‘Ask Dushashan. He can go to Panchal.’

‘A younger brother to wed before the elder and bring forth the heir to the throne? No, I will not have the Union plunge itself into confusion again! And Dushashan has settled in Balkh, far away,’ the Queen said. ‘You know he doesn’t want anything to do with us. Do not compel the King to pass a diktat!’

‘Do as you will,’ Duryodhan replied, walking towards the door. ‘But I refuse.’

Karna quickly stepped in front of him. He saw a broken man. He could see Duryodhan’s iron will falter within him for he knew that what they suggested was indeed the wise, the practical thing to do. It was what was expected of him. It was the price of his royal birth. ‘I know this is a heavy price to pay for the future of the Union,’ Karna said quietly. ‘But the very fact that it must be paid is proof enough that it is worth paying. I know you hesitate to wrong a woman, but courage lies in doing what you must for the greater good.’

‘You are my friend, Karna,’ Duryodhan said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why would you…?’

If only he knew. ‘I am your friend, but first I am a Highmaster of the Union.’ Karna leaned closer to whisper, ‘Remember what you said when you appointed me: ‘Other people may see a crown on my head, but only I will know that I carry a mountain’. You are a Prince of the Union first. Love does not last forever Prince; land does.’

‘There has to be another way.’

‘I know no other way, friend. If there was, I am sure you would have found it by now. Your cousins are dead. A civil war has been averted. But you heard the others. Lions circle the wounded Eagle. Your decision can avert a war and save thousands of lives. Do not let what happened to Mathura happen to the Union.’

Slowly, Duryodhan turned to regard the others, all of whom waited in silence. In that moment of despair, Karna saw in Duryodhan a man who had constantly toiled in the fields of others’ expectations. Many had been buried alive in such fields.

The King finally spoke. ‘I know you are distressed, but you are not an ordinary man on the street, Duryodhan. Your mother and I too, married from duty, not love. You are a Prince of the Union. You have no will of your own, no choice that is not bound up in the Hastina banner. It’s about time you learnt that. There is always a price to be paid for the throne, my son.’

‘Mati will never agree to be a second wife,’ Duryodhan said, his voice heavy with certainty.

‘Perhaps not,’ Shakuni said reflectively. ‘But we only need to get her father to agree. Surely, he could never find a better match for his daughter than the future King of the Hastina Union? Pragmatism always wins over passion, Prince.’