Chapter 66 The Shackles of Truth
The court was still buzzing when Sana’s voice faded, her last words trembling through the vast marble chamber like a haunting bell. Some had laughed at her claim. Some had spat at her feet. A few — just a few — had looked away in unease, their silence betraying a whisper of doubt.
But Hatim had not moved. He had stood there, jaw clenched, fists coiled at his side, his gaze fixed on Sana as if he were staring into a mirror that refused to tell him the truth.
Now, hours later, the court had emptied. Night had descended upon the palace. The storms outside lashed against the stained-glass windows as if the heavens themselves demanded justice.
King Hatim sat in his chamber, crown discarded on the table, wine untouched beside him. He had not changed out of his ceremonial robes; the golden embroidery felt like shackles biting into his skin. His hands were pressed to his temples as if he could push back the chaos roaring in his mind.
Sana’s words echoed, clawing at him:
> “I am the daughter of Chandini and Aarav.”
Impossible. Treason. Madness.
And yet… her voice had carried something. Not desperation, not trickery, but conviction. A conviction that unsettled him more than he dared admit.
He shut his eyes, and for the briefest second, he saw her mother — no, his mother — Queen Roshni. The woman who had raised him, taught him, shielded him. Could she truly be what Sana claimed? A murderer?
The thought alone felt like blasphemy.
A knock at the door shattered his spiraling silence.
“Enter,” he said, his voice hoarse.
The heavy doors creaked open, and Queen Roshni herself swept inside. She wore no crown, no jewels — only a dark gown, plain yet regal. But her face… her face was streaked with tears.
“My son,” she whispered, rushing to him with trembling arms. “Oh, my child, my pride, my only reason to live…”
Hatim rose to his feet instantly, instinct overriding doubt. “Mother, why do you cry?”
She collapsed into his chest, sobbing as though the world had broken her in two. Her perfume — lilies and sandalwood — filled his senses, the same scent that had comforted him as a boy when nightmares had plagued his sleep.
“All I have done… all I have sacrificed… was for you, Hatim. For Chandlok. For this kingdom. And yet—” her voice broke into sobs, “—yet they let that… that girl shame me in front of my people. Call me a traitor, a murderer. She dares to spit on my name. And you—” she lifted her face, her eyes wet and piercing, “—you stood there and let her!”
Hatim flinched as though struck. “I… I did not defend her either.”
“Not defend her?” Roshni’s voice cracked into something sharper, a mother’s fury laced with sorrow.
“Is that enough, Hatim? To stand in silence while a serpent poisons your people with lies? I gave up my crown’s freedom, my womanhood, my very soul so that Chandlok could thrive.
I carried this kingdom when others would have let it fall!
And now… now I am branded a monster by a girl of no name, no honor — a servant’s blood! ”
Hatim’s throat tightened. “Mother… please, don’t say that. You are—”
“What am I, Hatim?” Roshni’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, but beneath the glisten there was fire. “What am I, if even my own son will not raise his voice when I am spat upon?”
Hatim staggered back, caught between duty and love.
He wanted to believe her, to believe that the tears staining her cheeks were born of truth and not manipulation.
He wanted to believe the woman who had nurtured him, who had taught him loyalty, who had placed the weight of Chandlok’s crown on his head.
But Sana’s trembling hands as she read Aarav’s letter haunted him. The words had carried something raw. Something too human to be forged.
Confusion knotted inside him until he could barely breathe.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Hatim admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Roshni froze. And then, slowly, she stepped back, her sorrow sharpening into something colder, more deliberate.
“You don’t know?” she repeated, her voice trembling with controlled rage. “You don’t know if your mother is a liar? If your mother is a murderer?”
Hatim’s silence was answer enough.
Roshni’s face crumbled. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing again — softer this time, more fragile, as though she were breaking before his eyes.
Hatim’s heart lurched. He rushed forward, seizing her wrists, lowering them. “Mother, please… I did not mean—”
“I gave you everything,” she whispered brokenly. “And in return, I am given doubt. Doubt, from my own blood.”
