Chapter 4: chapter 4

The river’s current tugged at Sanmayi’s ankles as she stooped to fill her clay pot, the coolness of the water soothing her parched hands. The village had been quiet in the days following her arrival, and the hum of daily life had settled into a dull rhythm. She had almost forgotten the weight of the world beyond the forest, the turmoil that had once been her life. The soldiers of Amaravati, the city of gold and blood—those thoughts had retreated to the back of her mind like forgotten nightmares.But now, as the breeze shifted and carried a scent of metal and dust, her stomach twisted with unease. The sound of hooves grew nearer, and instinct, sharpened by fear, drove her to rise and look toward the bank.A group of soldiers appeared on horseback, their armor glinting in the afternoon sun, their expressions hard as the iron they wore. At the head of the group rode a man whose presence was undeniable, even from a distance. His posture was unyielding, his eyes scanning the riverbank with a quiet intensity.Ranajay.Sanmayi’s heart thudded in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. Her first instinct was to run, to flee back to the village, back to the safety of shadows and thatched roofs. But the soldiers had already seen her. Their eyes turned toward her like wolves scenting prey, and her feet felt frozen to the earth.She had not been prepared for this moment—not for the man who had destroyed her life, who had burned her city and her family to ash. Her hatred surged within her like a storm, but even as it rose, something else stirred in her, a flicker of something she could not name.The soldiers halted, their horses kicking up dust as they reined them in."Water, is it?" one of the men called out, his voice rough and coarse.Sanmayi stood tall, trying to mask the trembling in her legs. "Aye," she replied, her voice steady despite the fire that blazed in her chest. "The river belongs to all.""Does it?" the soldier sneered. "Not for long, I suppose. Your people won’t even be able to drink from it once my lord’s work is done." He chuckled darkly, as if the thought of that suffering amused him.She did not reply. There was no use in speaking to such men, whose cruelty was as evident as the sun in the sky.But then Ranajay spoke, his voice cutting through the murmur of his men like a blade through cloth. "Let her be."Sanmayi’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up, and there he was, his gaze fixed upon her with a strange intensity. His eyes—sharp, unyielding—held a quiet command. For a moment, she felt the world narrow, the river beside her fading into insignificance.The soldiers grumbled but obeyed, one of them muttering, "The princess, then. She looks like the rest of them."Ranajay ignored them, his gaze never leaving Sanmayi. "You’re not from these parts," he said, his voice low, almost questioning.Sanmayi stiffened. "What makes you say that?"He did not respond immediately, as though the answer was already known to him. His eyes flickered over her, from the simple clothes she wore to the wary tension in her posture. There was something about her that unsettled him, something he could not quite place."I have learned to recognize those who do not belong," he said slowly, his tone almost regretful. "You are not one of these peasants."Her blood boiled at his words, but she swallowed her rage. "And you are no prince," she retorted, her voice laced with venom. "You are a tyrant."His gaze sharpened, but there was no anger in it—only a strange, unreadable expression. He regarded her for a long moment, as though searching for something in her eyes. She could feel his scrutiny, like fingers probing into her soul, looking for the weakness, the crack that would betray her."I do not expect you to like me," he said finally. "But I do not intend to harm you."The words sent a ripple through Sanmayi, and for a moment, she faltered. She wanted to reject them, to lash out at the man who had brought so much pain to her life, to scream that he had no right to speak so calmly, so generously, after what he had done.But she was no fool. She could see the tension in his eyes, the weariness in his posture. This was not the cruel conqueror she had imagined. There was something else—something deeply human—that lingered behind the façade of the prince.The soldiers were growing impatient, their glances shifting from her to their prince, but Ranajay held up his hand. "Leave her be," he repeated, his tone firm.There was a weight in the silence that followed, the air thick with something unspoken. The soldiers exchanged glances but, ultimately, obeyed. They turned their horses and began to ride away, their grumbling growing fainter with each passing moment.Sanmayi stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She could not understand what had just happened. Why had he spared her? Why had he spoken to her with such... restraint?She caught his eye one last time before he turned his horse to follow his men, and in that fleeting moment, a strange, inexplicable pull tugged at her.Her heart faltered. No. She could not—she would not—allow herself to feel this way. Hatred was all that was left to her. It was all that had kept her standing when everything else had crumbled beneath her.And yet, in that brief exchange, something had shifted. A flicker of doubt, a whisper of something deeper, hung in the air between them.Ranajay glanced back at her one final time, his eyes narrowing just slightly, as if to say something unspoken. Then, without another word, he spurred his horse forward and disappeared into the distance, leaving Sanmayi alone by the riverbank, shaken and confused.For a long time, she stood there, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She could not understand what had just transpired—why he had spared her, why his presence had unsettled her so.But one thing was clear: the war between them was far from over, and the connection that had sparked between them, however brief, would not be easily extinguished.Her hatred, her grief, her confusion—they would all collide again soon enough. But for now, she could only stand by the river and wonder what fate had truly set in motion that day.