Dhavani did not soften at Mrinalini's words. She kept her gaze steady on him, arms folded. "Careless words can wound deeper than blades, nephew."
Mrinalini stepped between them smoothly this time.
"Let us not spoil the afternoon with unnecessary quarrels," she said calmly. "Prince Vitraketu, I have already heard about the reason for your visit. So, no need for the reminder now."
Vritraketu's jaw tightened for a heartbeat, but he covered it with a forced smile, "Since I am already here, perhaps you could show me the city? A tour from my fiancée would be most welcome."
Mrinalini hesitated only a moment.
"Alright," she said. "Let me change into something suitable for walking."
Dhavani spoke up at once. "I will come too."
Vritraketu's smile flickered. For a second, his face darkened—he had hoped for time alone with his betrothed. But Dhavani was Jarasandha's daughter, his mothers' younger sister, and even if he doesn't care about relationship hierarchy, his own father, Kamsa, had never dared openly offend Magadha or Jarasandha.
So, in the end, Vritraketu swallowed his irritation and nodded.
"Of course, Aunt. The more the merrier."
The three left the palace soon after, dressed in plain clothes to avoid attention. Mrinalini wore a simple cream saree with a light dupatta. Dhavani chose muted green. Vritraketu kept his royal silk but draped a plain shawl over his shoulders. Two guards followed at a distance, unobtrusive.
They walked first to the Kashi Vishwanath temple. Inside the temple courtyard, they joined the line for darshan. Vritraketu offered a coin and a few flowers at the lingam, muttering a quick prayer. Mrinalini and Dhavani lingered longer, hands joined, eyes closed.
When they stepped back out into the sunlight, Dhavani spoke quietly to Mrinalini. "How about you two go together? I have some business to attend."
Vritraketu's face brightened at once, thinking that this aunt of his was finally helping him.
Mrinalini, however, shook her head.
"No. Let's go together, Dhavani. I cannot leave you alone in such a huge city, especially at that place."
Vritraketu frowned slightly. "What place?"
Mrinalini did not answer him directly. She only smiled at Dhavani.
"Come."
They walked on through the winding lanes, past small shrines and open courtyards, until they reached a large dharmashala near one of the quieter ghats.
The building was long and low, its walls painted white, its roof tiled red. Pilgrims sat on the veranda eating from leaf plates. The overseer—a middle-aged man with a neat beard—saw Mrinalini approaching and hurried forward.
"Princess!" he greeted, bowing low. "What brings you here?"
Mrinalini returned the greeting with a small smile.
"I am looking for a person named Vasusena. Where is he?"
Vritraketu's brows rose. "Vasusena? Who is that?"
The overseer glanced toward the river.
"Vasusena Mahodaya is always at the temple ghats. He sits near the water most of the day, meditating or helping pilgrims. A quiet man, but very generous with what little he has."
Mrinalini nodded her thanks.
"We will look for him there."
She turned to leave. Vritraketu followed, curiosity sharpening his gaze.
"Who is this Vasusena?" he asked. "A friend of yours?"
Mrinalini kept walking. "A traveler we met," she said simply.
Dhavani stayed silent, but her steps quickened slightly.
They reached the ghat. The afternoon sun slanted low across the water, turning the river gold. Pilgrims bathed, prayed, and lit lamps. Mrinalini scanned the steps, searching for the familiar tall figure with the long beard and simple cloth.
Vritraketu watched her, then looked at Dhavani. "You seem eager, too, Young Aunt. Is this Vasusena someone special?"
Dhavani did not answer that question.
Mrinalini looked up at the drifting clouds for a moment, a small smile touching her lips as if the memory itself warmed her.
"Vasusena is a powerful warrior, Prince Vitraketu," she said. "He saved my life not long ago—from bandits in the forests outside the city. For the sake of his departed loved one, he left his home far in the south, traveled hundreds of yojanas to reach Kashi, and now lives a simple life in penance. The radiance on his face, the strength in his muscles, the skill in his arrows—you cannot easily find such a man on earth. He fights not for glory, but for dharma. He gives without asking."
