Urvashi bowed her head slightly, her voice carrying a gentle lilt. "If I am to be a blessing, then may I not be the kind that comes too easily. For what is a blessing worth, if it does not also test the strength of the one who receives it?"

Her eyes shimmered with quiet humor as she added, "Besides, even the gods are known to offer boons with conditions. Should a mere mortal like me do any less?"

Adeettiya's lips quirked, his gaze never leaving hers. He decided to answer her,  "Then I shall accept your blessing, Devi, conditions and all. After all—" his voice dipped into an amused murmur, "—diamonds are never given without the trial of fire. Why should I expect anything less from you?"

The faintest glimmer of pride flickered in his eyes, as though her words had both challenged and delighted him.

The laughter, soft and fleeting, lingered in the air, like the fragrance of jasmine wafting from the carved niches that held silver lamps. The Purva Mandapa's dining chamber glowed with the late morning sun filtering through the latticed jharokhas, painting golden diamonds over the polished stone floors. It was एकविंशतिर्नाडिकाः षड्विंशतिपलाः (ekaviṁśatiḥ nāḍikāḥ ṣaḍviṁśatipālāḥ) in the morning. The Kalingaraj, let the silence ripen for a breath before clearing his throat. His gaze was measured, carrying both warmth and the leverage of command as it settled upon his son. "Adeettiya," he said, each syllable resounding with quiet authority, "our Devi Urvashi is new to these walls, though her presence feels as though it has long been written into them. It would not do for her to see only the stone and shadows of Purva Mandapa."

He leaned back slightly, resting his hand against the lion-headed armrest beside the cushioned seat. "Take her through the palace complex. Let her eyes know the heart of the abode that shelters her now."

There was no mistaking the subtle command beneath his words. Adeettiya inclined his head in acknowledgment, but his father continued, almost as though he sought to remind the crown prince of both duty and pride. His gaze softened, but only slightly, as he named the other complexes other than the Purva Mandapa. "From there, take her to Dakshina Mandapa, the southern wing: where the armory and training grounds thunder with the discipline of warriors. Then to Paschima Mandapa, our western wing, where the royal council convenes; where matters of justice and diplomacy breathe. And at last to Uttara Mandapa, the northern heart—our sanctum, where devotion and the wisdom of ancestors guard the spirit of this lineage."

The Maharaja's words, though spoken with poise, decorated the chamber like a tapestry woven with vivid imagery tinged with ancestral pride. His eyes, steady and sharp, flicked briefly to his son, then to Urvashi, as though to say more than his voice allowed: This is not merely a tour. This is a passage—yours as much as hers.

Adeettiya straightened fully, his hand brushing the fabric of his angavastram, anchoring himself to stand. He turned to Urvashi, and though his words were formal, there was an undercurrent of curiosity that threaded through them. "Shall we, Devi? The palace is vast, but with patience, it will begin to feel less like a chore and more like a memory." He stepped off the platform first, offering his hand to Urvashi, not as a prince to a guest, but as a guide to someone discovering a world anew. She took it gracefully, her fingers brushing his briefly, and together they moved through the vast expanse of Purva Mandapa, after bidding the Imperial Majesty a farewell.

Sunlight poured through the latticed windows, fracturing into shifting patterns of gold and shadow that danced across polished stone floors. Each corridor stretched like a river of history, the walls lined with carved pillars as usual depicting gods, warriors, and sages locked in eternal tales. Incense lingered faintly in the air, a subtle perfume of sandalwood and jasmine that made each step feel measured, deliberate.

Urvashi paused at intervals, her gaze lingering on the carved pillars depicting tales of gods, warriors, and sages. No matter how many times would she pass from here, she would feel spellbound by the craftmanship of this era. It was electrifying to witness such a marvel with one's own eyes. No words could properly describe her feelings. "The artistry..." she murmured, awestruck, "it's as if time and grandeur themselves have been stitched into these walls."

Adeettiya smiled faintly, a flicker of pride in his brown irises. ""जगज्ज्योतिष्मान् भास्करः प्रीतोऽस्तु सदा नः । एष देवालयो नूतनः, पुत्रजन्मोत्सवे निर्मितः ॥ यत्र कला शौर्यं च भक्त्या संगतम् अस्ति, तत्रैव कालः स्थिरो भाति सूर्यकृपया ॥" He inhaled the warm ambrosial aroma and smiled at Urvashi, "That is the beauty of a place dedicated to Surya Devta himself. This temple complex is young, yet it bears the timeless soul of our land. My grandfather built it on the auspicious dawn of my birth, for my name too is bound to the Sun. He wished that as Surya lights the heavens, so may I bring radiance to Kalinga."

