Draupadi continued to sit meekly on the plate within the circle of iron. Shakuni felt an unusual stab of pity for the young Princess who sat on the scale like a prize exhibit at a fair. It reminded him suddenly of his own sister, Gandhari, when she had been sold off to Dhritarashtra as a token of peace. But when he looked at Draupadi again, through the eyes of Shakuni, and not a brother, he realized the White Eagle had been right. The people of the Union longed for something higher than themselves, Royalty worth worshipping. For a long time, they had bowed before all manner of Kings, but none of them truly royal: Dhritarashtra’s brother Pandu had suffered from a sexual disease, Dhritarashtra himself was blind, and Duryodhan... well, he had too grim a jaw, that seemed crafted only to issue commands. But no one could deny that Draupadi was all that a Queen should be, and more. The mere idea of a pirate sitting alongside Duryodhan on the throne of Hastina seemed absurd now.

Nine chests were emptied before the plate bearing Draupadi finally began to rise from the ground and then slowly levelled. The show was over. As the plate was lowered again, Draupadi rose, picking up the shreds of her self-respect even as servants began to empty the opposite plate of the dowry. Suddenly, men were hovering before her, sucking in their stomachs, puffing out their chests, flexing their muscles. They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder as the Princess walked by them, escorted by her mother, Queen Prishita, like a General inspecting his troops.

Not this again. Shakuni looked away.

‘What’s happening?’ Sudama asked, bewildered.

‘I was going to ask you, little one,’ Karna said.

‘It’s the Princess Dance. The first and last dance a Princess performs in public, before she is wed,’ Shakuni answered stiffly. ‘It’s a strange Panchalan custom. She will choose one amongst her suitors to dance with. It’s a strong indication for the betting guilds, however, about who her choice will be at the swayamvar.’

‘Is this why Duryodhan forced me through those dance lessons?’ Karna asked, looking betrayed. For half a moon, a skilled eunuch had called upon Duryodhan to train him in the required dance forms, but the Prince had refused to learn unless Karna underwent the ordeal with him. ‘He told me it’s a Kaurava tradition, undertaken to restore a relationship that is fractured! He used that to blackmail me.’ Karna was aghast.