During dinner, Sage Durva quietly observed. Something felt off.
This was the first time Queen Chandra had joined the King for an evening meal — and she said almost nothing. She sat poised, silent, regal. But when her eyes met the Sage’s, she offered a soft, sweet smile. Graceful. Enchanting.
For the Sage, this was the first meeting with the Queen — her beauty did not surprise him. What unsettled him was the King.
King Vikram was not himself. His eyes were locked onto the Queen with a disturbing intensity — like a starved dog gazing at a bone. Despite the Sage sitting just across the table, the King barely acknowledged his presence. It was as if he’d forgotten Durva was even there.
As food arrived, the King would lift his fork, then pause mid-air — lost in Chandra’s face. When she noticed, she’d offer a shy smile and gently urge him to eat, almost playfully. It was intimate, inappropriate, and disturbing — especially in front of a guest.
Durva kept calm, eating quietly while observing.
Then something crossed the line.
The King, entranced, reached across the table and took the Queen’s fingers in his. He slowly caressed them, trailing up her arm. She leaned closer and whispered, “My love… not now.” Her eyes flicked toward the Sage.
Flustered, the King stood. “I apologize. I’m not feeling well. Please, enjoy your meal.” He motioned to the Queen as he turned to leave.
But before she even stood, he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her into his chest. Her feet barely touched the floor.
He was drunk — not on wine, but on lust.
The puzzle clicked into place. The Queen had him completely under her spell.
The next day and night, Sage Durva stayed in the palace, trying to gather more information. But the palace staff remained loyal and tight-lipped. No one was willing to speak ill of the Queen.
What he did notice, however, was revealing: when the Queen wasn’t around, the King behaved like his old self — fair, composed, devoted to his people. But in her presence, he became passive, mindless, pliant. He never said “no” to her. He couldn’t.
It was dangerous. The Queen’s influence was growing. Durva knew he had to act — before it was too late.
But one question burned in his mind: Why had she beaten Nila? What was the servant’s side of the story?
He needed to get close — unnoticed. He needed a plan.
...........
The day came for Durva to take his leave.
“Dear King,” said the Sage, bowing, 
“thank you for your generous hospitality. I have enjoyed my time here. The peace in your garden will remain in my heart.”
“The pleasure was ours, Sage Durva,” the King replied warmly. 
“It is a blessing to have had you in our kingdom.”
“May your reign be long and just,” said the Sage, offering his blessings. With that, he turned and left the palace — or so it seemed.
...........
Once deep in the nearby forest, Sage Durva closed his eyes and began to transform. He removed his robes and changed into the simple garments of a common man. Then, he carefully wiped away the long beard and thick mustache that had hidden his true face.
Though a sage, Durva was still in his twenties — tall, broad-shouldered, and strikingly handsome. Until now, his features had been concealed beneath the veil of age and austerity. Now, his youthful face emerged: sharp jawline, clear skin, and eyes full of quiet strength.
The disguise was complete. 
“Let the journey begin,” he whispered.
...........
At the city gates, the guards stopped him.
“Who are you, young man? What’s your business in the kingdom?”
“I heard the palace was looking for a chef,” the man replied. “I was hoping for a chance to apply.”
“A chef, huh?” One guard eyed him skeptically. “Rare to see a man take up cooking.”
He smiled. “It’s my craft. I’d like to impress the King"
The guards laughed. “Good luck, then. What’s your name?”
“Harsha.”
They let him through.
...........
As Harsha walked through the city, passersby turned their heads. Curious eyes followed him — a stranger, fine-looking and unfamiliar. Some even stopped him to chat.
At the palace gates, he was questioned again, then escorted to the kitchen.
There, he met Sika, an elderly woman who had served the palace for over twenty years. She eyed him with mild suspicion — then welcomed him kindly.
“Let’s see what you can do,” she said, handing him fresh ingredients.
Harsha’s cooking left the kitchen staff stunned. The aroma, the balance, the taste — it was beyond anything they had expected. Sika clapped her hands in delight.
That afternoon, a sample was sent to the King and Queen.
...........
That evening, the royal couple was served Harsha’s creation.
“This is... divine,” the King said, delighted.
The Queen remained silent.
Concerned, the King gently touched her cheek. “Is it not to your liking, my love?”
His fingers slid behind her ear.
She took his hand in both of hers, resting her cheek against his palm. “My king… this is incredible. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
The King’s heart skipped.
He pulled her into a kiss. She teased him by slipping away.
“No… no, my lord,” she whispered seductively. “Later. I will do as you wish.”
The King restrained himself, breathless.
“This dish is truly remarkable,” she finally said. “Have we hired someone new?”
“Yes,” the King replied, and ordered the new chef to be summoned.
...........
Harsha bowed deeply. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lord. I am Harsha. I hope my cooking pleased you.”
Then it happened.
As the Queen laid eyes on him, her breath caught.
Something stirred inside her — something primal. Something dangerous.
A new desire awakened.
I want him.