(May Bhāskara, the radiant light of the universe, ever be pleased with us. This new shrine was raised on the festival of a son's birth. Here art and valor join hands with devotion, and by Surya's grace, even Time itself shines still.)

They passed through arched corridors that led deeper into the palace, the southern and western wings peeking from adjoining passages, yet their destination remained unspoken and a mystery to Urvashi. The Crown Prince allowed her pauses, her wonder, without comment, letting her eyes absorb every detail; the way sunlight gilded the edges of a carved arch, how shadows pooled beneath the jharokhas like ink.

Finally, they reached a pair of enormous teak doors, inlaid with brass filigree that shimmered in the afternoon sun. Adeettiya pressed them open, and the scene beyond made even him pause. The sight beyond the grand doors stole even Adeettiya's breath for a second. Beyond the threshold lay the central garden, a vast oasis cradled within the heart of the palace, guarded by the palace wings. Marble pathways wound through lush greenery, fountains sung soft lullabies, and flowering plants tumbled over stone planters in cascades of reds, pinks, and whites. Water trickled over carved stone basins, sunlight catching each droplet like liquid crystal. Birds flitted across the open spaces, chirping and crooning, and the faint rustle of leaves blended with the breeze that added to the serenity of this well-kept secret. Nearby, lotus ponds mirrored the clear sky with their wide blossoms unfolding over still waters, while lily ponds spread their green pads like scattered jewels, delicate white and violet blooms swaying gently with the ripple of fish below.

Adeettiya turned back to beckon Urvashi to enter the threshold. The garden breeze drifted through, carrying the fragrance of blooming jasmines, stirring his hair with a gentle touch. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, falling over him in molten streams that seemed to deepen his glow. A smile lingered on his lips. It was not forced nor princely, but free, light, and brimming with quiet glee. In that moment, amidst flowers and sunlight, he seemed less a figure of duty and more a soul at ease, radiant in the simple happiness of being.

"Come, Lady Urvashi. Allow me the privilege of guiding you around these grounds."

So this is the nature that hides behind the prince, Urvashi thought, her eyes lingering on the light in his smile. A freedom untamed by responsibilities, a spirit unburdened.

Urvashi smiled. She followed him.

Adeettiya remained a step ahead, allowing her to take it in fully before he spoke. "It is called the Hridaya Udyan, the Garden of the Heart. The very heart and soul of this palace beats here. Many have walked these paths, seeking solace, counsel, or celebration.  Few truly listen and resonate with these greenery, stones and waters."

They moved along the marble pathway flanked by low hedges and flowering bushes. The sunlight frolicked across the surface, reflecting in tiny streams on the stone, while water from the fountains flowed in irregular cadences. Urvashi's gaze shifted from one corner of the garden to the next; a carved stone bench here, an ornate archway framing a patch of golden sunlight there. She took it all in with quiet reverence.

Adeettiya guided her gently, but never hurried her. Each footstep seemed to reveal something new: a patch of moss growing in a hidden crevice, a carved lotus blooming eternally from stone, the delicate ripple of water in a basin catching the light at just the right angle. She occasionally tilted her head to watch a bird take flight, or lingered a second longer where the sunlight met the cool breeze, inhaling the earthy air.

Urvashi moved closer to the flowering bushes in a futile attempt to catch the butterflies and dragonflies, "I... I could spend lifetimes here and still not uncover it all," she murmured.

Adeettiya's gaze softened, and he allowed himself another rare, genuine smile. "Then we shall start with one lifetime," he said quietly, "and see where the palace leads you next."

Urvashi stepped forward slowly, taking in the expanse with wide, reflective eyes. She did not speak, but the awe that colored her gaze was unmistakable. Her eyes shone with the radiance of a soul who has found nirvana, even if it was temporary. She wanted time to stop forever.

Finally, they reached a main, grand central fountain, its water cascading over a tiered basin into a larger pool, ripples sending reflections of the surrounding flowers and arches dancing across the marble pathways. Adeettiya motioned subtly for her to pause, giving her space to absorb the scene.

