Vidyuta proved to be a skilled and methodical physician. He spoke very little, but gave explicit instructions, and expected prompt action. 

He also expected the highest level of secrecy regarding the young general’s condition. Satya was told to ask for hot water, clean cloth and other surgical items from Veerata’s personal guards only. They fetched the items from the kitchen, without alerting the mayor’s staff.

She watched Vidyuta’s treatment with keen interest. Although Acharya had given her permission to attend his own surgeries for learning, her studies did not include such procedures. 

Vidyuta raised the patient's antariya, exposing his legs up to the hips. A deep scar was visible on his left thigh. One look at the wound was enough for Satya. She knew the young general had been suffering for a long time.

The wound appeared healed, yet it kept reopening from time to time. It was a wonder that the garment had not soaked red. Vidyuta cleaned the blood with hot water and cloth. 

The patient shivered a little. In contrast, his breathing had become easier now. His painful moans had also turned into a low hum. However, his handsome face remained contorted in pain. Sweat still glistened on his forehead. 

Vidyuta prepared a balm on the bedside table. The fragrance of dried herbs overshadowed the lingering aroma of the jasmine incense in the room. 

Satya picked up a fresh cloth, dipped it in the water basin, and wiped the young general’s forehead. Even through the folds of the wet cloth, she felt a sudden current pass through. She flinched, unprepared for the abrupt revelation. In a single contact with his skin, she’d gained deep knowledge of the wound. 

Hiding her astonishment, she asked the doctor. “May I ask how he got injured like this?”

He replied, engrossed in his work, “It was in battle—three years ago.”

“The siege of Amritambu?”

“Have you heard of it?”

“A little.”

“Pass me some more cloth, please!”

Satya complied with the doctor’s orders. When he looked distracted for a moment, she touched her fingertips to the exposed skin on the young general’s wounded thigh. Her touch did not hurt him. Instead, she could feel the answer more clearly now. 

Remnants of a powerful fire magic lingered in his flesh and bones. She recognised the power. Memories of her beloved elder sister resurfaced in her mind; an undeniable connection forged in their common bloodline. 

It was clear Nandini had fought Veerata. How else could he have received a wound from her powers? 

She glanced at the doctor. Dare I ask him? Would he really tell me the truth? 

She took a chance. “I heard Senapati won the siege,” she said. “This wound looks fatal, though. How is that possible?”

“It was fatal, yes,” the young physician sighed. “It has improved over the years. But it keeps opening up from time to time.” 

Vidyuta applied a medicinal paste to the clean wound. Veerata stirred and writhed at the sting of the herbs. The whole paste applied, Vidyuta turned back to the bedside table. This time, he prepared a decoction. 

“Can you tell me,” Satya continued, “under what conditions did he get this wound?”

Vidyuta snapped. “What’s with all the questions? Can’t you see I’m working here? I need complete silence. Do you understand?”

Satya gulped again. Despite his impatience, she had to tell him about her discovery. “Please, doctor, this is not a normal battle wound. There’s magic power still trapped in Senapati’s leg.”

“Magic power?” He raised an eyebrow, shocked for the second time. He glanced at the comatose patient, remembering something from a long time ago. “How can you be so sure?” he asked after a pause.

Satya had prepared for this question. “Acharya taught me how to feel magic power in a wound.” 

This was only half the truth. Although Acharya knew how to detect magic power in a wound, he had never taught it to any of his students. 

Satya persisted. “If I know the exact conditions in which he got wounded, I might help you remove the magic. The wound will heal faster, then.”

The answer worked. 

Vidyuta had heard of Acharya’s expertise, so he believed her. “He was trying to save Maharani Nandini,” he replied, having deliberated in silence for a while. 

Satya’s breath hitched in her chest, hearing her beloved elder sister’s name. She opened her mouth to ask for further details, but no sound would come out. 

Vidyuta continued to speak. He recollected the events that the young general had shared with him about what happened in the tower inside Amritam palace. 

The queen had lured the young general and his men into the tower. It’d seemed like she was just hiding from them. But in truth, it’d been an ambush. 

Veerata had wanted her captured alive, which had seemed impossible under the circumstances. He’d begged her again and again to surrender. He’d never raised his sword. She wouldn’t stop fighting. She’d hurled fire bullets at them. 

One archer’s arrow had struck her in the chest. When Veerata had tried to help her, she’d unleashed all her powers to destroy him. The same archer had pushed him to safety at the last minute before the blast. The young general had escaped with this wound while his archer and the queen had died in the explosion. 

Hearing how her beloved elder sister perished moved Satya to tears. Steeling herself, she held back her emotions. 

Once again, she turned a grateful eye towards Veerata. She had blamed him for Nandini’s death all this time. If the young physician’s words were true, then he did not kill her sister. He was trying to save her. Had she surrendered to him, Nandini would be alive today. The thought was comforting and crushing at the same time. However, Satya reasoned that her hatred for Veerata could never vanish. 

Tonight she would save his life for the girls held captive in the basement, and for the compassion he had shown her beloved elder sister.