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richincolor · 2 months

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Title: A Magic Fierce and Bright Author: Hemant Nayak Genres: Fantasy, Post-apocalyptic, Action/Adventure Pages: 384 Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers Review Copy: Provided by publisher Availability: Available now

Summary: A young technomancer teams up with a handsome thief to save her sister in this propulsive, magic-filled young adult fantasy that is perfect for fans of Gearbreakers and Iron Widow.

Adya wants nothing more than to be left alone. Content to be loyal to no one but herself in the isolated jungles of South India, she dreams only of finding her lost sister, Priya, and making enough money to take care of their family. It’s too bad that her rare ability to wake electric machines—using the magic that wiped them out five centuries ago—also makes her a coveted political pawn. Everyone seems to believe that her technomancy can help them win the endless war for control over the magic’s supernatural source.

These senseless power struggles mean little to Adya. But when her enemies dangle news of her sister before her, she’s all too quick to leap at the chance to bring Priya home—even if it means teaming up with a rakish, disreputable thief in order to do it. With the threat of invasion looming ever larger on the horizon, Adya must reconcile the kind of person she is with the kind of person she wants to be and untangle the web of intrigue, conspiracy, and deceit that threatens to take all of India down with it.

Review: [While the text doesn’t go into explicit detail, there are scenes that include significant bodily harm, including the loss of a limb, and character death. There are also scenes involving human experimentation and torture, though most of that is implied/mentioned rather than shown directly.]

The world of A MAGIC FIERCE AND BRIGHT is a unique magic-induced post-apocalypse set in a fractured India on the verge of a total colonial takeover by the British. Author Hemant Nayak clearly had a lot of fun creating this world and populating it with all sorts of magical and mythological creatures. There is more than one type of magic, though I had some difficulty understanding the differences between them and the limits of their power beyond the technomancy that Adya herself practiced. It left me a little confused at points about what was or wasn’t possible in the setting, which was occasionally distracting.

I enjoy when characters who tend to focus most on their (and their family’s) survival end up swept up into greater scope plots against their will. Adya’s determination to protect her little brother and find her missing twin were relatable ways to help ground the fantastical plot, though I do wish we had been able to develop Mohan more deeply. Mohan isn’t on page for significant stretches of the book, which limited how often Adya herself could reminisce about Priya, and thus limited Priya's character depth as well.

In fact, character development was generally limited across the board. A MAGIC FIERCE AND BRIGHT has so much world building, plot movement, and location changes that there aren’t very many opportunities to really explore people or places in depth. This occasionally hinders the emotional impact of the story, like the discovery that the villain has turned a side character into a monster—we had exactly one on-page scene with the character beforehand. Sure, it was a surprise that the villain could do that with their magic, but it didn’t have the same emotional weight as it would have if we had more time with that character. Imral had a decent character arc, which I appreciated, and Dsouza had good banter with Adya but a woefully under-explored backstory. The motorcycle was endearing, and the resolution of the question of Priya was satisfying.

That said, A MAGIC FIERCE AND BRIGHT had a compelling, action-oriented plot. The characters moved from one set piece to the next, and many of the fights were memorable. I enjoyed seeing how the author would up the stakes or change up the pieces on the board the next time, and there were only one or two places where I felt the action faltered. If you’re looking for an action-oriented fantasy with spectacular fights, you’ll enjoy this. If you prefer your fantasy centered on deep dives into characters or magic, this may not be the best fit for you.

Recommendation: Stick A MAGIC FIERCE AND BRIGHT on your borrow someday list, though if you’re itching for some action/adventure this summer, bump it several spots higher. This book excels at keeping the plot moving though the magic-induced post-apocalypse with serviceable characters and a protagonist who is determined to find and keep her remaining family members alive.

