The room was heavy with silence as Sundar and Kaya remained lost in their swirling thoughts, each still feeling the ghost of Mrityunjaya’s touch. The memory of his lips, his commanding voice, and the intensity of his presence clung to them like an invisible chain. Their hearts pounded, confusion clouding their minds as they tried to make sense of the unfamiliar feelings stirring within them.
Suddenly, the sound of long, deliberate footsteps echoed through the chamber. Both girls flinched as the heavy doors creaked open. The Headmaid swept inside with her usual air of authority, her sharp gaze falling instantly on them. For a moment, she narrowed her eyes, confused by the way they stood frozen, their faces flushed with unspoken emotions. But it didn’t take her long to notice the faint traces of dried blood on their swollen lips.
A smirk tugged at her lips as she crossed her arms. "So," she drawled, her voice cold and cutting through the tense silence. "It seems the first step toward consummation has finally begun."
The words struck them like a physical blow. Sundar and Kaya’s heads snapped up, their faces paling with shock and embarrassment. Both immediately scrambled to their feet, standing rigidly as their hearts pounded with fear. The mere presence of the Headmaid was enough to make their stomachs twist in anxiety—they had always been afraid of her.
She took a slow, deliberate step closer, her sharp eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and authority. "Did you think I wouldn’t notice?" Her voice was laced with mockery as she reached out, her cold fingers brushing against Sundar’s bruised lip. "His mark is written all over you. You should feel honored."
Sundar swallowed hard, her knees trembling slightly. Kaya’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she fought the urge to flinch under the woman’s gaze.
"Fear won’t serve you here," the Headmaid snapped, her tone growing harsher. "If you wish to survive in Ranasa’s favor, you must learn. And I will make sure you do." She straightened, her cruel smile widening. "From this moment forward, your training as proper concubines begins. You may have caught his attention—but to hold it? That is an art you must master."
The air grew colder as her words sank in. Sundar’s breath hitched as the reality of their new position settled over her. Kaya felt her heart hammer against her ribs, dread pooling in her stomach. They knew there was no escaping this path—no denying the king’s claim.
"Your duty is no longer just to serve," the Headmaid continued, her voice smooth but filled with icy authority. "It is to please. To be the perfect companion for Ranasa—body, mind, and spirit." She stepped back slightly, surveying them like a predator observing prey. "And I will mold you into exactly what he desires."
Without another word, she turned sharply and gestured for them to follow. "Come," she ordered. "Your lessons begin now."
Sundar and Kaya exchanged a quick, fearful glance before falling into step behind her, their bodies tense with anticipation.
The Headmaid led them into a dimly lit chamber—one they had never entered before. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows along the walls. At the center stood a polished wooden table adorned with silk cloth, vials of scented oils, and an array of delicate fabrics.
She turned to face them, her expression unreadable. "The first lesson," she began, "is the art of touch. A king's pleasure begins not with the body—but with the senses. Sight, scent, touch—every detail matters."
Her cold gaze settled on Kaya. "You are inexperienced. That much is clear. And the king will sense that weakness." Kaya flinched at the bluntness of her words, her face flushing with shame. "But innocence can be an asset—if used correctly."
Reaching for a vial of fragrant oil, the Headmaid stepped closer to Sundar. "Hold out your hands," she ordered. Sundar hesitated for only a moment before extending her trembling palms.
The Headmaid poured a few drops of the golden oil into Sundar’s hands, her fingers pressing the liquid gently into her skin. "Softness," she murmured. " A king’s hands are familiar with the grip of swords—but what he desires in his chambers is a softness that only a woman can offer. Your touch must be delicate—enticing. Let him crave it without knowing why."
She guided Sundar’s fingers in slow, fluid motions, her touch firm as she demonstrated the technique. "When you touch him, you do not just touch his body," she continued. "You make him feel wanted. Powerful. Your hands should speak the devotion you cannot always say aloud."
Sundar’s heart pounded as she tried to follow the movements. Her mind spun with images of Mrityunjaya’s firm grip and the searing intensity of his kiss. Would this—pleasing him—become her new reality?
The Headmaid then turned her attention to Kaya. "And you," she said, "must learn to carry yourself with grace." Her voice dropped into a softer but no less commanding tone. "A concubine does not merely exist in the king’s presence—she becomes his every desire."
