Future Queen of Tarish

In this world, Abhilasha or better say Princess Alokika had turned 21. 

Having bathed, scented, and adorned, she stood by the window of the castle's second floor, the weight of the moment settled over her.

Only her dress had yet to arrive. The attendants had left her alone after marking a small black dot beneath her earlobe.

It was a paste, carefully applied with a wooden pick.

"To ward off evil, my lady," the woman had said. She spoke with devotion, her hands steady. This was her duty, her purpose. Every bride who walked toward her new life bore this mark, a shield against unseen forces that sought young brides for dark rituals.

She was cheerful, full of stories, oblivious to the turmoil within the one standing before her. She asked questions, spoke of traditions, and reminisced. There was joy in her eyes—not for the woman before her, but for the princess she believed her to be.

"This is the day I have waited for all my life," she had confessed, voice trembling. "When I was a girl, my mother told me how she once had the honor of doing this for the previous Queen. A great lady she was. And today, I stand here, fulfilling my mother's legacy."

Tears glistened in her eyes. Her pride, her emotion—it was genuine. The one standing in disguise had no language of kings and queens to respond. Had she not been a Queen, she would have embraced the woman standing before her.

Abhilasha glanced at her attendant. The woman understood her silent plea. A moment later, a jeweled box was placed before her.

She hesitated.

Would it be right to offer a gift? Would it dishonor the woman's sentiment?

A breath. Another. She reached forward and lifted a jade-green pearl necklace. It meant little to her, but to the woman before her, it would hold worth beyond its shimmer.

"This is not just a necklace," she said, her voice steady. "I won this in Srinkhala, in the deep forests of Himsthir. I never wished to part with it. But today, I do. You deserve it more than I."

The woman gasped, disbelief widening her eyes. There was no humiliation, no offense—only gratitude.

She bowed low. "Thank you, my lady! Thank you!"

"No need," the disguised bride said gently. "You are protecting me today. The future Queen of Tarish owe you."

The woman smiled, hands clasped in devotion. "You will be a great Queen. The future of Tarish. A just ruler."

Her words unsettled Abhilasha a bit. There was no answer to give, no thoughts to spare for such a claim. Soon after, the woman was led away, and Abhilasha was left alone once more.

Time stretched before her. She would not leave this chamber until nightfall. She would fast the entire day, as would the groom.

One by one, the attendants departed, until silence pressed in. She turned to the world outside the window. Every tree, every pillar, every stone bore the touch of celebration. Flowers of gold and blue adorned every surface. Marigolds wrapped around the columns and trailed from the doors in garlands meant for gods and guests alike.

The kingdom rejoiced.

Yet she struggled to believe this was her wedding day. Not hers, but Princess Alokika's.

Her stomach tightened, twisting with doubt. Thoughts whispered questions she dared not answer. She tried to silence them.

The night before, she had found solace in Alokika's words—her writings, her dreams. They had always granted her courage when uncertainty loomed. But today, even those thoughts felt distant.

She leaned against the small window, gazing at the world beyond the castle walls. People hurried through the streets, their steps laced with excitement or exhaustion.

This was the first grand celebration in years. Yet, beneath the joy, whispers traveled like the wind.

"Will Tapti lose its bloodline?" they asked. "The barbarians wait for a crack in the magic. Once they find it, we are lost."

Tapti's fate was bound to Tarish. If the ruler of Tapti fell, so too would the kingdom of Tarish.

That was the nature of power. Tapti had been forged by magic, by a woman who rose from the ocean's depths. She wed a king, and with her, fortune bloomed. Her sister Yamin did the same, giving birth to two great realms—Tapti and Yamin.

These were not ordinary lands. They were bound to the sea, their kin not just human, but creatures of the depth. Tapti had flourished once. But when its King vanished, the throne stood empty, waiting, vulnerable.

With Yamin long annexed, fear crept into hearts. If Tapti fell, all would fall. War was not yet upon them, but like the tide, it would come.

A sudden blast of trumpets shook the air.

Drums thundered. The ground trembled beneath the weight of approaching elephants. Their cries split the sky—a royal welcome to the guests of honor.

Kings and nobles arrived from lands near and far.

With each beat of the drum, her nerves coiled tighter.

What would happen now? What lay ahead?

There was no fighting fate, no unraveling the path before her. She simply turned from the window and faced her reflection in the mirror.

A cold wind slipped through the chamber, lifting the curtains before vanishing into the night.

She met her own gaze.

"Is this me?" she whispered.

No.

This was still Alokika's face. Alokika's life. Alokika's crown.

She had lived for this day, for this moment—to become the Queen of this land.

And she was merely a shadow in her place.