Shishupal had no clue what they were talking about but he was aware of Jarasandh’s distaste of poison. A craven’s weapon, he had called it when he had disallowed his Council’s suggestion to use it against the Usurper. Vengeance is after all a personal affair. And poison is a professional tool, not a personal one.

‘If you insist on a poor widow succumbing to your wiles,’ Lady Rasha said with a smile on her face, ‘then so be it, Your Grace. I will comply.’

‘Now show me what Shalya and you have brought for me this time.’

Shishupal spent no effort in attempting to understand what had transpired between the Emperor and Lady Rasha. Best to keep out of the games the powerful played. He was still wondering what he was doing here. No one had spoken to him after the ultimatum he had given Kalyavan. He preferred it that way. Invisible. He picked up the wine cup in his hands and inhaled deeply. The fragrance of orange blossom, mingled with pomegranate and lemon grass, rushed up to meet him. When he sipped the warm liquid, the steam gently rolled into his nostrils and ran warmly down his throat. Ahh… Shishupal let out a gratified sigh.

‘Your Grace,’ Lord Shalya said, with a flourish of hands, ‘I wish to introduce a close friend of mine – Kalyavan, Warlord of the Yavanas.’

‘A pleasure to finally meet you, Emperor,’ Kalyavan said without standing up or even bowing. He flicked a glance sideways. ‘Why Shalya, my friend, the Emperor appears almost naked beside your magnificence,’ he quipped.

Shishupal almost choked on his wine. Such insolence! Remembering his duty, his free hand flashed to his sword. Seeing this, Jarasandh gently shook his head, commanding him to be still.

The Greek raised his hands in a gesture of mock apology. ‘My apologies. We Greeks do not know our manners, and have the nasty habit of saying out loud what we think. But it is true, no? Shalya spends more on clothing than the virgins of my court.’

Shishupal noted that Kalyavan was not exaggerating. Shalya’s dark blue brocade robe had a score of golden swans embroidered on it. A cloth-of-gold half cape was casually flung open over one shoulder and fastened with a glittering sapphire brooch. ‘There are far worse crimes,’ Shalya retorted. ‘Like heading to battle in skirts, or to dinner in a saree.’

‘You Riverlanders can hardly hope to understand fashion,’ Kalyavan said, his lips curled in scorn. With haughty disdain he returned his gaze to Jarasandh. ‘I have wished to meet Your Grace for some time. But I confess I had hoped our meeting would be on a battlefield.’

‘It is never too late for wishes to be fulfilled, Firelord,’ Jarasandh replied, a chill in his deep voice. ‘I do own an arena, as it happens.’