She moved behind Kaya, adjusting her posture by placing a hand against the small of her back. "Stand taller," she instructed. "Your body is an offering. And when you walk, it must be with purpose—elegant, but never too bold."
Kaya’s cheeks burned with humiliation as the Headmaid’s words sank in, but she obeyed, forcing herself to hold her head higher. Yet beneath her outward composure, her mind raced. The king’s touch had shaken her more than she wanted to admit—and now she was being taught how to surrender further.
Finally, the Headmaid stepped back, her expression hard. "You will continue these lessons until your every breath belongs to him." Her gaze was unyielding as she delivered the final blow. "Your body is no longer your own—it is the king’s. And you will shape yourselves into whatever pleases him… no matter what it takes."
As the heavy weight of her words settled over them, Sundar and Kaya felt their hearts tremble with fear—and something far more dangerous.
The path they had been forced onto was no longer one of simple service. It was one of complete and utter submission.
And there was no turning back.
●•■●•■•●■•●
As the Headmaid turned to leave the chamber, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor, the heavy silence was broken by the sudden arrival of a servant. The young woman hurried inside, bowing deeply—not before the Headmaid, but before Sundar and Kaya.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Their eyes widened in disbelief as they watched the servant bend her head low, a gesture they themselves had performed countless times. To see someone who had once been their equal now bowing before them felt strange—awkward and deeply unsettling.
Sundar shifted uncomfortably, casting a hesitant glance at Kaya. Their hearts pounded with confusion. Was this truly their place now? No longer servants—but something far more delicate and dangerous.
The Headmaid, catching their hesitation, narrowed her eyes sharply. A single glance from her was enough to remind them of the role they were expected to play. Strength. Grace. Authority. Even if they didn’t feel it—they had to show it.
Swallowing the awkwardness rising in her throat, Sundar straightened her back, lifting her chin slightly. Kaya followed her lead, though her fingers trembled softly at her sides. The servant, still kneeling, finally spoke.
"Sundar Baisa, Ranasa has summoned you to his chamber."
The words hung heavy in the air, like a thunderclap echoing through their minds. Sundar’s breath hitched, her heart thudding against her ribs. He had summoned her. Alone.
The Headmaid’s brow furrowed in confusion. Her voice, sharp and laced with suspicion, broke the tense silence.
"What?" She stepped forward, the cane in her hand tapping against her palm. "Only Sundar? Not Kaya?"
The servant kept her head bowed but answered promptly. "Ji, Ranasa has requested only Sundar Baisa." With her message delivered, she rose, bowing once more before slipping out of the chamber as quietly as she had come.
The door closed softly behind her, leaving the three women frozen in the stillness. Sundar’s mind spun with questions. Why only her? Why now? Had she done something wrong—or was this just another test?
Kaya’s face mirrored her thoughts, confusion clouding her eyes as she glanced at Sundar. For the first time, something like worry stirred within her. They had always faced everything together—ever since childhood. The idea of being separated now felt... wrong.
But the Headmaid had no time for their doubts. Her expression hardened, masking whatever surprise she felt. "Sundar," she said, her voice cold and commanding. "You must go. Now."
Sundar hesitated, glancing once at Kaya—a silent exchange of unspoken fears. Kaya’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she gave a faint nod, forcing a small, encouraging smile.
Sundar took a deep breath, forcing down the unease swirling inside her. Just as she turned to leave, the Headmaid’s voice cut through the air again—a final reminder.
"And remember—" Her tone sharpened, the weight of her expectations settling heavy on Sundar’s shoulders. "Tonight is not just your first night with Ranasa—it is your exam. Everything I have taught you will be tested. You are no longer a girl in his palace—you are a woman meant to please a king. Do not fail him. And do not," her eyes gleamed with a chilling intensity, "fail me."
The words struck like a stone in her chest. Failure was not an option.
Sundar swallowed her nerves, her fingers curling into her palms to stop them from trembling. She gave a small, respectful bow. "Ji." she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended but firm enough to show she understood.
Without another word, she turned and walked toward the door. Every step felt heavier than the last as she struggled to keep her heart from racing. She knew once she crossed that threshold, there was no turning back.
One last time, she cast a glance over her shoulder—at Kaya. Their eyes met in the dim light, and in that brief moment, they were not future concubines, not the Headmaid’s protégées—just two girls, bound by fate, stepping into an unknown future.
