Chapter 6 Amber Meets Blue
Sana sat on the cold stone floor of her tiny chamber, her back pressed against the wall, arms hugging her knees tightly as if trying to hold herself together. The moonlight filtered in through the window, silver and quiet, catching the shimmer of tears on her cheeks.
> "I don’t even know who I am..." "Why am I even here?" "Why didn’t she ever tell me?"
She didn’t know her mother. She didn’t have any magical powers like the others in Chandlok. And because of that, she was labeled—cursed, impure, a shadow in a world of radiant stars. That thought alone broke something inside her every day.
With those thoughts lingering in her heart, Sana cried herself to sleep, her sobs swallowed by the stillness of the night.
---
The sun rose, and with it, her duty. Sana stood before the small mirror, tying her hair into a low bun. She adjusted her veil carefully, ensuring not a strand of hair or a glimpse of her face was visible. She had learned to live unseen.
Today, she would be serving Prince Hatim.
She didn’t know him personally, but she had seen him from afar—fierce, restless, angry. Yet something deep inside her believed that he wasn’t cruel. Just lost.
---
In the royal study, Hatim was livid.
Books lay scattered across the floor. He paced the room like a storm, his hands clenched, his eyes glowing brighter with irritation.
> “'The soul does not burn in fire nor drown in water…'”
He repeated the line aloud from the ancient scroll.
> “What in the name of Chandlok does that even mean?!”
With a frustrated growl, he hurled the book to the ground. Glass from a broken lamp had scattered across the marble floor, and the air was heavy with heat and tension.
Just then—chhan chhan chhan—the delicate sound of anklets approached.
He turned sharply.
Amber eyes met ocean blue.
The girl in front of him was cloaked in a green veil, her hands folded respectfully, yet something in her gaze held strength.
“W-what do you want?” he asked, his voice gravelly from suppressed rage.
Sana knelt quietly, beginning to gather the scattered pages.
> “The verse,” she said softly. “It means the soul is eternal. It can’t be destroyed. Not by fire, not by water.”
Hatim paused. His anger faltered. “You can read Sanskrit?”
> “A little,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the scrolls.
She extended the book to him, but as she stepped forward, she unknowingly neared a shard of glass.
“Watch out—!”
Without thinking, Hatim reached out and pulled her away.
In the rush, she lost balance.
They both fell to the floor.
Papers swirled around them like feathers in the wind. For a moment, everything was silent—only their breaths, too close, too fast.
Hatim’s arms were still around her.
Her veil stayed in place, but he could see those amber eyes—wide, startled, beautiful.
The flutter of wings outside the window broke the trance.
He coughed and looked away quickly. “W-What’s your name?”
> “Sana,” she answered, standing and adjusting her clothes. “I work in the kitchens.”
Hatim frowned slightly. “Why are you always veiled?”
> “The Queen ordered it.”
“I want to see your face.”
She lowered her head. “I’m not allowed, Your Highness.”
A pause.
Then Hatim sighed. “Very well. You’re dismissed.”
Sana left quickly, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
---
That night, Sana touched her cheeks as she sat on her cot. Her heart was still racing.
> “Why do I feel this way?” she whispered. “It’s wrong.”
But no matter how many times she repeated it, her heart didn’t listen.
---
Days turned into weeks.
Hatim, once a tempest, had become quieter. Softer.
The palace buzzed with whispers:
> “The prince hasn’t broken anything in days.” “He… he smiled. Did you see?” “That veiled maid… she’s changed him.”
No one knew her name. Only that when she walked past, the prince’s gaze always followed.
He tried many times to see her face.
Once, he asked if she would remove her veil in the dark.
She had laughed softly and said, “Darkness reveals more than it hides.”
He didn’t understand it fully, but it made his chest feel warm.
---
Roshni watched all of this with narrowed eyes. Her once-icy heart trembled at the sight of her son smiling.
> “She’s poisoning him,” she whispered to herself. “She’s taking him away from me.”
That night, she summoned Sana to the rose garden.
“You’re growing bold,” Roshni snapped. “Don’t forget your place.”
Sana bowed low. “I serve as you command, Your Highness.”
“Liar.” Roshni raised her hand and slapped her hard. “Do you think I don’t see the way he looks at you? You’re filth. A cursed child. You should have never been born.”
Sana staggered but didn’t cry.
> “I never asked to be born, my Queen.”
Wrong answer.
Roshni’s hand rose again—but a deep voice cut through the silence.
“That’s enough.”
Hatim stood at the garden gate, his blue eyes burning with fury.
“Touch her again,” he said, “and you’ll lose your right to call me son.”
Roshni’s face paled. “You… you would stand against me?”
“For her?”
“For what’s right,” he said, walking toward Sana.
He took her hand, gently, and turned to leave.
That night, in the shadows of the corridor, Sana whispered, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
> “And let her hit you again?” he said, frowning. “Never.”
His fingers lingered on hers.
Neither of them said the word.
But something had begun. And there was no turning back now.