It's still dark outside. That's the first thought the pot-bellied man has when he wakes up in the middle of the night. He inhales, but the air is thick and stale, carrying the faint tang of old wood and dust. The sheets under his hands are coarse, scratchy against his skin, and colder than he expects. Somewhere nearby, something creaks softly, the long groan of strained timber. The second thought is the realisation that this is not the same room where he fell asleep. Usually, Shakya is a man hard to catch off guard. It's widely known that he sleeps with a dagger under his pillow. A person tends to become a bit paranoid when they are the richest man in the empire, only outshone by the royal family.
Eyes wide awake now, he scans the room, taking everything in calmly. He isn't restrained or hurt. The room is old and has clearly seen better days, but it's clean at least. The bed is not one a man of his stature would ever touch. If you ignore the headache he's having, everything else seems well.
He makes his way across the small room to an open window. There isn't much sound to give an idea of where this is. It's as if the dark, moonless night has swallowed every sign of life. There are trees surrounding the house, stretching far. He's on the third floor, in a run-down house in the middle of nowhere.
Even Shakya, with all his composure, startles a little when the door to his room opens.
And in walks a woman as beautiful as the nymphs of heaven, spoken of only in lore.
She moves without making a sound, hips swaying like a snake's curves. Her brown skin is almost black in the dark night. There are no lamps in here, and yet her eyes shine a pretty silver. It was those pretty eyes that had dragged his focus to her first. Now they serve only to unsettle him.
"Is the place not to your liking, my lord?" She bends down to pick up the blanket that has fallen half off the bed, forgotten in light of the completely unfamiliar surroundings.
Shakya doesn't speak. His eyes trace over her, taking her in and checking for any threats. He has known her for over three months now. She had been one of the handmaidens at Annapurna, a high-end restaurant offering not only food but pleasing company to its patrons. From the first moment, he could not take his eyes off of her. And yet today she looked the most breathtaking he had ever seen her. She was dressed in deep green, a long skirt showing a hint of her ankles and a low-cut blouse. The dupatta wasnt doing much in terms of modesty, teasing a hint of cleavage when she leaned over.
Hearing no answer, she looks up, an eyebrow ticking up in amusement.
Shakya drags his eyes back out the window, trying again to gauge where he is currently.
"Where have you brought me, Ketaki?" His voice is rough and low, his head pulsing, promising an onset of a terrible migraine. He had started feeling a little faint. Maybe something was more wrong than he had initially thought.
Ketaki giggles, seemingly not noticing her guest's discomfort. She slowly climbs up the bed and leans back on the pillows. "It's nothing you need to fret over, my lord. I just felt we hadn't had a chance to have a heart-to-heart in a while. Here, no one would interrupt us."
Her legs fold, hiking her skirt up to show a little more of her leg as she beckons him.
Shakya doesn't move an inch. His eyes narrow. A businessman of his calibre is no fool. He has lost count of how many times this seductress had been in his bed, his arms, and yet something about her tonight was ringing all the wrong bells in his mind. He had a bad feeling about this.
"You know, you really should sit down. We can't have you faint there and hurt yourself, my lord "
Oh, so something was clearly wrong with him. Had she poisoned him? But how? Anything and everything he ever tastes is always checked for poison. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed.
"Who are you really? How did you even bring me here?" There is no way a single woman could possibly have smuggled him out of a heavily guarded estate in the heart of the royal capital. Unless, of course, she wasn't alone.
Ketaki chuckles again, "What do you mean by that? Ah, my lord, you wound me. Do you not remember? You walked out with me."
Usually, he would dismiss this as nonsense, but his head was throbbing now, making the room spin. He tried to trace back the night. He had gone out to survey his businesses and later had a meeting with some other important people. Ketaki was there as his woman throughout the night, hanging off his arm as a pretty thing to stay quiet and be looked at. They had dinner and-
And- what? It was all a blur after that. Had he even returned to his estate? He was certain he hadn't had much to drink. Did he spend another passionate night with her?"
Have you poisoned me?" His teeth clench, trying and failing to dull the throb. That was the only possible explanation.
Ketaki presses a hand to her chest as her eyes widen in mock offence. "How could I ever, my lord!" Then she paused abruptly, as if reconsidering, "You could say, you poisoned yourself." Her mouth tilts up in an amused smile as her tongue peeks out and traces over her lips.
Realisation hits like lightning through his spine, hard enough that Shakya has to steady himself so he doesn't collapse in a heap on the bed. "You bitch! Nagkanya?!"
She frowns, like chastising a kid, "Come on now, it's rude to dig into a lady's personal affairs."
She gets up and strolls around casually, like a man isn't dying in her bed right now. And casually pulls out a small vial and puts it on a table on the other end of the room. "As I said, I am merely here for a good conversation. Just give me what I want, and I will be on my way."
Shakya is wheezing, breath coming out strained. "What... is it that you want... from me? Money? Estates? O-or do you... want information?" His vision is going blurry, and so is his speech. "I can make you the... richest woman in the world-" he's cut off in a coughing fit as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. "P-please just..."
Ketaki takes a seat on a sofa facing the bed. "Where is the Chandrahasa?"
You can see the realisation on Shakya's face as he goes pale, "I-I don't know what you are-"
"Where is the Chandrahasa?" Ketaki sounds bored. "Please, my lord, do not make me repeat myself a third time. You know very well what I speak of."
"I swear! I have no idea! I haven't even seen the real thing, I've only ever heard of it!"
A knife stabs the bedpost as it swings past Shakya's head, too close for comfort, and he instantly goes quiet.
"Lord Shakya." Ketaki's voice holds no trace of emotion now. "If you realised I'm a nagkanya, you should know not to test my patience. Or do you wish to die a slow, agonising death? I'm trying to be considerate here." Afterall, nagkanyas were the sweetest poison.
"You fucker! You bitch-!" Shakya is in pain; it's like his insides are on fire. Like and crawling through his veins. "You think you can get away with this?! I curse you-!"
"Yes, yes, I've heard this so many times by now that it's nothing new. Do you know how many have died by my hands, my lord?" She chuckles like it's a good memory. "So, Chandrahasa? Its last known presence was at your estate, was it not? What did you do with the divine sword? Did you hand it over to Magadh's enemies?"
Shakya's eyes are rolling in pain now. He keeps mumbling curses, his body twitching, and Ketaki sighs. "Ugh, if he dies like this, my lord will skin me alive." She shivers.
Walking over to the dying man, she slaps his cheek a few times to get him to focus. "What went on in your estate on the evening of last Friday? Answer me!"
"I swear I... don't know what's..." the pain is blinding and all he wants is for it to end, "Kuber...it was.. Kuber. H-he's the one..." in a last attempt at life, Shakya keep mumbling about how it was Kuber all along. "It's him you should go after! P-please I swear... no more..."
Ketaki sighs, finding him pitiful. "Do you know how I managed to get you here? Why none of your men came looking? You were curious, weren't you?"
When Shakya realises what she is hinting at, all his hope dies, "No, it can't be...He's my son...Never...he would never-!"
Ketaki frowns, annoyed. "Some father you are. You have the nerve to point out your filial ties when you just threw him into the grave you dug for yourself?" She wipes off the hand that had touched him just now on the bedsheet, as if it touched something filthy. "Spit it out. Who is in possession of Chandrahasa currently? Who did you give it to?"
But he is beyond answering. His life is fading fast. "Shakya? Hey, you bastard! Come on, what happened to the sword?! Fuck-"
Ketaki leans in to hear what he is muttering, and it's only a repeat of 'east'. Not long after, even that stops.