15.
The royal court of Dwarka rarely knew silence.
Even during formal assemblies, the sea palace carried movement within its walls—waves crashing endlessly beneath the cliffs below, conches echoing through distant temple corridors, silk banners snapping sharply in the western winds pouring through the open archways overlooking the ocean.
Morning sunlight flooded the vast marble court in molten sheets of gold, spilling across jeweled pillars and polished floors until the entire hall seemed to shimmer beside the sea beyond.
Salted winds curled lazily through the towering carved arches carrying traces of sandalwood incense from the temple shrines below while attendants crossed the court in flowing lines of silk and bronze.
Foreign officials from western trade kingdoms stood assembled near the lower platform dressed in layered robes embroidered with unfamiliar patterns and desert gemstones.
Advisors moved steadily between carved columns carrying sealed scrolls and merchant ledgers while naval commanders discussed shipping routes beside enormous painted maps spread across sandalwood tables.
And at the center of it all sat Krishna.
Effortlessly.
That was the unsettling thing about him.
Nothing around him ever appeared capable of disturbing his ease for long.
Not politics.
Not diplomacy.
Not impossible negotiations between kingdoms one insult away from war.
He sat slightly reclined against the carved royal seat while one hand rested lazily near an open scroll, dark curls shifting softly beneath the sea breeze entering through the arches behind him.
Sunlight caught faintly against the peacock feather resting above his crown while strands of gold embroidery glimmered across the deep blue silk draped loosely over his shoulders.
And despite the endless discussions unfolding around him—
the court still revolved around him naturally.
People looked toward him before speaking.
Ministers relaxed when he smiled.
Even nervous foreign officials visibly steadied whenever Krishna addressed them directly.
He made power feel warm.
That was the dangerous part.
Beside him sat Rukmini, graceful as still water beneath moonlight while quietly reviewing merchant ledgers stacked neatly across the low ivory table before her. Every movement she made carried soft elegance untouched by effort.
Further along the royal platform, Satyabhama looked significantly less patient already.
Jeweled fingers tapped lightly against the carved armrest beside her while one elderly minister continued explaining grain taxation with painful commitment.
"If he says harbor one more time," she murmured beneath her breath, "I may throw myself directly into the ocean."
Rukmini lowered her gaze briefly, hiding a smile.
"You threaten that during every assembly."
"And every assembly tests my devotion to peace."
A low laugh escaped Krishna then.
Soft.
Warm.
Dangerously charming.
The sound alone brightened the atmosphere around him instantly.
One young attendant near the lower court physically forgot what he was carrying for a second before another servant elbowed him back to reality.
Balram saw that happen.
Of course he did.
The elder Yadava prince sat beside Revati further along the elevated platform, one arm resting lazily against the back of his seat while watching the court with the calm amusement of a man permanently entertained by other people.
But lately—
his attention had shifted.
Not toward the officials.
Toward Krishna.
Because something had changed over the last three assemblies.
Tiny things at first.
Easy to miss unless one knew Krishna intimately.
And Balram did.
He had watched Krishna disappear halfway through political discussions countless times before. Once Krishna had escaped an entire diplomatic meeting only to be discovered an hour later near the harbor teaching fishermen's children how to braid flower garlands.
Court bored him.
Not because he lacked intelligence.
But because most political men repeated themselves endlessly while pretending they were profound.
Krishna usually listened politely while mentally wandering somewhere far beyond the palace walls.
Yet ever since the royal guests from Vanga and Hastinapur had arrived—
he had been attentive.
Actually attentive.
He remained seated through full assemblies now.
Asked questions during trade discussions involving eastern routes.
Paused whenever Arjuna mentioned the palace guests.
Listened whenever Vanga entered conversation.
Subtle.
Painfully subtle.
But Balram had practically helped raise him.
He noticed.
And the more he noticed—
the more entertained he became.
Near the lower platform, one foreign minister continued explaining maritime taxation while nervously wiping sweat from his brow beneath the heavy court atmosphere.
Then casually—
the man mentioned eastern shipping routes crossing near Vanga's coastal borders.
Immediately Krishna looked up.
Not dramatically.
Not enough for the court to notice.
But enough.
"What seasonal changes affect those waters during monsoon trade?" he asked smoothly.
The minister nearly stumbled over his own answer trying to respond quickly enough.
Balram's eyes narrowed slightly.
There.
Again.
Beside him, Revati noticed her husband watching Krishna instead of the minister and sighed softly beneath her breath.
"What are you plotting now?"
Balram looked deeply innocent.
A terrible sign.
"Nothing."
"That expression means trouble."
"You wound me."
"You deserve it."
Across the platform Krishna finally dismissed the minister with one easy smile that left the poor man looking ready to dedicate his entire kingdom to Dwarka voluntarily.
Then Krishna leaned back again while sea winds moved softly through the dark curls brushing near his forehead.
For one absent moment—
his gaze drifted toward the western arches overlooking the lower palace courtyards beyond.
Toward the exact direction Devasena and the others had gone earlier that morning.
Balram saw that too.
Oh this was becoming delightful.
Nearby Satyabhama looked moments away from dying of boredom already.
"If another man explains taxation to me," she announced dramatically, "I shall become a criminal."
This time Krishna laughed properly.
Low.
Rich.
Warm enough to melt through tension like sunlight through water.
Several nearby attendants smiled instinctively without even realizing it.
That was the problem with Krishna.
His moods spread.
Balram watched him another moment carefully.
Still listening.
Still attentive.
Still not attempting escape.
Entirely unnatural.
So naturally—
Balram decided to make the situation worse.
"Speaking of suffering," he drawled lazily while lifting his goblet, "Arjuna appears entirely ruined."
There.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Krishna's attention sharpened immediately.
Not outwardly enough for the court to notice.
But enough.
Enough that Balram almost laughed.
Revati noticed too.
And suddenly she understood exactly what her husband was doing.
Oh no.
Satyabhama straightened instantly, interest replacing boredom at once.
"Ruined by what?"
Balram took his time answering.
"Princess Devasena."
The name drifted smoothly through the glowing court.
Krishna lowered the scroll in his hand slightly.
Interesting.
"The Vanga princess?" Satyabhama asked immediately.
"The very same."
Across the platform Krishna said nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
But he was listening now in the dangerous way he listened during military strategy.
Calm.
Focused.
Too quiet.
Balram nearly smiled into his goblet.
"Parth forgot how walking works this morning," he continued pleasantly.
That finally earned him another soft laugh from Krishna.
Not loud.
Just enough.
Enough to warm the atmosphere around him instantly.
Satyabhama pointed accusingly toward Krishna.
"You already knew about this."
Krishna looked entirely unbothered.
"Arjuna lacks subtlety."
"That," Rukmini admitted calmly while closing one of the ledgers before her, "is painfully true."
Balram leaned back comfortably.
"He stopped in the middle of the courtyard merely because she looked at him."
Krishna's brows lifted slightly.
"Only looked at him?"
"That was enough."
And for the briefest second—
something unreadable flickered across Krishna's face.
Not jealousy.
Not even attraction yet.
Something quieter.
Curiosity touched with amusement.
Like he was constructing an image in his mind without permission.
And somehow—
that expression unsettled Revati more than open interest would have.
Because Krishna rarely became intrigued slowly.
Usually he simply knew things.
But this—
this looked like attention unfolding in real time.
"It indeed is time to meet her, Don't you think? Bhama asked Rukmini , who nodded with slight smile.