Hastinapura stood unchanged.

The city was still alive with the constant hum of voices, the rhythmic beat of soldiers training in the courtyards, the scent of burning oil lamps mixed with the distant fragrance of blooming marigolds. But for all its grandeur, the palace felt different.

Perhaps it was because they had been gone.

Or perhaps because she had changed.

Rhea exhaled as she walked past the towering gates, dust clinging to the hem of her cloak. There was no grand welcome. No fanfare. Only waiting.

But then again, that was expected.

Because Duryodhana was not in Hastinapura.

Neither was Karna.

And that was a far more interesting development.

When the dust of the Panchala affair had barely settled, Karna had immediately left for Anga. No hesitation, no delays. Straight to his kingdom, straight to meet his newborn child.

A son.

Duryodhana had left with him, Ashwatthama in tow, riding straight from Panchala to Anga with barely a word.

Rhea hadn't seen them leave. She had left first.

She had gone where she was needed—to Draupadi.

And now she had returned.

Alone.

And the moment she stepped into the palace, she knew she would not go unnoticed.

Because waiting for her, arms folded and smirking like a man who had been expecting something interesting to happen, was Dushasana.



"Look who finally remembered where home is," Dushasana drawled, stepping into her path.

Rhea didn't slow down. "Oh, good, you're still here. I was afraid you'd be off terrorizing some unfortunate servant girl."

Dushasana let out a bark of laughter. "I should have known you'd return with that sharp tongue intact."

"And I should have known you'd be standing here, pretending to do something important."

Dushasana grinned. "Oh, but this is important. You are important, aren't you? After all, you went missing for quite some time."

Rhea arched a brow. "Missing? I don't recall being lost."

"Ah, then you just ignored us." He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. "You wound me, Rhea."

Rhea sighed. "If only I had a sharper blade."

Dushasana chuckled but didn't move out of her way. His smirk remained, but his eyes—they were watching. Measuring.

"You left," he said casually. "Duryodhana left. Karna left. Ashwatthama left. It almost feels like I was the only one holding Hastinapura together."

Rhea snorted. "That explains why it's still standing by some miracle."

Dushasana grinned, but then his tone shifted—just slightly. "Tell me, then. What did you find in Panchala?"

Rhea shrugged. "A lot of fire. Some politics. And an unexpected wedding."

Dushasana leaned in slightly. "And? Any regrets?"

Rhea met his gaze. Held it. "Not a single one."

Something flashed in his eyes, but then he grinned again, stepping aside with a mock bow. "Then by all means, welcome home."

Rhea didn't thank him. She simply walked past, because she wasn't the one who needed permission to be here.

And she had bigger things to deal with.

Because Duryodhana, Karna, and Ashwatthama would be back soon.

And they would have questions.