The first light of dawn slipped like molten gold through the jali windows of Rajgarh's palace, casting latticed shadows across marble floors that had seen coronations, funerals, betrayals, and vows spoken through clenched teeth. The drums of reveille echoed faintly from the distant barracks, rolling like thunder beneath the sky, waking elephants, horses, and men… and waking destiny itself.
Today was the day of The General Oath.
The day when swords would rise, foreheads would touch steel, and the army of Rajgarh would swear loyalty — not merely to a crown — but to a regency, to a future yet uncertain, and to a king whose strength was fading like a lamp at the last stretch of oil.
And Anushka Devi — Crown Princess of Rajgarh and daughter of the royal house of Bengal — would stand among them again.
Even if she could barely keep down water.
Even if dizziness came in silent waves.
Even if her heart carried a secret that could change thrones, alliances, and fates.
She sat before her mirror now.
Not the gilded reflection of vanity — but the war-paint mirror of queens.
Her maid Meera fastened the strings of pearls around her neck, watching her carefully. There was a pallor beneath Anushka's radiance, yet the fire in her eyes remained unbroken.
"You should rest, Yuvrani-sa," Meera whispered, unable to contain her worry.
Anushka smiled faintly.
"Queens rest when their kingdoms do, Meera. Today Rajgarh does not rest."
She lifted the crimson veil and fixed it with steady hands. Not trembling. Not betraying the storm within. Her fingers brushed the sindoor streak at her hairline — the mark of destiny — and she inhaled.
The world steadied.
She stood.
The nausea retreated like a coward before battle.
But deep within her mind another thought spoke quietly, steadily, dangerously:
I must leave for Bengal before the monsoons… before four moons pass… before anyone can see what grows beneath my heart.
Her child.Her secret.Her future not yet claimed by the court.
She placed a hand lightly against her abdomen — still flat, still hidden beneath silk and duty — and then stepped out into the corridor where history waited.
The Gathering of Steel
The great training courtyard spread beneath the palace like an ocean of bronze and scarlet. Rank upon rank of soldiers filled it — spearmen, cavalrymen, gunners trained in both traditional cannons and British rifles — uniforms flashing with the crest of the Sun Banner of Rajgarh.
Elephants stood at the edges draped in embroidered armor. The scent of oil, dust, incense, and sweat mingled in the wind. Conch-shells cried out in long, echoing notes as priests sprinkled consecrated water on the assembled arms.
At the center, raised above them all, stood Yuvraj Aditya Pratap Singh, the eldest son — Armed General — sword at his hip, presence like a mountain. His armor gleamed white and gold, the insignia of the Senapati catching the dawn.
Beside him stood Samrat Veer Singh, Crown Prince, wrapped in royal purple, expression calm yet carved from storm-clouds.
Between them, silent as the axis of the world, the Queen Regent Aishvarya Devi watched, emerald silks trailing like forest shadows. Her gaze measured every soldier, every noble, every breath of wind.
Anushka entered the courtyard then.
Every head turned.
For she did not walk — she arrived.
She was the flame of Bengal wrapped in red silk, gold anklets chiming softly, the proud line of her shoulders betraying neither the lingering sickness in her body nor the fear that gnawed at her future. Only Samrat Veer Singh recognized the slight tremor she hid… and the steel behind it.
He moved toward her without thinking.
"You should not have come," he murmured. "You were unwell."
"And miss the binding of swords and destiny?" she replied softly. "I am Yuvrani of Rajgarh. I will stand."
Their eyes locked.
Unspoken worry.
Unspoken warmth.
Unspoken longing.
And beneath it, her thought whispered again:
Before long… I must leave you.
His fingers brushed hers briefly — the briefest rebellion against court decorum — and then duty pulled them apart.
The Maharaja Speaks — and Stumbles
The Maharaja Virendra Dev Raj was brought forth in his gilded palanquin, frailer now, the illness hidden but not conquered. The army went to one knee like a single living creature.
He raised his hand.
"My sons," he said, voice carrying even in weakness, "and my brave children of Rajgarh… today you swear anew your rajya-dharma — the sacred duty to throne and people."
He broke to cough.
A ripple of fear trembled through those gathered.
The Queen Regent's eyes flashed for a second — grief swallowed by command.
Aditya Pratap Singh stepped forward, steadying the king's arm but pretending it was ritual, not necessity.
The Maharaja breathed in and continued.
"This kingdom stands between two fires — the greed of the British Sarkar and the whispers of revolt across Hindustan. In such times, swords must not waver, and hearts must remain bound to honour."
He turned to his general-son.
"Aditya Pratap Singh… administer the oath."
The kingdom felt the shifting of power.
Not yet declared.
Yet known.
The Oath of the Generals
The generals approached first, each bearing his ancestral sword. Aditya Pratap Singh unsheathed his own — the legendary blade blessed in the Temple of Bhairav — and held it upright.
