The palace was abuzz with anticipation. Word had spread that the prince of Kashi—tall, handsome, and rumored to be as clever with words as with a sword—would soon arrive to court one of Jarasandha's daughters. The prospect of a royal match was enough to send the palace's matrons into a flurry of preparations, and even the stoic guards seemed to stand a little straighter.
Jarasandha watched the commotion from his balcony, sipping his morning milk. He found it amusing—how a single suitor could turn the palace upside down. Asti and Sumana, for their part, were less impressed. They had spent the morning devising ways to make the prince's visit memorable, most of which involved elaborate poetry recitals and, in Asti's case, a plan to quiz him on Magadha's history.
Padmavati, ever the diplomat, tried to keep the girls' mischief in check. "Remember, dignity first," she said, smoothing Asti's hair. "But a little cleverness never hurt anyone."
Sumana grinned. "We'll be perfect princesses, Mother. Until we're not."
Jarasandha laughed, his mood lighter than it had been in days. "If the prince can survive an afternoon with you two, he'll have earned my respect."
The arrival of the Kashi prince was marked by the blare of trumpets and a procession of elephants adorned in gold and crimson. The young prince, Virendra, dismounted with practiced grace, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on the royal family.
He bowed deeply. "Maharaja Jarasandha, Queen Padmavati, Princesses. It is an honor to be welcomed in Magadha."
Jarasandha studied him - a charming smile, an easy confidence, and a glint of ambition in his eyes. He recognized the type: someone who knew the value of appearances, but also the weight of expectations.
"Welcome, Prince Virendra," Jarasandha replied, matching his formality. "Magadha is always pleased to host friends from Kashi. You'll find our hospitality… memorable."
Virendra smiled, undeterred by the subtle warning. "I look forward to every moment."
The formalities gave way to a lavish feast in the great hall. Musicians played, dancers twirled, and the air was thick with the scent of saffron and rosewater. Virendra made polite conversation with Padmavati, complimented the palace, and even managed to coax a shy smile from Asti.
Sumana, however, was less easily impressed. "Tell me, Prince," she said, her tone playful, "what would you do if you were king for a day?"
Virendra didn't miss a beat. "I'd declare a festival, invite every child in the city, and let them rule the palace. Sometimes, wisdom comes from the smallest voices."
Asti clapped, delighted. "That's a good answer. But can you recite a poem?"
The prince grinned. "Only if you promise not to laugh."
He recited a verse—clumsy but earnest—about the beauty of the Ganga and the courage of queens. The court chuckled, and even Sumana softened.
Jarasandha watched the exchange, amused. He leaned toward Arya, who had been observing quietly from the side-lines. "What do you think? Is he worthy of a Magadhan princess?"
Arya's eyes sparkled. "He's clever, but not too clever. And he knows how to laugh at himself. That's rare in a prince."
Jarasandha nodded. "We'll see if he survives the next round."
After the feast, the royal family and their guest retired to the gardens. The evening air was cool, the sky streaked with orange and violet. Virendra walked with Asti and Sumana, answering their questions and dodging their playful jabs. Padmavati and Jarasandha followed at a distance, content to let the girls test their suitor.
Arya joined them, her presence as calming as the night breeze. "You're letting them choose," she observed. "That's not common among kings."
Jarasandha shrugged. "I want them to be happy. Besides, a forced alliance rarely ends well."
Arya smiled, a touch of admiration in her gaze. "You're changing more than just Magadha, you know."
He looked at her, thoughtful. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just tired of old mistakes."
As the evening wore on, a new arrival entered the garden—a woman dressed in the blue and silver of Kashi's royal house, her bearing regal and her eyes sharp as a falcon's. She introduced herself as Princess Devika, Virendra's cousin and a renowned scholar in her own right.
Padmavati greeted her warmly, and Arya's interest was instantly piqued. Devika spoke with wit and confidence, her conversation ranging from philosophy to politics to the finer points of Magadhan cuisine. Jarasandha found himself drawn to her intellect and her subtle humor.
After Devika excused herself to join the younger princesses, Arya leaned in, her voice low. "She's impressive. And unmarried."
Jarasandha raised an eyebrow. "Are you matchmaking, Arya?"
She laughed. "Just observing. Magadha could use more minds like hers."
The evening ended with music and laughter, the palace alive with possibility. As the guests retired, Padmavati caught Jarasandha's arm.
"They like him," she whispered, nodding toward the girls. "And Devika… she could be a valuable ally."
Jarasandha smiled, feeling the threads of fate weaving tighter around him. "Let's see where the night takes us."
Later, alone in his study, he reflected on the day's events. The Veda Sutra shimmered at the edge of his vision, but tonight, there were no new quests—only the quiet satisfaction of a day well played.
He thought of his daughters, their laughter echoing in the halls. Of Padmavati's wisdom, Arya's spark, and Devika's unexpected arrival. The game was growing more complex, the stakes higher, but for the first time, Jarasandha felt ready for whatever came next.
As he drifted to sleep, he wondered if this was what it meant to be king—not just to rule, but to guide, to trust, and to let the future unfold, one clever move at a time.