The rhythmic clang of steel against steel echoed through the open-air training yard, mixing with the faint scent of sweat and warm sand. The palace loomed in the distance, its domes and spires glowing under the golden embrace of the setting sun. Within its walls, politics dictated fates as surely as steel dictated the outcome of battle. And today, Anamika found herself at the mercy of both.

She stood barefoot on the worn training grounds, her toned arms glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. The Vritrashakti—a wickedly curved blade, honed to a deadly edge—rested in her grip, still warm from the last flurry of strikes. Her breath was steady, controlled, but her fingers flexed around the hilt with the barely-contained frustration simmering beneath her skin.

Her brothers had always warned her that as a princess, she could never truly be free. But Ziham, the youngest and still unburdened by royal duty, had once whispered to her that she could carve her own path. How foolish of her to believe that for even a moment.

Anamika turned sharply, dark eyes locking onto the approaching figure—the one she was to marry. A gold maang tikka rested against her forehead, swaying slightly as she moved, and the rich, embroidered fabrics at her waist rustled with every step.

`So this is my future?` she thought bitterly, tightening her grip on Vritrashakti. `Bound to someone I barely know, all in the name of strategy and alliances. A prize to be handed off like a well-trained horse.`

She exhaled sharply, pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face before wiping the sweat from her brow. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the practiced civility of a princess, but beneath it lay the unmistakable edge of resentment.

"So this is what my future husband looks like," she said, tilting her head slightly. Her eyes flickered over them, assessing, unimpressed. "I suppose I should say 'welcome,' but I can't decide if this place is more of a kingdom or a well-decorated cage."

She gave a small, humorless chuckle, stepping forward just enough that the tip of her blade glinted between them. Not threatening, not exactly. But not inviting either.

"I assume you didn't come all this way just to stare," she continued, voice laced with dry amusement. "Or did you want to see what kind of woman they've shackled you to?"

The blade gleamed in the dimming light as she tilted it slightly, the unspoken challenge as sharp as the weapon itself.

Let them try to tame her. Let them try.