Chapter 5: The Smell of Dried Mint and Sandalwood

POV: Princess Vasundhara

The morning after the Jal-Tarang Festival was soft, warm, and lazy. Standing along the Emerald River until the last fire-lanterns floated away at midnight meant the entire palace was slow to move.

I was sitting comfortably on a low velvet cushion in Mother's private inner chamber. The heavy silk curtains were pulled back, letting in the golden morning light and a cool breeze from the courtyard gardens. Nearby, two senior maidservants were quietly clearing away empty tea cups, while a palace apothecary attendant stood near the side table, carefully sorting fresh herbs for the family's morning drinks.

Mother sat on her raised divan, casually looking over a list of temple donations with a court clerk. Even without her heavy gold jewelry or formal crown, she looked every bit the Queen—calm, regal, and completely in control of the household.

A soft rustle came from the doorway, and a maid stepped aside to let Shivsundari into the room.

My little sister was rubbing her eye with a tiny fist, her hair slightly messy from sleep, and her peach cotton dress rumpled. In her right hand, she tightly clutched the small cedar boat the old weaver woman had carved for her at the riverbank last night. Behind her, her personal nursemaid stood quietly in the hallway, carrying a pair of soft embroidered shoes and a warm shawl in case Shivsundari needed them.

Mother glanced up from her papers, her face softening instantly. She waved the clerk away, set down her writing stylus, and opened her arms. "Look who finally woke up. Come here, my sweet flower."

Shivsundari walked over with her usual quiet, deliberate steps and climbed right onto the divan, burying her face into Mother's shoulder with a long, sleepy sigh.

Mother wrapped her arms around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead while resting the back of her hand against Shivsundari's cheek—checking to make sure the damp river air hadn't given her a chill.

"Her skin is cool, thank goodness," Mother said softly, smoothing down Shivsundari's wild morning hair.

"I told you she'd sleep late, Mother," I smiled, leaning back against my cushions. "Aditya-Bhaiya wouldn't let her close her eyes until the very last lantern hit the water."

"Aditya was too excited himself," Mother chuckled gently, gesturing to her maidservant.

The maid immediately stepped forward carrying a silver tray with a cup of warm almond milk, setting it down on the low table beside the divan.

Before Shivsundari could even reach for it, noisy footsteps echoed down the grand corridor. The heavy door swung open, and Karna burst into the room, his cheeks flushed and his hair a total mess.

"Mother!" Karna announced loudly, completely ignoring the servants bowing near the door. "Aditya-Bhaiya says I'm too small to feed the lead elephant today! Tell him he's lying!"

Aditya walked in right behind him, looking remarkably polished for someone who had stayed up all night, though his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

"I didn't say you were too small, Karna," Aditya said with a smug grin, crossing his arms. "I said the elephant doesn't like people who forget to wash their faces in the morning."

Mother raised a single eyebrow, giving both of my brothers a look that instantly quieted the room. "Is this how royal princes enter their mother's chambers? Loud enough to wake the entire east wing?"

Karna instantly clamped his mouth shut, glancing down at his bare feet, while Aditya offered an apologetic, sheepish smile.

"Sorry, Mother," Aditya murmured, bowing his head slightly.

"Go to your quarters, both of you," Mother said, though the corner of her lips twitched with amusement. "Wash your faces, let the attendants help you dress properly, and then you may visit the stables."

"Yes, Mother," they chimed together, turning around and scrambling back out the door as quickly as they had entered.

I laughed quietly under my breath, turning back toward Shivsundari, who was watching the doorway with wide, curious eyes.

POV: Princess Shivsundari

Mother smelled of fresh roses, sandalwood, and warm honey.

I stayed tucked safely against her side, watching two maids quietly fold soft cotton sheets in the corner while another attendant stood ready near the door with my shoes.

In my past life, mornings were cold, rushed, and completely lonely. Being an orphan meant waking up to a screeching alarm in an empty room, eating a stale breakfast, and running out into the gray city alone. Nobody held you when you were sleepy. Nobody had servants standing by just to bring you warm milk, carry your shoes, or keep the room quiet for you.

Being a princess in this life was entirely different. Everything was looked after by an endless stream of attendants, leaving space for moments like this—just sitting with family while the palace slowly came alive around us.

Vasundhara shifted on her carpet and reached into a small wooden box the apothecary attendant had set on the table. She picked out a dark, star-shaped spice pod and held it out toward me on her open palm with a warm, sisterly smile.

"Look, Shiv," Vasundhara said softly, leaning closer. "Mother had the cooks brew this in your almond milk today so your throat doesn't feel scratchy after being out by the river all night."

I reached out and took the star-shaped pod into my small hand, feeling its rough, hard points before bringing it up to my nose to take a gentle sniff.

"It smells like... the sweet tea Aditya-Bhaiya gave me last night," I said softly, my voice still a little raspy from sleep.

Vasundhara beamed and looked up at Mother with pride. "See, Mother? I told you she'd remember the smell."

Mother smiled gently, her warm hand resting over mine as I held the spice star. "She pays attention to everything, Vasundhara. More than any of us realize."

I took a slow sip of the warm almond milk the maid handed me, letting the sweet flavor settle in my stomach. Outside the carved windows, I could hear Aditya and Karna's faint voices down in the courtyard, still arguing about the elephants while their personal attendants chased after them with their outerwear.

I rested my head back against Mother's arm, holding my little wooden boat in one hand and the spice pod in the other. There were no exams to rush to, no cold city streets, no fight to survive. Just a safe home, a family that watched over every detail, and a long, quiet day stretching ahead.