Extras: Author Chat with Hemant Nayak

It’s the Librarian’s Fault! How the public library violently made me fall in love with reading and become a writer, a guest post by Hemant Nayak

#hemant nayak #a magic fierce and bright #book reviews #fantasy #action/adventure #post apocalyptic

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bookaddict24-7 · 2 months

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(New Young Adult Releases Coming Out Today! (July 9th, 2024)

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Have I missed any new Young Adult releases? Have you added any of these books to your TBR? Let me know!

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New Releases:

A Magic Fierce & Bright by Hemant Nayak

Beneath These Cursed Stars by Lexi Ryan

Hearts Overboard by Becky Dean

Unbecoming by Seema Yasmin

It's Only A Game by Kelsea Yu

How to Die Famous by Benjamin Dean

New Sequels:

Heir Apparently (The Prince & The Apocalypse #2) by Kara McDowell

The Darkness Within Us (The Shadows Between Us #2) by Tricia Levenseller

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Happy reading!

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donmarcojuande · 1 year

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Sharmila Tagore in Nayak (The Hero, 1966)

#sharmila tagore #beautiful women #satyajit ray #indian cinema #bengali #nayak

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undercoverbisexualfrog · 20 days

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INFECTION AU - False Demodragon Disease Survivors Infected Cured Immune Unknown Part 1

Masterpost

Leonardo is doing all he can to keep his two remaining brothers safe. He has been keeping a journal to document the disease. He failed Michelangelo and Raphael already. He never will again.

Raphael sacrificed himself to save his brothers when they were cornered by Bradford. He is currently at Stage 4 of the disease, nearing 5. He continues to attack anyone in sight, with the exception of Michelangelo.

Donatello is tired. He is working in the lab alongside Stockman and Zeck. He knows that curing victims is possible, but finding the necessary resources is difficult. He spends almost every second creating a cure, but the virus is starting to mutate.

Michelangelo is the first to be cured. He was at Stage 2, but is now recovering. He still has blackened eyes and sharp teeth. He is aggressive but no where near as aggressive as the infected, however he tends to lash out. Most of the other survivors don't trust him, other than his brothers and Xever, who was also cured. Leonardo never leaves him alone anymore.

April knows that if she was to get infected, it would be the bridge between mutants and humans. She barely leaves the survivor hideout.

Casey is immune to the disease due to being human. While he's thankful for this, he wishes he could do more to protect his friends. He and April helped most of the humans of New York evacuate. Those who stayed are fools.

Karai and Shinigami live away from the other survivors. They reside in the Foot Clan lair, where their human soldiers guard them. Neither trusts anyone other than each other. Shinigami already cured Karai once though magic. And it took all her energy to do it. She knows she wouldn't be able to again. Unlike Michelangelo and Xever, Karai has no symptoms of the disease leftover due to being cured through magic.

Tiger Claw was a fool. Before his infection, he and the rest of Shredder's Foot Clan allied themselves with the turtles. The tiger was infected while fighting, trying to make up for summoning Kavaxas by defending the survivors every chance he got. He is now at Stage 3.

Chris Bradford is patient 0. While the virus didn't activate until Kavaxas was defeated, it still lay dormant in Bradford. He is at Stage 5. If you see him, you're already dead.

Xever Montes was cured from Stage 3. He was unknowingly infected from the moment he went with Bradford on the mission for the Kuro Kabuto. He is currently the third and last to be cured, however he has partly formed horns and wings and is still extremely aggressive. He is still recovering and other than Yasmin (OC) and Michelangelo, no one trusts him, especially since he was at Stage 3. Not that he blames them. He feels something is off He feels great.

Baxter Stockman works with Donatello and Zeck in the lab, searching for a cure. He's terrified. He hasn't stepped foot outside of the shelter since he first arrived there. He knows the virus is mutating. He and Donatello have agreed not to tell anyone that information in fear of making them panic more. Not even Zeck, their fellow lab mate, knows of this.

