Not ten minutes ago, Satya's heart pounded in her ears when Veerata closed the gap between them. 

As his hand tilted her face upwards, and his blazing, amber-coloured eyes studied her left cheek, she could feel his breath on her face. The mixed scent of sandalwood and sweat invaded her senses. 

“Who did this to you?”

“I don't remember...”

Like in a dream, she saw him return to her with the scroll and heard his instructions on how she could get past the guards of the mayor’s mansion. 

Why is he helping me?

He also promised to get the other girls released. She wondered at her own luck. Not only had her enemy failed to recognise her, he had also set her free. As she moved towards the door, she couldn’t help thinking about whether he was this kind to all the women he met. 

If he knew my true identity, would he still help me? 

She didn't have time to dwell on that possibility. A dull thud made her turn back. Veerata had collapsed on the floor. Before she knew it, she had rushed to his side, and knelt down.

“Senapati, are you alright?” 

His breathing had grown erratic. She touched his wrist. His heartbeat was higher than normal. He was falling into a feverish coma. He tried to tell her something, but she couldn’t catch what it was. 

“Senapati,” she cried. “Senapati, wake up! Wake up!” 

Her cries failed to reach him. She stared in bewilderment at the young general lying unconscious on the floor before her. On instinct, she remembered the last time she had come face-to-face with him. 

Three years ago, the great general of Satayu had invaded the ancient kingdom of Amritambu, leading a regiment of skilled soldiers, to recover the Emperor Padmapani’s white stallion. The horse, carrying the terms of the Ashwamedha Yajna, had been captured on Queen Nandini’s orders. 

In Sanskrit, ‘Ashwa’ means horse, ‘Medha’ means sacrifice, and ‘Yajna’ means ritual. In effect, the Ashwamedha Yajna was a horse sacrifice ritual. Decades prior, ambitious rulers used this ritual on occasion to declare their sovereignty over the rest of the world. Padmapani, ruler of Satayu, had already proclaimed himself as ‘Samrat’, emperor of the continent, amid the year-long ceremony. 

The next day, Veerata and his troops had arrived, laying siege to the city kingdom. Just before dawn the same morning, the young queen, foreseeing her inevitable loss, had ordered two of her most trusted servants to help her younger sister, Princess Amodini, escape from the kingdom. 

Sulochana, the head maid, and Madhava, the senior-most warrior, had led fifteen-year-old Amodini away from the palace, in a horse chariot towards the southern forest, despite all her protests against being separated from her beloved elder sister. They’d planned to avoid the young general’s advancing column. However, as luck would have it, their paths crossed right at the edge of the forest. 

Veerata had been riding at the forefront. Little Amodini had seen him as a fierce, hard-faced young warrior riding a magnificent white horse. Before she’d fainted, frightened and overwhelmed, she’d heard him order his soldiers to stop the chariot. 

When she came to, they’d already crossed the forest and reached the borders of Satayu’s farmlands. Being a veteran warrior, Uncle Madhava had every intention of fighting the enemy until his death. But his queen’s last orders had been to protect Princess Amodini at all costs.

Later on, he’d narrated how he’d outraced the Satayu soldiers. Once they reached the forest, it’d been easy to lose the tailing enemy. He’d deemed it impossible to go to Matsya since Satayu soldiers remained stationed at the borders of her late uncle’s kingdom. The safest place on the continent had been Satayu itself. The enemy would never expect her to hide amongst their own populace. 

On reaching Satvikshila, Uncle Madhava had believed he’d protected little Amodini. But he couldn’t keep out the news of the ensuing tragedy. 

Couple of weeks later, the unhappy little princess had learnt that her elder sister, Nandini, the last queen of Amritambu, had died in an explosion in the tallest tower of Amritam palace.

With a heavy heart, little Amodini had settled into her new life. Embracing her new identity, she’d changed her name to Satya, adopted her trusted servants as aunt and uncle, discarded her royal attire for more common clothing, got a scholarship to study at Satvikshila university, and worked hard to bury her miserable past deep inside her heart. 

Now, in the present day, Satya could only marvel at the fate that had brought her sworn enemy to her mercy. At first, she pulled back from the unconscious young general.

What luck! 

The glint of the bronze scabbard tied to his cummerbund tempted her. She could unsheathe the sword, drive it straight through his heart, and avenge her elder sister’s death. The same brave sister’s words stopped her. 

A true warrior of Amritambu does not strike a defenceless person. 

The memory made her regret her unjust thoughts. Also, she needed the young general to live. He’d promised to save the other kidnapped young maidens. She couldn’t let him die yet. Despite her avowed hatred, her heart also remembered his gentle demeanour from moments ago. He’d seemed so different from the fierce warrior she had glimpsed at the edge of the forest three years ago. 

Was he pretending not to know me? That makes no sense. 

Possibly, for some unfathomable reason, he’d failed to recognise her. If that was true, then she was a complete stranger to him. Despite that, he’d given her not only his upper garment but also a scroll containing his personal emblem so that she could leave the mansion unharmed. 

Could I truly kill him in this state? 

Would it not be more honourable to fight him on an equal footing? 

Shouldn’t he at least know his opponent’s true identity?

Satya returned to the door. Pushing it open, she held up the unravelled scroll to the guards outside, revealing the personal emblem of the great general of Satayu. 

“Please call the physician.”