The morning was quiet, but there was something uneasy about it. The air felt heavier, the silence between the palace walls stretching too long, like something waiting to be spoken.

Rhea had come to Vidura expecting answers about the Lakshagraha fire, maybe even a discussion about Duryodhana's next move. Instead, she found herself staring at her uncle's carefully blank expression, knowing—**knowing—**that whatever he was about to say would be something else entirely.

Something she wouldn't like.



Vidura sat behind his desk, his fingers absently rolling the edge of a parchment between them. He studied her for a moment, long enough that Rhea's unease deepened.

"You are restless," he said finally.

Rhea exhaled sharply. "Should I not be?"

"That depends."

She frowned. "On what?"

Vidura leaned back slightly. "On whether you are prepared for the way things are about to change."

Her fingers twitched, but she forced them to remain still. "Change?"

Vidura's gaze was unreadable. "Yes."

The weight of his voice, the way he said it—she didn't like it.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table between them. "This isn't about the fire, is it?"

Vidura tilted his head slightly, considering her. "No."

Something in her stomach twisted.

Then what was this?

What was so important that even he looked hesitant to bring it up?



"You see the way the world moves, Rhea," Vidura continued, his voice quieter now. "But do you see where you stand within it?"

Her brow furrowed. "I stand nowhere. And I prefer it that way."

Vidura sighed, shaking his head. "No one stands nowhere. Eventually, everyone is placed somewhere."

A sliver of irritation sparked in her chest. "Is this another lecture about alliances and power?"

Vidura studied her for a long moment before speaking. "This is about your future."

The irritation froze.

Her future?

That was not what she had expected.

Her shoulders stiffened, an old habit, a reflex to keep from showing anything.

"My future?" she repeated, her voice deliberately even. "Why does that sound like something I should be worried about?"

Vidura exhaled slowly, his gaze sharper now. "Because for the first time, Rhea, you are no longer invisible."



There were few moments in Rhea's life where she had felt truly unprepared.

But this—this moment—was one of them.

She had spent years learning to move unseen, to never be important enough to be noticed in the grander schemes of Hastinapura. And yet, here she was—being noticed.

Her throat felt tight.

"What are you saying?" she asked, though she already feared the answer.

Vidura sighed. "There has been a suggestion. A placement, if you will."

Her hands curled into fists before she could stop them. "A placement," she echoed.

And then—her mind caught up.

Her stomach dropped.

"This is about marriage, isn't it?"



She felt strangely removed from herself, as if she were hearing someone else speak those words.

Vidura didn't confirm it outright. But he didn't deny it either.

That was worse.

That was so much worse.

Her pulse roared in her ears, a sharp contrast to the eerie calm in the room.

Marriage.

Marriage?

She had never considered it—not because she thought she would never marry, but because she had always assumed she would have time.

Time to decide. Time to want or not want. Time to say yes or no.

And now—now she was being told that someone else had already spoken for her.

She felt herself laugh, short and humorless. "You're serious."

Vidura raised a single eyebrow. "Would I waste my breath on something that was not serious?"

Her throat felt dry. "Who?"

Vidura didn't answer.

Not immediately.

Instead, he watched her, as if waiting for her to process the weight of the moment.

And that was the worst part. If it were meaningless, he would have just said the name.

But he hadn't.

Which meant it wasn't meaningless at all.



Rhea inhaled sharply, trying to force her mind into clarity. "No. No, this—this doesn't make sense. I am not a princess. I am not—"

Vidura cut her off. "You are of noble birth, Rhea. That is enough."

She swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of her tunic.

Enough for what?

For a political move? For an alliance?

For something she had no control over?

She forced herself to breathe, slow and steady. "Does he know?"

Vidura tilted his head slightly. "Ah. So you assume it is a 'he'?"

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I assume if it were a 'she,' this conversation would be far more interesting."

Vidura almost smirked. "He knows. But not in the way you think."

That was not an answer she liked.

Not at all.