Anton Zeck and Ivan Steranko have always been together. All it took was one moment for everything to go to shit. Anton mourns his lover more than anything, promising to help him. He spends his time in the lab with Donatello and Stockman, who haven't told him of the virus mutating. This is to protect his already deteriorating mental state. Ivan is at Stage 3, nearing 4. So far every encounter with him has left injury.

Yasmin Nayak (OC) is one of the foolish humans who didn't escape earlier. She knows she should have, but her only friend, Xever, was infected. She couldn't bring herself to leave. Before Xever was cured, she spent every waking moment looking for him. Now that he finally is cured, she spends her time helping with his recovery.

The Mighty Mutanimals have not been seen since the virus began and are presumed infected.

Alopex searches for refuge. Since she can no longer sense Tiger Claw, she believes she is one of, if not the last remaining mutant.

The Shredder is dead. Infected yes, but was permanently killed when he took Kavaxas back to the Netherworld.

Ask Me Stuff!

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mahi-wayy · 2 months

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𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐓? | ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟ sʜᴇᴋʜᴀʀ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : Daniel Shekhar x Fem!Oc

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ : Bheemla Nayak

ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ : 2.08k

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs : Danny and his lack of patience, him being annoyed, women being MOTHERS, humiliation, ego war, strangling, tiny bit of violence, cursing, a almost (?) cat fight.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 men start a quarrle, women announce a war.

ᴀ/ɴ : the writer in me isn't dead just yet :) also this is not proofread.

_________________

Daniel Shekhar was pissed off. It was god knows what hour of the night and here he was sitting on a bench of a police station of a village because he retaliated against his own disrespect.

The mere auras of the people around him was infuriatingly familiar, just the way they looked at him made him hundred percent sure he was being analysed.

How strong is he? Can he overpower most of them? Can he beat their SI in an out and out tussle? What gave him this attitude? Who does he think he is? He is no better than a small bandit or outlaw.

Yeah they weren't as subtle with the looks and thoughts as they thought. He grew up with a father whose only job was to either provoke him to do something or berate him or take out his anger on him, he knew better than anyone to read people.

That doesn't mean however that he is okay with this whole bullshit. He was swinging the whole bench back and forth, it wasn't that heavy anyways, he was sure even she could bench press it.

He stops when his phone rings and of course he is denied to have it, why did he even try, choosing to simply scoff and turn his head away as the police lose their mind over his contact list.

He is a little surprised she hasn't called him yet, they talked in the afternoon and she isn't the kind to not call and give him an earful for not calling or texting or ask Balaji to let her know about them especially when he is supposed to be travelling.

As if God heard him, his phone rang again.

“Ragini Nair?”

Think of the pretty devil, he relishes in the way the mere mention of her name seems to weigh down the whole room. God he loved her.

“Don't worry about that, that's my wife.”

He wants to laugh with the way the man in front of him reacts, eyes widening ever so slowly in realisation. He wonders if few of them would faint if his father was mentioned, maybe? he wasn't all that sure.

He decides to indulge in thinking of her as the people around him slowly realise just who they have disrespected.

Ragini Nair, currently his wife of two years and the second in line to take over his father's place in his party, no matter how much the old man didn't like it.

The reason for the sudden silence was probably because she was one of the most influential people in all of Telangana.

He remembers meeting her for the first time and almost chuckles out loud, he was home during a break from his duty when his father introduced him to her as his future secretary when he takes over the politics, yeah that was not happening anyways.

She was fascinating, the daughter of a former IG of the state and an ex-officer herself , she was just unlucky enough to suffer a shoulder injury which made her quit just after three years of service.

Falling for her wasn't that hard, he didn't even realise when he started loving her. She wrote to him or called him from time to time when he was on duty leading them to grow close. His father too wasn't against them, she brought a political strength and quite some influential connections with her.

They got married a year before he decided to stay home full time. The house needed a man, as his father said and he needed his love.

She was an interesting human to everyone, quiet most of the time but wasn't afraid to speak out when needed, had more smarts than the people present in a room at a given moment and an insanely good political mind.

