Semua Bab The Rule: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Inayat strolled through the palace courtyard, under the warm sunlight of late afternoon. The sweet fragrance of blooming lotuses wafted through the air which was heightened by the coolness of the water pool and wet soil, and fresh green leaves, but her mind remained consumed by the memories of the previous night. Samarth's touch lingered in her thoughts, and with each recollection, a shiver coursed through her body, taunting her with the realization that her body, once reserved for Izhar, was now being claimed by his elder brother.The gentle rustle of the palm trees in the courtyard made a silent and soothing whisper in the slowly passing summer sir, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Months had passed since she began to emerge from the anguish of Izhar's death, but only she knew the countless hours she spent crying and reminiscing about their laughter, their moments of love, and the memories they shared. Each day, she liv

A week had passed since Queen Calantha's letter arrived, claiming the river Eldrida as her own. Samarth had offered peace and was now waiting for a response, which might take some time. He hoped for a peaceful answer, as war was not something he desired. According to his wisdom, peace was always the better choice. However, if provoked, he would not hesitate to defend his people.As he practiced swordsmanship in the courtyard, the sound of clashing steel echoed through the air. The leaves of the nearby trees rustled softly in the breeze. Samarth focused on his training, his movements precise and controlled. The sky was darkening, with clouds gathering on the horizon. The air carried the scent of impending rain, a smell Samarth enjoyed. He decided to practice outside, savoring the fresh air and the sound of nature. The sound of clashing steel and the rustling leaves created a soothing background noise. Samarth's thoughts were focused on the task at hand, yet he was also mindful of

He dipped his head, brushing his lips along the curve of her chest, his kisses scattered like whispers. The warmth of his mouth against her skin clouded her thoughts, and she hated that she let herself feel anything at all. Still, her body betrayed her—the tension in her limbs loosening, her mind beginning to blur beneath the weight of his touch.Between kisses, his voice came, low and threaded with something heavier.“I must leave soon,” he murmured, his lips trailing slowly across her skin. “War stirs on the horizon.”He lingered just beneath her collarbone, as though he could press the truth into her bones with his mouth alone.“The river Eldrida… it’s no longer just water—it’s blood waiting to be spilled. Tziyonia and Everia now stand at the edge of war.”A soft cry escaped her as his mouth continued its devotion. Her fingers twisted into the silk sheets beneath her, the tension tightening through her thighs.“I—I know,” she managed, voice trembling, eyes shut tight as her breath

The battle was at their doorstep, and all preparations had been made. At dawn, the army stood ready—soldiers in rows, commanders beside their steeds, and at the front of them all, stood King Samarth, cloaked in resolve, prepared to march toward the fate awaiting them on the battlefield. Within the palace, the air was thick with prayers. The maidens and servants had fasted, their lips whispering supplications from the depths of their hearts. Each prayer floated like incense, rising to the heavens, pleading for the safety of their king and the brave men who followed him. For all who dwelt in the palace knew too well the heavy cost of war. While final tasks were being hurriedly completed and armor polished to mirror the sun, King Samarth stood in quiet conversation with his chief advisor, Yuvraj. Their words were few, but weighty—measured like gold on a merchant's scale. It was then that Inayat stepped into the palace courtyard, her presence soft but striking like the hush before rain.

The war unfolded just as it had been foretold—written not in the stars, but on the breath of Samarth’s God. The soldiers of Everia, bold in their numbers, laughed at the sight of Samarth’s meager force—ten thousand men standing before their eighty thousand. They had seen such odds only in legends, and they believed, without doubt, that victory already rested in their hands. But what they did not know was this: arrogance is a throne built on sand, and the tide was already turning. Samarth’s ten thousand were not ordinary men. They moved like the wind, swift and unshakable, sharpened by discipline and divine favor. Steel clashed, arrows cut the air, and before midday the proud frontlines of Calantha began to falter. Confusion crept into their ranks like smoke in a burning house. And when the sun began to lower behind the hills, the soldiers of Everia broke like glass underfoot. Panic spread through their ranks. They turned from the fight and fled across the dry earth, but Samarth