‘I was going to say expressive. Though I admit he was rather upset by the words of Lord Niarkatt. He has invited me today to another hunt. A rematch, he calls it.’ He gave a small smile. ‘I do not spy Prince Duryodhan anywhere.’

Not again. Shakuni had answered the question a hundred times already, and the sun had yet to rise.

‘He’s taken ill, Your Grace. I’m afraid what melted like snow on the tongue last evening has descended like iron into the guts.’ Shakuni could only hope Duryodhan would be returned alive. It would be a great travesty of justice if all his efforts to sow poisonous seeds in the Prince’s mind yielded no harvest.

‘My sympathies. Will he not be vying for the Princess’ hand then?’

‘Lord Karna will be participating instead.’

Shakuni had barely recognized Karna when he strode in. The shy man of the evening before, clad in unostentatious raiment, was gone, replaced by a warrior with a golden half-sleeved plate over lean-muscled arms that made one yearn for some talent with a paintbrush. Shakuni had also noticed the puppy glances Karna had cast at the Princess. His face revealed his state of mind as clear as an autobiography. The lad was hopelessly in love. Draupadi on the other hand, was a different story. Shakuni could not quite gauge her feelings, for her inscrutable face was clearly a work of fiction.

‘Ah, the day breaks,’ Shakuni said, noticing the first glimmers of dawn through the coloured glass of the semicircular windows.

For some reason, Bhagadatt visibly tensed. ‘I fear I may be suffering from the same ailment as Duryodhan,’ he lamented. ‘I wish Hastina good fortune, and hope there will be future economic ventures between our kingdoms.’ Bhagadatt bowed and hurried off without waiting for Shakuni to answer.

Shakuni frowned at this sudden departure and the feigned ailment. Shaking his head, he made his way to where Karna sat with Sudama.

‘You look tired Uncle Shakuni,’ Sudama said.

‘Lord Shakuni will do, boy,’ Shakuni mumbled without malice. Despite his misgivings about Karna, he liked Sudama. He was a good-hearted lad. His unruly hair curled over his forehead, constantly annoying his bright eyes. For some reason he reminded Shakuni of himself as a boy – naïve, foolish, and utterly clueless. He softened. ‘Just jitters before the tournament,’ Shakuni lied. ‘Have you seen the other stalwarts present here? Everyone a mighty knight in their own right.’

‘They are nothing. I know my Uncle will win!’ Sudama’s eyes shone with pride.

Before Karna could respond, another voice boomed behind them, ‘I sure hope so, for I have put my wager on him.’ The ancient King Bahlika limped in, with his son Bhurishravas in tow.

Karna immediately rose and bowed. ‘It is an honour to meet the grandest of all Kauravas, Your Grace.’

Shakuni half rose and bowed too, with difficulty.