The drawback in her according to many people and his father was the anger, her temper rivalled his own if not worse than his. She was impulsive and unpredictable for that time period going as far as having a violent streak in her just like he did.

In all she was not invented here, even by him because the riot she would cause, as entertaining as it would be, would be a bigger mess to clean up and he was in no mood for a lecture or taunts from his father.

His thoughts break when the SI walks out of station, calling someone and from what he hears most probably a senior. He really wants to snicker as he hears him talk about the contacts in his phone.

“Give him and his driver their phone back.”

He raises a brow taking his phone before speaking to the same constable the SI-Bheemla Nayak-spoke too.

“Don't give him his back, he will just call people and cause unnecessary drama for you all.”

“Sir, come and sit inside the cabin please.”

“Huh?”

He heard Nayak just fine. He was just petty.

“Please.” The police officer greeted and he agreed, standing up to his full height, towering over most of the people in the room as he followed the man in charge into his cabin.

The conversation that followed pissed him off more, what the fuck does he mean he would be in jail for ten days. He has to be home by tomorrow evening for his anniversary at any cost.

They quarrel again of course, with the kind of personalities they had it wasn't surprising neither was the gun he pulled out.

“Ok. Sit down, let's talk this out. Please.”

When he says that it wasn't out of fear of the weapon he means it, he has seen her use her toys like this before and he was in the army. They were pretty much normal stuff but what rattled him was the guts Nayak had.

He might have to take another route for this one.

For minutes he just thinks as the officer passes him his phone to call the lawyer. He has messages from her, expected enough.

It takes him a few minutes but he does get an idea, thanks to his alcoholic streak and the slow thumping headache he is able to act convincingly in pain for Nayak to open a bottle of sealed alcohol which of course he shoots on his phone.

He was sipping the drink, relishing in himself before a commotion was heard from outside. Like women arguing and he curses, why does no one listen to him here.

Bheemla and him both step out of the cabin together and he recognizes her at first glance. She was standing with her back to him, hair in a messy bun, dressed in a saree. Her bangle clad hand twisting the hand of a constable behind his back, the same man who stepped on his veshit.

Oh well, fuck around and find out he guess.

“You can't touch a hair on me according to the law so keep this hand to yourself.” She growls before pushing the constable away and turning to them.

A natural smile falls on his lips, his muscles loosening as she looks at him.

“You should've called me the moment you got your phone back.” She said.

“Well I know Balaji is a snitch.”

He replied, making her roll her eyes before she turned her glare to the man standing a foot in front of him, walking forward until she was face-to-face with the SI incharge.

“Arresting someone doesn't give you the right to rip apart their respect. If you can't keep your constables in check then take this uniform and burn it.” She says and he can sense the people tensing around him.

The SI glares past her to the constable before he nods his head.

“Right, my fault in that but your husband started hitting officers and he was carrying liquor. It's not a bailable crime. He was to take the sentence.”

“Whoever asked you about the bail and if I snatch a pillow from under your head and throw you on the ground then we will see who you hit and who you respect.”

There was a silence as either of the parties refused to back out, in the end Nayak backed away, turning on his heels and going back into the cabin. Danny moves to the side to give him space, a mock gesture before he looks up and his eyes meet with his wife who clearly knew that he has something up his sleeve.

–

A ten day fast was a little more than what he signed up for but oh well he was petty little shit and he would rather die than give up.

The first person he noticed after stepping out was the woman sitting in the passenger seat of the car, dressed if she was coming directly from a meeting with some news channel or something and he widened in realisation as a devilish grin spread on his lips.

“So how's the breaking news headlines?” He asks as he gets in the car.

“Like someone gave out a video of Nayak's doom.” She said with a matching smirk as they drove off. God he loved her so much.

—

“Even I'm sad you're getting suspended lady but kings at war often cause collateral damage.” He spoke and genuinely that was exactly what that lady constable was, a collateral damage. He had no personal grudge with her, in fact she was probably the only one he was neutral about in that police station.