Urvashi's gaze lingered on the fountain, her fingers tracing the edge absentmindedly, her lips parting slightly in quiet awe. The words caught up in her throat. It would be an insult to even describe its beauty. No amount of praises can accolade the efforts of men, in the era where there were no such efficient tools as the modern era.

"Hridaya Udyan was commissioned by one of our ancestors, Maharaja Srutayudha. He fought in the great war of Mahabharata, aligned with the Kaurava army. Many know him as a warrior, a man of strategy and valor. Yet he built this garden not for conquest or ceremony, but for his queen, whom he loved dearly."

Urvashi's gaze lifted to him, the quiet awe in her posture amplified by the weight of his words.

Adeettiya continued, his tone low, almost reverent. "They say he would return from battle, weary and bloodied, yet he would walk these paths, tending to the flowers with his own hands, speaking softly to her in the evenings. He wanted a place where she could feel peace, where the world of politics and war could not touch her, and where the stones and streams themselves would whisper devotion in his absence."

The sunlight filtered through trellises overhead, gilding each petal and leaf, while water from nearby fountains added a soft, constant music to their steps.

"She believed in the stories the garden could tell," Adeettiya said quietly, "more than the legends of the battlefield. Even today, it is said that those who walk these paths with an open heart can hear her laughter, feel her joy, as if she still moves among the blooms she loved."

Urvashi's fingers hovered over a small fountain, water trickling over carved lotus petals. She did not speak, but her quiet wonder, the tilt of her head, the slow, reverent steps, betrayed a soul moved by more than just beauty.

After a beat of silence, she looked up at Adeettiya and asked softly, "Did she truly feel the peace he meant for her... or did the world of crowns and battles always reached her, no matter how beautiful the garden?"

Adeettiya's brow lifted, a flicker of surprise in his eyes at her focus on the queen's response rather than the king's grandeur and love. He paused, letting the sunlight glint off the fountains and the breeze stir the leaves, before speaking in a measured, reflective tone.

"Most are drawn to deeds on the battlefield, to the sweep of armies and the glory of crowns," he said, his gaze thoughtful. "Yet it is in the quiet acts, the choices made away from power and spectacle, that true character reveals itself.", His eyes held a distant look, "You have seen what many overlook: how she inhabited the spaces of life that even kings cannot command, how the heart can claim freedom where the world imposes none. She lived there, among flowers and fountains, where the heart alone held sway, and the world of crowns and armies could not reach her. "

Urvashi's eyes drifted to the fountains, to the lotus blooms, to the sunlight glimmering on water. "I wish... I wish we could all live like that," she murmured softly, her voice almost lost in the breeze. "Where joy and freedom are not dictated by crowns or battles, but simply by the heart... But that just might be my wishful thinking."

Adeettiya's gaze softened, a rare warmth touching his usually poised expression. With the dignity of a prince yet the lightness of one who truly understood, he said, "Perhaps it is wishful thinking, yet it is not impossible. Even within the bounds of duty, hearts can find their quiet gardens. We may yet choose where our freedom blooms."

"You are right."

They reached a small stone bridge crossing a gentle stream, the sunlight dancing across the ripples in fractured diamonds. Adeettiya gestured subtly for her to pause, giving her space to drink in the scene and for him to continue his narration. "Every stone here was placed with intention, every tree planted with thought. Hridaya Udyan is not merely a garden. It is a chronicle of devotion, courage, and love, woven into the very earth. Even the air, the fountains, the pathways, they remember."

Urvashi's eyes drifted over the expanse, lingering on shaded alcoves, flowering trellises, and fountains, absorbing the story without words.  Her mind was still struck on the exchange that had happened. "This pavilion here," Adeettiya said quietly, gesturing toward a delicate structure of white marble at the edge of the garden, "was where Maharaja Srutayudha's queen would sit to read or write letters. He would often join her at dusk, bringing water lilies from the fountains, placing them on the marble ledge. They say even the breeze seemed to lean toward her laughter."

Urvashi sat on the cool white bench, swinging her legs alternately. She closed her eyes for a brief minute, leaning against the marble pillar, and listened his story intently.

"They say," he continued softly, "that after the war, Srutayudha would walk these gardens alone, remembering battles, fallen friends... yet he would always find solace here, in this space that was built purely for love. It is said he planted each tree with a prayer, each flower with hope. Every stone, every fountain, every path is imbued with vitality. It is why even centuries later, the garden feels alive."