"Repeat after me," he commanded, voice cutting through the air.
"We swear by Dharma,by the sacred river,by the ashes of our ancestors,and by the blood that runs in our veins…"
Thousands of voices thundered:
"We swear!"
"…that we will guard the throne of Rajgarh,protect the Maharaja, the Queen Regent, and the Crown Prince,and obey lawful command even unto death."
Steel rang as swords touched foreheads.
Anushka watched — pride, dread, and nausea mingling within her. The sun burned hot, making her vision blur for a moment.
Stand, she told herself coldly. You are not merely woman. You are crown.
Her hand tightened on the railing.
The oath continued:
"That we will not bow to foreign greed,nor betray our land for gold or favour,nor raise arms against the innocent."
The last line struck like prophecy unspoken.
Men glanced silently at one another.
War crouched on everyone's doorstep.
The oath finished in a single earth-shaking roar:
"Rajgarh ki Jai!"
The elephants trumpeted in answer. Conches blared. The drums rolled like thunder across the plains.
Anushka's Poise — and Pain
The sound crashed over her in waves.
The heat intensified.
Her pulse thundered behind her eyes.
Samrat Veer Singh's gaze snapped toward her immediately — he knew even the smallest tremor of her hand now. He broke rank just a hair's breadth, enough to murmur:
"Come sit—"
"No," she whispered through clenched teeth. "If I fall today, Veer, let it be in battle — not from weakness."
He looked at her deeply.
Then nodded once — not as husband alone — but as one sovereign acknowledging another.
She held.
But inside, she was counting moons.
Four months. My belly will betray me.
Four months. Courtiers will smell blood in water.
Four months — and the child of Bengal and Rajgarh will become pawn, or prize… or target.
So in that burning courtyard, as drums shook the earth and soldiers knelt in sworn brotherhood, Anushka Devi made her private decision.
I will go to Bengal.
Quietly.
Before anyone knows.
Not to abandon love.
Not to run from duty.
But to protect the life no one yet knew existed.
"I will return," she promised silently. "But now… now I must become shadow."
An Audience of Eyes
The Queen Regent watched her.
Every flicker of expression.
Every shade of pallor.
Every too-steady breath.
Her suspicion sharpened into near-certainty.
Yet she said nothing.
Not out of cruelty.
But because she remembered how it felt — that fragile, trembling joy in her own youth when life stirred within her body and the world outside remained full of daggers.
Across the courtyard, the Queen Consort Lalima Devi watched as well — but her eyes were full of hurt pride and complicated love. She envied Anushka's influence yet admired her strength. Court politics did not make simple hearts.
The nobles whispered.
"Yuvrani-sa is pale."
"She grows thinner."
"She did not attend the Council."
"She is back at duty today… brave girl…"
"…or schemer," another murmured.
Poison dripped slow in palaces.
And someone — no one knew who — smiled faintly in the shadows.
After the Oath — The Private Storm
When it was done, when generals were dismissed and soldiers returned to barracks, when incense dissipated and drums fell silent, Anushka finally allowed herself to sit in the shaded pavilion.
Her hands shook uncontrollably.
Veer was at her side before she could protest.
"You are burning," he whispered, touching her wrist.
"It is only the sun," she insisted.
"It is not."
Their eyes locked — so much unsaid.
Tell him.
Her heart begged her.
Tell him about the child. Tell him that his future breathes already beneath your ribs. Tell him before the world intrudes.
Her lips parted.
Then Bishan the steward approached with news, bowing deeply:
"Yuvraj-sa, Queen Regent summons the council at dusk."
And the moment was gone.
Anushka swallowed the words.
The secret remained hers alone.
Night Confession — to Herself
That night she stood on the terrace, wind tearing through her veil, moonlight silvering the world below. The city slept like a tired tiger. Far away the British cantonment lamps glowed like foreign stars on Indian soil.
She placed both hands over her abdomen and whispered:
"In four moons I must be gone."
Bengal called to her — the wide river, the smell of rain, the wise women who guarded old secrets, free from palace politics and British eyes. There she could hide. There she could protect this small ember of life until it was strong enough to face the world.
Her throat tightened.
"I will leave you, Veer… but only for a while."
The wind carried away her tears before anyone could see.
Behind her, unseen, someone watched from shadow — expression unreadable.
Closing of the Chapter
So the day of The General Oath passed into history — recorded by scribes in golden ink, sung by bards in bazaars — a day of drums, steel, loyalty, and strained smiles.
But history does not always write the truths that lie beneath silk.
No scripture marked:
the tremor in Anushka's hand,
the secret she guarded fiercely beneath her heart,
the Queen Regent's sharpened intuition,
the Crown Prince's unspoken fear,
or the quiet decision that would change kingdoms:
The Crown Princess would leave Rajgarh.