed guards inside the palace? They make me uneasy...." she said what she had felt as soon as she had been surrounded by the posse.
He gave a taunting laugh. "They aren't here to protect you, my lady. On the contrary. They are here because I do not trust those belonging to Reshamgarh. Any mischief by you and they would have your head." With that he strode away, out of the palace, without a backward glance, leaving Priyadarshini seething in indignation.
Amid the chanting of the priests and the chatter of the guests, Priyadarshini gingerly placed her hand on the prince's, as both were asked to repeat the vows after the priest. His crisp, cold voice sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his hand tighten on hers painfully, as she tried to draw her hand away.
Previously, she had dressed in her finest dress, a red silk skirt, flowing into a train, and embellished with gold and semi-precious stones. The veil too was woven with fine threads of gold, and held in place by a tiara of glowing gems. Her father had gifted her the jewelry belonging to her mother, but she had been pleasantly surprised when queen Devnandini had herself appeared with an exquisite necklace of emeralds and beryls that had been bought from an Egyptian trader and then set in beaten gold. On stepping onto the wedding platform, she had felt her breath catch in her throat, to see Harshvardhan attired in his royal robes, as befitting a crown prince. To give the devil his due, she acknowledged, he was really the most devastatingly good-looking man she had seen. What wouldn't she give, though, to see that goodness reflected in his nature?
By the time the sumptuous feast arranged after the wedding, was over, Priyadarshini was wilting from exhaustion and the stress of being near the Prince who had been looking daggers at her every time they were asked to hold hands or to feed sweets to each other. Was it her fault that they were forced to wed? She was just a pawn in their politics of which she knew nothing.
"See how the bride is blushing! I bet she wants all of us to leave so that she can meet the Prince alone," Harshvardhan's cousins teased her, their playful banter making her head ache. The women had led her back to the bedchamber, which was awash with the sweet scent of flowers scattered on the vast bed. Earthen oil lamps lined the holders, making the room bright, while casting shadows in the corners. Nudged by the women, Priyadarshini sat on the bed, while they arranged her skirts in an enticing way, before leaving her to wait for the arrival of the Prince. With a thudding heart, she waited, dreading the night which loomed ahead of her like a thundercloud, ready to unleash its fury on her. What all would he expect from her, she quacked at the thought, her hands becoming cold and clammy, the more she cogitated on it.
Time passed, as the sentry called out hour after hour. Priyadarshini found her eyes closing as sleep overtook her. Still, there was no sign of the Prince. Around dawn, she finally got out of bed, feeling the weight of the adornments heavily on her body. "Lalita," she called for the maid, who came rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Lalita looked pityingly at her mistress. She had spent the whole night waiting for her husband, only to be shunned on the wedding night by him. What she had gathered from the other servants wasn't very encouraging. He had made her a laughing stock by avoiding her company on her first night.
"You wish to bathe at this hour, my lady?" Lalita asked incredulously.
"Why? Can I not? I wish to relax after the ordeal of the wedding," she retorted, already annoyed and feeling like a fool for waiting all night long for the blasted man. She really did not know whether to be relieved that he did join her the previous night or be hurt that her husband ignored her on her first night. Soon, other maids were summoned, who brought urns full of water from the well, sprinkling it lavishly with aromatic oil and rose petals. Rubbing herself with the scrubbing stone, she closed her eyes and let the cool water wash over her. The maids hovered nearby, whispering among themselves.
"I came to know that the Prince spent the night with his favorite courtesan instead of coming to his bride," one of the women spoke just loud enough so that her voice would carry to Priyadarshini. Another giggled, elbowing her companions.
"That would teach the ones from Reshamgarh not to give themselves airs. Our Prince rightly put her in her place." The unkind words cut into her heart as she wrapped herself in a sheet. She felt tears prick her eyes and wished she was back in her own home. Lalita, who had returned to catch the tail end of the gossip, shooed the women out of the bedchamber.
"Don't you pay any attention to them, my lady. They are too loose with their tongues."
"But they aren't lying, are they Lalita? It is no secret that I spent last night alone," she remarked, her voice wavering.
"The shame is not yours but his, that he could not honor his bride," Lalita assured her, in vain, as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I wish we were back in Reshamgarh, and this was only a bad dream." With a sigh, Priyadarshini sank down on a cushion, to let Lalita comb her tangled hair. "Don't let a word of it get to my father," she cautioned her trusted companion. He would not only be hurt but consider it a grave dishonor. She certainly did not want trouble brewing between the two kingdoms. "Who is that courtesan they were talking about?" she could not prevent asking in morbid interest.
"I do not know, my lady, and it is nothing for you to fret about. Courtesans come and go, as you well know," Lalita said, her manner matter of fact. Priyadarshini kept quiet, but a nagging doubt remained at the back of her mind. Why did he marry her if he had no wish to keep his marriage vows? What was expected of her now? These questions continued to plague her, as dawn gave way to the morning and the palace became a bustle of activity. She had just broken a piece of millet flatbread, dipping it in honey to savor the sweetness, when her attention was drawn to the commotion near the doors. Raising her head from her breakfast platter, she saw her nemesis standing in the doorway, his characteristic scowl marring his face.