She paused, her gaze still on the sky, as if seeing him there among the clouds.
Vritraketu's steps slowed. Dhavani kept her eyes on the ground, her fingers tightening further on the dupatta. She didn't say a word, but she disliked the way her friend was describing Karna, especially that admiration and a hint of affection mixed in those words that she could sense.
Vritraketu, however, cleared his throat, forcing a laugh that came out too loud.
"You never traveled far from Kashi, Princess Mrinalini. That's why you have no idea what true power looks like."
Mrinalini stopped walking. She turned to face him, her lips curling into a polite but firm smile.
"You are the one in ignorance, Prince Vritraketu. When you meet him, you will understand."
Vritraketu's eyes narrowed, but he kept his smile in place.
"Fine," he said, voice light but laced with challenge. "Let's see this fellow who gained the admiration of the princess of Kashi so completely. Perhaps he will impress me."
Dhavani glanced up briefly, her face pale, but she said nothing. Mrinalini gave her a reassuring nod and started walking again.
A while later, they reached the familiar ghats where Vasusena often stayed. The river flowed wide and calm, its surface rippled by a light breeze. Pilgrims sat in small groups, chanting softly or offering lamps. Mrinalini and Dhavani scanned the steps, the water's edge, the shaded spots under the banyan trees.
Mrinalini pointed suddenly, her voice low.
"There."
Far along the bank, near a cluster of low steps, Karna sat surrounded by a pack of stray dogs—five or six thin, ragged creatures with matted fur and wary eyes.
He held a bundle of rotis in his hands, tearing them into small pieces.
One by one, he fed them, his movements slow and deliberate. The dogs wagged their tails, pressing close without fear, their rough tongues lapping up the food.
Vritraketu watched, his lips curling slightly. "Feeding strays now? What kind of warrior is this?"
Mrinalini did not answer. She only watched, a quiet smile on her face.
Dhavani's eyes softened. She took a small step forward, as if drawn by the sight.
Karna looked up then. He saw them approaching from a distance—the two princesses, the prince of Mathura, the guards trailing behind. He gave each dog a larger piece of roti, enough to last them.
"Stay and eat," he said gently to the animals. "Don't follow."
The dogs obeyed at once, settling on the ground with their food, tails still wagging. Not one followed him as he rose and walked toward the group.
Reaching them, Karna stopped a respectful distance away. He inclined his head, greeting them first.
"Princess Mrinalini. Princess Dhavani."
His eyes moved to the young man beside them.
"And you are…?"
Vritraketu straightened, lifting his chin. "The Prince of Mathura, Maharaj Kamsa's son, Vritraketu."
Karna's facial expression changed at once. The calm in his eyes sharpened, just for a moment, like the edge of a blade catching light.
His eyes lingered on Vritraketu for a few long seconds. However, he did not bow or offer the usual pleasantries of a courtly greeting. Instead, he turned his gaze to Mrinalini, his voice steady but carrying a quiet edge.
"You didn't say that you were acquainted with the Prince of Mathura, Princess."
Mrinalini looked to the side, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of her dupatta. The ghat bustled around them—pilgrims splashing in the shallow water, priests chanting mantras near a small shrine—but the air between the four felt suddenly still, heavy with unspoken currents.
Vritraketu puffed out his chest, stepping forward with the easy arrogance of someone used to deference.
"Not an acquaintance. She is my soon-to-be wife. And who are you to her that she needed to share everything about her future husband? And also…" He frowned, his voice sharpening. "You didn't greet me even after knowing my identity. Aren't you afraid of death?"
Karna's expression remained calm as he replied evenly, without raising his voice, "First of all, I consider the Princess an acquaintance. Secondly, had I known she was betrothed to a prince of Mathura, I would have kept my distance out of respect for her position."
Vritraketu's face flushed with pride, as if the words confirmed his place in the world.
He opened his mouth to say that glad you know your place, but Karna continued, his tone shifting to something quieter, more pointed.