The shirt-pant clad female sitting on the bonnet, which he was standing on by the way, of his car with legs crossed didn't seem to think anything about the constable. Well until the said officer spat in his direction.

Bad move.

“Ayeee!”

He has to act fast and grab Ragini, pulling her making her claw-like hand stop just a inch away from the female constable's neck.

“Hey!! What are you looking to get going before she kills her!” He says to the constable who tugs away the lady officer.

“Why on the ground? Spit on his face.”

This time she slipped away and he turned his face away for a second as she kicked the man in the guts before grabbing him by his neck and choking him.

“What did you just say?” She growls and before he can think of anything another feminine voice speaks up.

“He said your husband deserves to be spat at.”

His jaw sets in place as he and she both turn to the source of sound to find Nayak's wife-Sugna was standing there with her hands crossed over her chest.

Danny rolls his eyes leaning back against the roof of the car as Ragini lets the man go and steps towards the woman in the saree.

“And you would be?”

“Sugna.”

Wow this is about to get so messy.

The ladies engage in a glare contest as he watches that was until Nayak stepped out and that made him straighten up. Jumping down from the bonnet to go stand beside his wife just like the officer did.

Look, they were so immersed in this that neither of them noticed a rock thrown his way which was thankfully caught by the police officer.

While he was still processing the man saving him, Ragini acted much faster, snatching the rock from the SI herself and hurling it back at the boy who threw it his way.

It almost hits the young man if not for the people around him pulling him away.

“Hey!!”

Ragini stumbles a bit as Sugna turns her around with a jerk to slap her only for his woman to grab her hand and twist it down. The ex officer goes to hit the officer's wife but the woman grabs her hand.

“Let her go.” He raises his brow as Nayak keeps a hand on his wife's shoulder.

“Let go darling, you'll end up hurting her.”

He says pressing a hand to his love's lower back, the women both stubborn than their male counterparts stay locked for a solid minute more before they let each other go.

She grabs his hand, Sugna hands Nayak the keys, both the women still locked in a heated stare before they tug their men and turn in opposite directions.

“Danny…”

“Nayak…”

“It's an all out war.”

“The battle is done, it's time for war.”

The heated gazes of the ladies find each other again as Ragini opens the passenger door and Sugna climbs on the back behind her husband.

“Don't you dare loose.”

______

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @vijayasena @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @ahamasmiyodhah @toomanyfanficsbruh

#danny shekhar #danny shekhar x reader #danny shekhar x oc #danny shekhar x fem!oc #daniel shekhar x reader #daniel shekhar x oc #daniel shekhar x fem!oc #daniel shekhar #bheemla nayak #bheemla nayak fanfic #rana daggubati #rana daggubati fanfic #south indian fanfic

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allari-ammayi · 1 year

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PLEASEEE I NEEEED PART 2 TO THE BHALLA FIC RN 🙌🙌🙌

Wife | Pt.2 《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! OC☆

Synopsis: Pooja and Bhallaladeva have been married for three months, but after their wedding ceremony came to an end, Pooja hasn't seen him or heard of him since. It's not like she's his first wife she likely won't be his last- is what she thinks. But when Bhallaladeva sends a servant to summon Pooja to his quarters late one night, Pooja hopes to fulfil their unstarted martial duties, instead, Bhalla requests that Pooja do something else for him. Something Pooja never expected to hear from the ruthless king of Mahismati. 《Pt. 2, 2.4k Words》

Note: There will probably be maybe two more parts to this story lol. This is the OC version of this fic. If you would like to read the Y/n version, it will be available on my Y/n masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

She stepped inside and gulped. His room was kind of how she imagined it. It was wide, grand, open and nothing like hers. Pooja’s room was grand too, of course, being one of the wives of the king, but compared to the king’s room, it felt like a children's play area.

Pooja stepped forward, examining every inch of the room, her anklets making music with every step she took. But the most important question lay unanswered. Where was Bhalla? The main reason Pooja traveled halfway across the palace at one in the morning for?

