"A wildfire cannot be caged, and neither can a woman who refuses to be tamed."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an amber glow over Indraprastha. The city was alive with the echoes of merchants calling out their wares, the distant clang of metal from blacksmiths forging weapons, and the rhythmic beats of temple bells. The grandeur of the capital was undeniable, but within the high walls of the palace, a storm brewed—one that had nothing to do with the changing seasons.

Princess Anika paced the length of her chambers, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders, strands falling loose from the intricate braid her maid had struggled to weave that morning. Her olive skin was kissed by the sun, her stance fierce, every movement laced with restless energy. She was a wildfire contained within the silk-draped walls of royalty, a force untamed, unwilling to be molded into the delicate shape her father expected of her.

Her father, Maharaja Raghunath, was a man of calculated precision. He was respected, even feared, for his unyielding sense of duty. Unlike King Veerendra of Vardhana, he was not ruthless in war but instead wielded his influence through alliances and carefully orchestrated diplomacy. He was a king who knew that power did not always come from the sword—it came from control. And control was what he sought to have over Anika.

Yet, despite his rigid ideals, Anika knew her father loved her in his own way. He saw her as his most valuable piece on the chessboard of politics, a pawn he could maneuver to secure his kingdom's future. But love, to him, was not freedom—it was responsibility. And that responsibility meant sacrificing her choices for the greater good. Her mother, Maharani Vasundhara, had once been a woman of hope and love, but over the years, she had been reduced to a shadow of her former self, her affections ignored, her dreams silenced. Yet, despite her own suffering, she had instilled in Anika a belief her father never could—that she had every right to carve her own path, to own her choices, and to never let anyone take her free will away.

Her elder brother, Rajkumar Aarav, had been her silent guardian, training her in swordsmanship when no one else would, teaching her to protect herself not just with a blade, but with her mind. He, too, had been bound by duty, but he had never let her forget that she was more than a pawn. She was a wildfire, meant to burn through chains, not be shackled by them.

Her chain of thoughts were broken when she heard meera,

"Princess, you must sit still," her handmaiden, Meera, huffed in exasperation, attempting to pin the final strand of Anika's braid into place. "You are to be married soon! What will your future husband think if he sees you storming around like a warrior instead of a bride?"

Anika rolled her eyes, twisting away from Meera's grasp. "If my husband is foolish enough to think I will be a meek, obedient bride, then I almost pity him."

Meera gasped, clutching her chest as though she had been struck. "You speak of your marriage as if it were a battle."

"Because it is." Anika crossed her arms. "Only, unlike a battlefield, I have no weapon, no strategy, and no say in the matter."

Her thoughts churned like a storm in her mind. The news of her impending marriage to Prince Dev had arrived like an arrow piercing through her peace. She had known her father would arrange a match for her—after all, she was a princess, a political piece to be played—but she had hoped, foolishly, that she would have time. Time to fight it. Time to prove she was more than just a daughter to be bartered away.

Maharaja Raghunath had other plans.

"You will wed Prince Dev," he had told her firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It is a strong match, Anika. Vardhana and Indraprastha will be untouchable together."

"And what of love, Father?" she had dared to ask. "Do I not have the right to choose who holds my heart?"

He had looked at her then, his gaze sharp, cutting. "Love is a fickle thing, child. A kingdom is built on alliances, not whims of the heart."

She had clenched her fists beneath the table that day, her nails digging into her palms. Did no one believe in love anymore?

Her father was not cruel, but he was rigid, unwavering in his beliefs. To him, women had their place in the grand design of ruling—a place behind the throne, not beside it. He valued her intelligence, her sharp wit, even the way she carried herself with the pride of a warrior, but in the end, he saw her as a piece in his political chess game.

Anika refused to be a pawn.

She had grown up defying expectations, scaling the palace walls when she was told to sit and sew, sneaking into the training grounds to learn the art of the sword when she was expected to play the veena. She had bruised and bled alongside the palace guards, earning their respect not because she was a princess, but because she fought like one of them. She was not the kind of woman who faded into the background of a king's life.

Before she could spiral further into her thoughts, the doors to her chambers burst open. Rajkumar Aarav stood at the threshold, his face thunderous.

"This is madness, Anika!" he barked. "You cannot marry for politics. You deserve love, not a throne bought with your hand!"

Anika exhaled, meeting his fury with unwavering calm. "Bhai sa—"

"No!" He strode toward her. "If you do not wish this, I will fight for you. If need be, I will find a way for you to escape."

She sighed, gripping his arm. "And what of you, brother? You are to be king soon. Your own marriage will be decided by politics. Many kingdoms watch Indraprastha, waiting for a sign of weakness. Would you have me stain our honor by running?"

Aarav clenched his jaw. "Honor be damned. You are my sister, not a bargaining chip."

She placed a hand over his, her voice gentle but firm. "Your teachings are always with me. I will not live a loveless life, Bhai sa. But I will decide what love means for me. I will update you about my life, but remember—" her eyes burned with fierce determination, "I am not just a queen to be placed beside a king. I am a "शतरानी" (Shatrani), and I know how to wield both "बल" (strength) and "बुद्धि" (Buddhi). I will not be caged."

Aarav studied her for a long moment before finally exhaling, nodding reluctantly. "Very well. But if he dares to hurt you, Di (sister)—"

Anika smirked. "Then he will know the wrath of a Shatrani."

As Aarav left, Anika turned to the window once more. Somewhere beyond those palace walls, her future awaited. But it would not define her.

She would define it.

She had also come to know of King Veerendra's views on women—how he saw them as nothing more than bearers of heirs, unworthy of any say in the affairs of the kingdom. It enraged her, the thought of being bound to a family that upheld such archaic beliefs. Yet, no one had ever spoken of Prince Dev in the same manner. Was he different? Or had he merely not yet revealed his true self? If he was like his father, if he saw women as nothing more than pawns in a game of power, then what? Would she fight, resist, break free? Or would she be forced to become everything she had sworn never to be?

If he dared to cage her, to strip her of the freedom she held so fiercely, she would shatter the bars with her own hands. She was not a woman who would bow, not a princess who would shrink into submission. If Prince Dev thought she would be just another silent queen to decorate his throne, he was gravely mistaken. She had survived a world that sought to tame her, and she would survive this too—by fire, by steel, or by her own will. If he was her enemy, she would fight him. If he sought to control her, she would break him. No man, no prince, no king, would ever decide her fate but herself.

"Why do you resist so much, Anika?" Meera asked softly, her earlier irritation replaced with quiet concern. "Prince Dev is said to be a great warrior, a noble ruler in the making. He will be kind to you."

Anika's lips pressed into a thin line. "A cage is still a cage, Meera, no matter how golden its bars are."

Meera sighed, but she said nothing more. She knew Anika well enough to understand that words would not soothe her. The wildfire in her heart would not be so easily tamed.

Anika turned to the window, her amber eyes reflecting the distant torches that lined the palace walls. Somewhere beyond those walls, her future waited—a future she had not chosen.

But if there was one thing she knew about herself, it was this:

She would never be tamed.

And if Prince Dev thought otherwise, he was in for a battle he would never forget.

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