The Prince Who Became Their Queen

Chapter 3: The Temple Visit

The morning after the feast, the small group left for the old temple on the kingdom’s edge. It was supposed to be a simple blessing for the upcoming marriage.

They chose to hide in plain sight and travel light. Chandrika rode in a modest palanquin. Surya rode beside her on horseback. Kiran and four of his most trusted men formed a tight guard around them.

Chandrika had been quiet most of the way. But when they stopped at a shady spot near the river to rest, she climbed out and walked next to Surya. No one else was close enough to hear.

Kiran immediately produced dried mango from somewhere inside his pack.

Surya stared.

"How do you always have food?"

"Preparation."

One guard muttered,

"He stole it from breakfast."

"Borrowed."

Chandrika laughed.

"You're impossible."

“You nervous?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“A little,” Surya admitted. “Feels like the whole kingdom is watching us.”

She gave him a small smile, the kind she only showed when it was just them. She bumped his shoulder lightly.

"You still count exits."

Surya blinked.

"...What?"

"Every room."

"Every road."

"Every guard."

He looked away.

"...Old habit."

"No."

She smiled.

"Just you."

"We've survived your plans before."

Surya frowned.

"Those were good plans."

"One of them involved stealing Father's horse."

"...It almost worked."

The temple sat on a rocky hill. The temple bells should have been ringing for morning prayers. They weren't.

It was an ancient temple, walls half-covered in thick, twisting vines. Servants had laid out trays of fresh coconuts and sweets as offerings to the goddess. An elderly priestess in white robes waited at the entrance. Her eyes lingered on Chandrika a bit too long — a deep, knowing gaze between them.

Surya felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The priestess gave his sister the faintest nod, almost imperceptible. Chandrika returned it with the smallest lowering of her lashes. A silent conversation passed between them. Surya reached for his sword before realizing he had no reason to.

She led them inside the temple where the air cold with damp stone . Shadows danced across carved walls depicting ancient tales of sacrifice and transformation. The priestess poured divine water from a simple clay jug into earthen cups, her wrinkled hands steady but deliberate.

“For safe travels and a strong union,divine water blessed by goddess” she intoned, pressing a cup into Chandrika’s hands first, then Surya’s. Her eyes met Surya’s for a brief moment. There was something mystrious in them.

"Drink."
Something cold slid down Surya’s spine.

"Why me first?"

"Because you are the man."

The priestess smiled.

"...Today."

Surya hesitated. A vague instinct tugged at him, the same one that had saved him in border skirmishes. But refusing would insult both the temple and the goddess. He drank. The liquid was bitter with herbs. A faint floral aftertaste lingered on his tongue.

All his subordinated followed.

At first nothing happened. Then the floor seemed to breathe. Surya’s vision narrowed at the edges. His tongue felt thick and useless. The cup slipped from his fingers and shattered. He tried to shout Kiran’s name, but only a soft, broken sound came out.

For one absurd second he found himself wondering whether the priest would be angry about breaking temple pottery.

Then darkness swallowed him. and shattered on the stone floor.

“Chandra…?” he managed, his voice slurring.

He saw Kiran’s hand fumbling for his sword, eyes wide with sudden realization. One of the guards collapsed first with a heavy thud. Then another. Chandrika remained standing a moment longer, her face pale but strangely calm as she looked at the priestess.

The old woman whispered something to her — too quiet for Surya to hear.

Surya lunged forward, but his legs betrayed him. The last thing he saw was the priestess watching them as the temple floor rushed up to meet him.

A final, horrifying thought pierced the fog: *Chandra knew.* She had expected this. The subtle signals, the calm acceptance — everything clicked into place too late as darkness swallowed him.

When Surya woke, he was back in his own bed in the palace. The world felt wrong, his tongue scraping against the roof of a dry mouth that still tasted of a sweet, floral venom. His head pounded like someone had hit him with a rock. He tried to call out for his sword, but his limbs felt loose, disconnected. Kiran sat nearby, looking exhausted.

“We carried you back,” Kiran said, voice heavy. “The others are fine. But Chandrika… she’s gone. No trace.”

Surya pushed himself up, ignoring the spinning room. He went straight to Chandrika’s guest chambers. The bed was neatly made. Her clothes still hung in the cupboard. But on the small writing table lay a folded letter with his name on it.

He opened it with shaking hands.

*Surya,*

*I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I love you as my dearest brother. I tried to accept this marriage for the sake of both kingdoms, but I can’t live a lie. Please forgive me.Her name is Meera. We’ve been meeting in secret for two years. *

*— Chandrika*

The paper trembled in his hands. For a long moment he could not look away from the words “Her name is Meera.”

The letter slipped in his grip. The weight of her words settled heavy in his chest, a wound that felt impossible to heal.

Surya stared at the words until they blurred. Footsteps thundered down the hallway. The door burst open.

King Dev and Queen Leela stormed in faces red with anger. Mahaveer came last, sword still at his hip.

“What have you done?” the king roared. “The princess is missing!”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Queen Leela’s voice was ice cold, but her eyes were filled with disappointment. “You knew your own sister was in love with a woman and you hid it from us? From me?”

Mahaveer stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. “While you were playing protector with her, she slipped away. Now our kingdom's future is hanging by a thread.”

Surya swallowed hard. “I didn’t know her plans” He held up the letter. “I’ll fix this. I swear I will set everything right.”

He thought of the scar on his left arm — the one Chandrika had stitched herself after he took a fall during one of their secret horse races years ago. She had cried more than he had.

Before anyone could answer, a messenger arrived, breathing hard.

“Word from Viran,” the messenger panted, hands trembling as he offered the seal-broken cylinder. “King of Jaynagar requests three portraits of his bride, Princess Chandrika. He demands to see her from every angle, captured in full royal regalia, before the wedding procession arrives at borders.” The words seemed to freeze the air in the chamber.

King Dev’s face shifted to pure desperation. Slowly, the King turned his gaze away from the empty cupboards and fixed Surya with a piercing, predatory stare.“You will handle this,” the King commanded, his voice dropping into a low, iron register.

He stepped forward, placing the crushing weight of his hand on Surya's trembling shoulder.

"Your sister ran."

"The kingdom cannot."

"Bring her back—or find another solution.
. You will make sure this marriage happens—no matter what must be sacrificed. No matter the cost. Fail, and we all burn.”

The weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder felt like a sentence.

The room fell silent. Surya clutched the letter tighter.