Pooja crossed her arms behind her and looked around, admiring the portraits and the statues. They were portraits of him, one of his mother, and of previous kings. But none of his brother or any of his wives.

But one particular portrait caught her eyes. Or rather, the fact that it was covered up with a massive velvet cloth.

What was Bhalla hiding under there?

Pooja stepped towards the portrait, her anklets notifying every other living thing nearby of her movement but right as she reached for the velvet cloth, the sound of a voice made her stomach drop.

“Here.” Said low, breathy voice. Pooja flinched, instantly drawing her hand away from the covered portrait and span around to face the source of the voice. What she saw made Pooja’s heart jump and her stomach summersault.

On his mighty grand bed, lay Bhalladeva.

The king.

The warrior.

The ruler.

Her husband.

Like his voice, Bhallaladeva was breathing heavily and fast, reaching an arm out for Pooja who was unsure of what to do.

Upon stepping closer to him, Pooja began getting worried. Bhalla’s face was covered in tiny droplets of sweat, his breathing was heavy and his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate.

Pooja gasped at the helpless form of the king and brought her hands to her lips.

“Your- Your Majesty-!” Pooja began, unsure of what to call him. Pooja’s use of ‘Your Majesty caused a tiny flinch to escape Bhalla’s body.

Should she acknowledge their marriage and the sacred thread tied around her neck by Bhalla and call him ‘Bhalla’?

Or was was more fitting to call him ‘Bhallaladeva’ to please his massive ego and not seem overly friendly?

Or was she supposed to be his quiet submissive wife and refer to him as his majesty?

Pooja gulped and quickly looked around while Bhalla continued breathing rapidly in a feverish way.

“Don’t- Don’t worry Your Majesty! I’ll-” With the way Bhalla flinched as she called him ‘Your Majesty’, Pooja was internally face-palming herself. Pooja hated how she kept stumbling over her words.

Way to make a great first impression, she thought as she slowly began panicking.

Pooja noticed how Bhalla could barely keep his eyes open as they kept drooping and he struggled to breath normally.

“I’ll call a healer-!” Just as Pooja turned around to sprint away to fetch a healer, Bhalla’s voice stopped her yet once again.

“No-!” He said. Pooja couldn’t tell if he was shouting or simply in pain because the moment she turned around, she saw him painfully clutching his heart while he winced in pain.

“But-”

“No. I don’t need a physician right now.” Bhalla said, his pain starting to worsen as he raked his fingers through his dark curly locks. Pooja gulped, unconvinced but not willing to disobey his Majesty’s orders.

“Then… Why was I summoned here, Your majesty?”

Bhalla pat the empty space next to him on the bed, confusing Pooja.

What did he want her to do? Clean the bed sheets? Dust it? Was the dust causing him to go all haywire like this?

Pooja, still confused, awkwardly moved towards the king and bent down. She looked at the king, who looked back at her before she looked down at the spot when he was patting.

Pooja began patting and sweeping aswell with her hand, brushing the non-existenct specks of dust off the edge of the bed, confidently.

When she finished, she looked at the king, hoping to see an impressed face at her brillinat cleaning abilities, only to be met with a confused look from the king.

“What’re you doing?” Bhalla croaked out.

“I was dusting.” Pooja replied, impressively. Bhalla’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“...Why?” Bhalla said, after a slow moment of consideration, seemingly forgetting his pain in the confusion.

“Because… Well, because Your Majesty-” Bhalla flinched ever so slightly as Pooja referred to him as ‘Your Majesty’, “-asked me to.” Pooja said, in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving Bhalla speechless. Bhalla’s lack of words left Pooja worried out of her mind.

Had she not cleaned enough? Or did she do it wrong?

Pooja was practically losing her mind over what Bhalla would do to her if she acted incorrectly.

Would he kill her? Posion her? Torutre her? Publically behead her?

