Chapter 3: The Game of Power and Pain

In his room The war tents of Ujjain were alive with the sounds of warriors preparing for battle. The scent of sweat, leather, and burning sandalwood filled the air. Virendra sat at the head of his council, his expression unreadable.

A messenger knelt before him, his voice cautious. "My lord, Mahabalesh has announced a suitor ceremony for Prince Jayant."

Virendra’s fingers, resting on the hilt of his sword, curled slightly. "And?"

The messenger hesitated. "The first invitation was sent to King Shatrughna of Rajgad."

The sword was drawn before anyone could blink. The sharp edge pressed against the messenger’s throat.

"Say that name again," Virendra growled, his voice dangerously low.

The man trembled. "K-King Shatrughna, my lord."

The tent was silent.

His soldiers, his commanders—they all saw it.

The way Virendra’s breathing turned uneven. The way his grip on the sword tightened.

The way he lost control.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped his lips. So this was Jayant’s revenge.

Virendra had left him with a scar, and now Jayant would repay him with a wound that would never heal.

"Prepare my horse," Virendra commanded, voice cold. "We ride to Mahabalesh."

...................

As Virendra stode in his tent the parchment in his hand trembled as he read the words again.

"His Highness, Omega Prince Jayant Rajvardhan, cordially invites the honorable rulers of the land to partake in his grand suitor selection ceremony."

But what sent a sharp, unexpected pang through Virendra’s chest was the name written below.

King Shatrughna of Rajgad.

His uncle.

The ink blurred before Virendra’s eyes, his grip tightening. He could almost hear his uncle’s laughter, the vile amusement in the old Alpha’s voice.

"A royal Omega… and untouched no longer. But still, young enough to serve his purpose."

Virendra’s gut twisted in a way he could not understand. Why should it matter? Hadn’t he wanted Jayant ruined?

But something in him rebelled at the thought of that fragile body beneath someone else—beneath his uncle.

With a snarl, Virendra slammed the parchment down.

"He is mine."

.................

...Jayant's POV...

In Mahabalesh, the palace buzzed with preparations. Jewels, silks, and gold-threaded garments were selected for me, but I felt nothing. I was numb.

I stood before the grand mirror of my chamber, watching the attendants drape me in regal attire. The deep red of my robes should have made me feel powerful, but all I saw was the ghost of a boy who had once believed in love.

But tonight, I would not be that boy.

Tonight, I would be a prince.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. My mother entered, her eyes softer than before. She placed a hand on my cheek, her voice low.

"You do not have to do this," she whispered.

I held her gaze. "Yes, I do."

Because this was no longer just about me. This was about restoring my pride, my family’s honor.

And making Virendra burn.

As the palace gates opened and the first of my suitors arrived, I took a deep breath.

Let the games begin.

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