And then, Sundar slipped through the door, leaving the chamber behind—leaving who she once was behind—and walked toward the king.
The Headmaid paced back and forth across the chamber, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the tense silence. Her face, usually cold and composed, was twisted with frustration. The flickering light from the lanterns cast jagged shadows on the walls, mirroring the storm brewing inside her mind.
Kaya sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She dared not speak, but her eyes followed the Headmaid’s every movement, sensing the growing agitation that filled the air.
"How can Ranasa summon her at this time?" the Headmaid snapped, her voice low but seething with anger. "I already spoke to him—made it clear that you and Sundar are still in your training period. Neither of you is fully prepared. After you both are trained—after you are completely ready to serve him—only then should he summon you to his chamber."
She stopped abruptly, turning toward Kaya with a glare that burned like fire. "But no. His Majesty cannot wait, can he?" Her tone dripped with irritation. "You both are far from being well-trained. There are still so many things you need to learn—and even more that I need to teach you."
Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists, struggling to contain the surge of frustration. "Being summoned to the king’s chamber is not some meaningless act—a simple night spent beneath silk sheets before walking away in the morning. It is an art. A duty." Her voice grew harsher, cutting through the air like a blade. "It is about pleasing him in every way—mind, body, and soul. And if you fail…"
She trailed off, the weight of her unspoken words heavy in the room. Failure was not an option. Not for them—and certainly not for her.
A bitter scoff escaped her lips as she resumed pacing, the cane in her hand tapping against her palm. "Ranasa and his reckless desires," she muttered under her breath. "He is so impatient—always acting on impulse. And that foolish girl—" Her jaw tightened with a mix of anger and worry.
"I can only hope she does not freeze in fear the moment she sees him. If she stands there trembling like a frightened rabbit, he will tear her apart." Her gaze darkened with a flicker of genuine concern. "And if she dares run away from him like a scared little girl—" She paused, exhaling sharply. "He will not forgive her. And I cannot protect her."
For a brief moment, the mask of sternness cracked, revealing the shadow of fear lurking beneath. Despite her cold exterior, she knew all too well the danger of disappointing a king like Rana Mrityunjaya.
Turning back to Kaya, she fixed her with a piercing stare. "You," she said, her voice softer but no less intense. "You must learn from this. The next time he summons you—you will not have the luxury of mistakes. If Sundar fails tonight, it will fall on you to do better. Do you understand?"
Kaya swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "Ji." she whispered, the weight of the Headmaid’s words pressing down on her chest like a stone.
The Headmaid’s expression softened—only for a moment—before hardening once more. "Good," she said curtly. "Because once the king sets his sights on you, there is no turning back. And no mercy for failure."
With that final warning, she turned sharply on her heel and strode out of the chamber, leaving Kaya alone with the echo of her footsteps—and the chilling reminder of the fate that awaited them both.
●•■●•■•●■•●
At Mrityunjaya’s Chamber
Sundar stepped into the chamber, the air thick with an intoxicating mix of sandalwood and musk. The dim glow of oil lamps and flickering candles cast long shadows across the room, making everything appear larger, grander—more dangerous.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as her gaze swept over the space. A strange silence loomed, stretching between the golden walls and heavy drapes, waiting—watching.
Her steps were slow but steady, her Payals chiming softly in the heavy silence. She could feel the cold marble beneath her bare feet, grounding her, reminding her of what she had been trained for.
Then she saw him.
Mrityunjaya sat on a tall golden chair, his throne within his chamber, draped in an aura of untamed dominance. He was bare-chested, his powerful frame glowing under the dim light, the sculpted ridges of his muscles looking as if they had been carved by gods themselves. His long dark hair fell over one shoulder, adding to the raw, untamed power that radiated from him.
His eyes—dark, sharp, unreadable—settled on her like a predator observing prey.
Sundar’s breath hitched. For a fleeting second, she faltered.
Everything about him screamed danger, power, possession. He was a man born to conquer—to own. And tonight, she was what he owned.
But she could not let fear betray her.
The Headmaid’s words echoed in her mind:
"You are no longer a girl in his palace—you are a woman meant to please a king. Do not fail him."