Thoughts like those ran through Pooja’s mind and each thought was more treacherous than the one before. In the flurry of worry, Pooja stood up suddenly, knocking over a golden water goblet in the process and panicked further at the noise it made.

Bhalla was undisturbed by the goblet, he genuinely couldn’t care less about it. Instead, his energy was taken upp by a small smile gracing his lips at Pooja’s antics. The sound og the falling goblet masked the tiny chuckle that escaped Bhalla’s lips.

Suddenly, as if catching himself in a horrid act, Bhalla quickly wiped his smile right off, and replaced it with a simple calm face.

Pooja looked at the fallen ghoblet and back at Bhalla, misreading his calmness for anger.

“M-Maybe it would be best if I fetched a physician and left Your Majesty alone-” Pooja kept stumbling over her words, her voice clearly laced with tension and fear, and when she turned around suddenly, Bhalla’s voice stopped her once more.

“No.” He didn’t shout this time, he was calm as if suppressing his quick breath and his heavy voice. As if he was actually trying to be soft with her. As if she was a fragile little bird that he didn’t want to harm.

Pooja stopped and looked over at him, he was patting the empty spot next to him again.

“I meant stay with me,” He said, and under his moustach, Pooja failed to spot the tiniest and almost invisible smile curling at the corner of his lips, “Not- Not dust the bed,”

“Ohhh,” Pooja said, nodding her head slowly in understanding. She slowly and cautiously advanding towards the king and carefully sat next to his flat body.

“Stay with me.” Bhalla said, softly, allowing himself to close his eyes and he turned his head to feel Pooja’s touch through the fabric of her voni. “Just for a while…”

Pooja stiffened, having never expected something like this from the king. Bhalla’s voice made Pooja think it almost sounded like love, but she shook the thought off quickly. She remembered the words of the other wives.

Bhalla is incapable of love. Giving it or receiving it.

This wasn’t love, Pooja told herself, when another question popped up.

What happened to the king?

And another one.

Why did he need her to stay with him?

And another one, the one Pooja was most curious about.

Why her?

The answer to that question seemed simple. He wanted to see his latest wife, so he could cross it off on his to-do list and not bother about her ever again till her funeral. That was the only possible reason… Right?

Something in the back of Pooja’s mind told her that it wasn’t. Her curiosity getting a hold of her, Pooja gulped and let her first question out.

“Are- Are you okay?” Pooja mentally face-palmed at the way this question was phrased.

It seemed too formal and yet informal at the same time. How was that even possible!?

“Now I am,” Bhalla said, his voice musch less breathy like before, his chest raising and falling at a normal pace rather than rapidly like before. “Stay with me.” Bhalla’s soft voice and calm demenor, contrary to his previous aura, surprised Pooja.

It took her a few minutes to realise she was there to calm Bhalla down, but she was unsure how. She could just sit there like he said, till he fell asleep, but no.

Pooja could tell that Bhalla was still agitated, sure not as much as he was when she walked in, but he was still breathing pretty heavy and sweating like crazy.

Pooja looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to help Bhalla and with each little thing she saw, the easier this task became. Now came time for execution.

Pooja looked down at her soft voni and without a second thought, ripped a large piece off.

She picked up the fallen goblet, filled it with water from the vase on the bed side table and dipped the ripped section of the voni into the water.

She gave it a good dunk, pulled it out and squeed the excess water out before she folded it up neatly and looked over at Bhalla. With a gulp and hesitant shaky hands, she wiped the sweat off his face with the cloth.

Bhalla practically melted into Pooja’s voni as he let out a sigh of relief as the cold water caressed his skin. Pooja gave the voni another dunk, squeezed it one more time and wiped only the top of Bhalla’s chest before she gave it one last dunk, squeezed and folded it and placed it on his forehead.

Carefully lifting herself off the bed, Pooja sprinted towards the nearest widow and with a great push, she opened it, letting the cool breeze open to cool Bhalla down. The rust on the windows told her that they hadn’t been opened in a long time.

