Meanwhile, beneath the western wing of the palace, Devyani sat alone in the chamber assigned for her confinement. The room was not cruel. That almost unsettled her more. She had expected damp stone, rusted restraints, darkness meant to degrade. The kind of prison victorious kingdoms reserved for enemy commanders they wished to break slowly.

Instead, the chamber was clean. Small, but clean. A narrow bed rested against one wall beside a wooden table and a single oil lamp. Iron bars crossed the high window where pale moonlight filtered through in thin silver lines. Not a dungeon. A controlled room. A distinction deliberate enough to matter.