She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked towards him with carefully measured steps—each one a practiced art of seduction.
The closer she got, the heavier the air felt, thick with something undeniable, unspoken, unavoidable.
Her Payals continued their soft, melodic tune, the only sound in the cavernous room.
Finally, she stopped before him, lowering her gaze just enough to show respect—but not weakness.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Only watched.
Then, his lips curled into a smirk—dark, knowing, filled with something that sent a shiver down her spine.
"You walk well." His voice was low, deep—a command wrapped in silk.
Sundar swallowed, keeping her breath steady.
"You have been trained well." His gaze traveled over her slowly, deliberately, as if testing the weight of his own desire. "But tell me, little Sundar… do you know why you are here tonight?"
Her throat went dry, but she forced herself to answer. "To serve you, Ranasa."
His smirk deepened.
"And do you know what that means?"
Her fingers trembled slightly, but she kept them at her sides, hidden in the folds of her garments.
"Ji, Ranasa." Her voice was softer now, uncertain—but obedient.
Mrityunjaya leaned forward, his bare chest gleaming in the candlelight, his presence overwhelming.
"Then prove it."
The challenge in his voice sent a bolt of something unfamiliar through her veins. Fear. Anticipation. Something she could not name.
She had been taught how to walk. How to stand. How to look at him. But now—now, she had to give herself to him.
Her first night with the King had begun.
Sundar’s breath came slow and measured, her body tense but poised. The air between them crackled, thick with something dangerous, something consuming.
Mrityunjaya leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest of his golden chair, his piercing gaze unwavering. He was in no rush—the lion watching, waiting, before striking.
"You say you are here to serve me," he murmured, his deep voice curling around her senses like silk. "Do you even know what that means, little Sundar?"
She swallowed, but she did not lower her gaze this time. She couldn’t. That would mean defeat, and she knew—he liked to see people submit.
"Ji, Ranasa," she answered, her voice steadier than she felt.
His lips curved, slow and knowing.
"Then show me."
His words sent a jolt down her spine, an unspoken challenge hanging between them.
She hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer, the soft chime of her Payals echoing in the heavy silence. Her hands trembled slightly, but she kept them at her sides, remembering everything the Headmaid had taught her.
Walk with grace. Own your place. Do not falter.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she reached him. Mrityunjaya remained still, letting her approach, letting her decide the next move—or at least making her believe she had control.
But she knew better. No one controlled him.
Sundar lifted a hand, her fingers barely grazing his shoulder. Heat. Strength. Power. He was impossibly warm beneath her touch, his skin smooth but firm, a body carved from war and bloodshed.
His smirk deepened. "Careful, little one. Touching a King is dangerous."
Her pulse stuttered. Was he teasing her? Or was this another test?
His large hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, stopping her movement. She gasped softly, but he did not let go. Instead, his thumb lazily brushed over her skin, his grip firm but not painful.
"You hesitate," he murmured. "Are you afraid of me, Sundar?"
She parted her lips, struggling to breathe through the tension pulling her under.
"No, Ranasa."
A lie.
He saw through it immediately. His smirk turned darker, his hold on her wrist tightening just enough to make her feel trapped.
"Liar."
Sundar's chest rose and fell with the weight of the moment. This was power. This was control. And she was being tested—pushed to see how much she could endure.
And yet, despite the fear twisting in her stomach, there was something else. Something she had never felt before.
His grip shifted, trailing his fingers down her wrist, her palm, before releasing her altogether. The loss of contact was unexpectedly sharp.
"Come closer," he ordered, his voice quieter now, but no less commanding.
Sundar obeyed. Not because she had no choice—but because something in her wanted to.
His legs parted slightly, making space for her to stand between them. She did. Too close. Not close enough.
His eyes never left hers as he reached out, his calloused fingers grazing the delicate skin of her waist. Not gentle. Not rough. Just enough to make her tremble.
"You look like a doe caught in the jaws of a wolf," he murmured, his thumb slowly tracing circles over the fabric of her lehenga.
Sundar inhaled sharply, her body betraying her with a shiver.
He chuckled softly, a sound both amused and victorious. "Tell me, Sundar... did the Headmaid teach you what happens next?"
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Because she didn’t know.
Not really.
Not until now.
And then, in the next breath—he pulled her down onto his lap.
●•■●•■•●■•●
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