Pooja ran back to Bhalla, who had stopped sweating but was still squirming around in unease. Pooja looked around to see if there was anything she could do to stop that and put an end to his uneasiness, till she came to a conclusion that there was only one thing she could do.

Show him a motherly kind of love.

Sure, Pooja was told that Bhalla couldn’t feel love, or so she thought, but it was worth a try. She sat back down, and after careful consideration, ran her fingers through Bhalla’s raven dark locks until she had a hold of his head. She scooped his head up and placed it on her lap.

Bhalla opened his eyes slightly to see what Pooja was doing, but when he heard her voice the very next second, he closed his eyes. Pooja closed her eyes and started humming a tune.

A tune that her mother sang to her as a kis. A tune that every mother likely sang to their kids. Pooja brushed Bhalla’s hair back and off his faceand remembered a lullaby.

“Lali, Lali, Lali Lali.” Pooja began, her nervous voice nowhere in sight, now replaced by a soft sing-song voice, “Vatapatrasayiki Varahala lali,” Bhalla closed his eyes fully now, his chest’s constantly movement slowling down with every word Pooja sang. “Rajivanetruniki ratanala lali.” Bhalla’s previously tense body softened down instantly like hard butter melting in the hot sun. “Lali, Lali, Lali, Lali,” Pooja carresed the side of Bhalla’s face as she sang the lullaby, his conciousness slowly drifting away with every verse she sang as he eventually returned to a peaceful slumber.

When Bhalla had fully gone back to sleep, Pooja carefully picked his head up, dragged over a pillow and gently placed him down. She saw his silk sheets flayed all over the bed and pulled them up before tucking him in as if he was just an innocnet little child, rather than the feared, ruthless leader of Mahismati.

When Bhalla was tucked in and peacefully sleeping away, Pooja looked down at his features and wondered what she was supposed to do now? Kiss him on the forehead and leave?

Maybe it was a bit too soon, she thought, considering this was the first time they even spoke to each other. But then again, she thought, she was his wife, and as a wife, kissing isn’t something to be neglected.

Impulsively, Pooja bent her head down and pecked Bhalla on the forehead before bringing her nails to her lips in shyness and spriting out of the room. Even if Bhalla was not fond of kisses, he wouldn’t know, he was asleep, Pooja told herself.

She carefully shut the doors to the room close to not wake him up and trotted off to her very own room, practically prancing, dancing, and skipping as she went, her excitement lighting up the cold dark hallways.

When Bhalla heard the doors to his room close shut, she slowly peeled his eyes open and looked up at the ceiling. Despite the windows being open and Pooja’s damp voni on his forehead, Bhalla’s face burnt like fire as he grazed his finger over the spot Pooja had kissed him.

Pooja hummed the tune of the lullaby to herself as she skipped through the hallways, her stomach unable to stay at ease with the butterflies eurpting through them.

Today was a good day, she thought, a productive one. She had talked to the king- or rather, her husband, for the first time. She sang him a lullaby and tucked him into bed.

Sometimes the simplest answers give the most effective results.

She even figured out what she would need to do from now one if she was ever called back.

Take his head into her lap, sing to him, calm him down and tuck him into bed.

Simple.

Though it seemed very unlikely that she would ever be called back.

But the voices of the other wives came into Pooja’s mind. The king never spoke to any of his wives unless it’s extremely important. He has no business with them and even if he does, he always only sends a servant.

This thought caused Pooja to stop and think.

True.

Why did the king need her if he never talked to his wives?

This unanswered questions left Pooja thinking about all the other unanswered questions.

Such as why was he the way he was when Pooja first entered the room?

Was it a medical condition?

Or was it the result of traumatic events in his past?

And if so, what exactly was that traumatic past?

Why did Bhalla need someone her to calm him down?

Why not one of his more experienced wives who knew more about him than she did?

And the most curious.

What lay behind the velvet cloth?