“No, no, I swear to you—” Hatim’s chest heaved. He pulled her into an embrace, desperation in every line of his body. “I do not doubt you. Forgive me, Mother. Forgive me.”
Roshni let herself be held. Slowly, her sobs faded into silence, though her eyes over Hatim’s shoulder glittered with triumph unseen.
When she pulled away, she cupped his face gently, like she had when he was a boy. “Then show me, Hatim. Prove it. Do not let that girl poison our kingdom. End this mockery before it destroys us all.”
Hatim’s breath shuddered. His mind screamed in chaos, but his heart — his heart longed to ease her pain.
He bowed his head. “I will. I’ll silence her. For you.”
Roshni smiled through false tears, pressing her lips to his forehead. “My son. My king.”
And in that moment, Hatim sealed Sana’s fate.
---
The iron doors of the dungeon slammed shut with a thunder that rattled the stone walls. Torches crackled faintly, shadows writhing like serpents on the damp floor. The air stank of rust, mildew, and despair — a place designed not for the guilty, but for the silenced.
Sana lay against the cold ground, her wrists bound in heavy chains that bruised her skin. But her spirit — oh, her spirit burned brighter than the torches.
Above her, guards stood stiffly, avoiding her gaze. None dared speak. Their orders had come directly from Prince Hatim himself.
And then he arrived.
The iron gate screeched open, and Hatim stepped inside. His jaw was set like stone, but his eyes betrayed something else — something fragile beneath the fury. His princely robes seemed out of place here, brushing against the filth of the dungeon floor, but he didn’t care.
He walked slowly toward her, each step echoing like a drumbeat in Sana’s chest.
Sana lifted her head. “So,” she whispered, voice hoarse but steady, “the mighty King Hatim has come to see the criminal he chained.”
Hatim’s nostrils flared. “You mock justice when you stand there, claiming blood that is not yours. You spit lies about my mother, about our kingdom. What choice did you leave me, Sana?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Justice? You think these chains are justice? No, Hatim. They’re fear. Your mother’s fear. And now, yours.”
Hatim’s hand clenched at his side. He wanted to shout, to silence her — but the words lodged in his throat. “Enough,” he said, though the word cracked halfway through. “You dishonor yourself.”
Sana’s eyes glistened with tears, but they did not fall. She leaned forward, the clinking of her chains sharp in the silence.
“No, Hatim,” she whispered, voice trembling with fury. “It is your mother who dishonors this kingdom. Your mother… who murdered my mother.”
Hatim froze. His breath caught. He had expected lies, venom, curses — but not this raw, bleeding truth thrown into his chest.
“Stop.” His voice was low, dangerous.
But Sana did not stop. Her pain broke free like a storm.
“She killed Chandini, my mother ” Her scream echoed through the stone chamber, raw enough to peel the walls apart. “And worse — worse than that —”
Her voice broke, but she forced the words through gritted teeth.
“— YOUR MOTHER MURDERED YOUR UNBORN CHILD!”
The dungeon fell into silence so deep, even the torches seemed to hold their flames still.
Hatim staggered back as though struck by a blade. His chest heaved, his eyes wide, blood draining from his face.
“What… what did you say?” His voice was barely a whisper now.
Sana’s chains rattled as she rose shakily to her feet, eyes blazing through tears. “Yes you heard it right, your mother, the great Queen Roshni who sacrificed everything for the Chandlok had killed her own son's unborn child.”
Hatim pressed a hand to the wall, struggling to steady himself. The world tilted violently around him. He had defended his mother’s crown, her honor, her every decision — and now this single confession cracked the ground beneath him.
“No…” His whisper was broken. “You’re lying. You must be lying.”
Sana shook her head, her tears finally spilling, streaking down her cheeks like rivers of grief. “I wish I was. Stars know, I wish I was. But the truth burns whether you want it or not. And it will burn through you, Hatim, until you stop hiding behind her lies.”
Hatim’s throat worked, but no words came. His entire body trembled, torn between loyalty and something deeper — something that had always lingered when he looked at Sana. A thread he had tried to cut, but which tied them together still.
The guards shifted uneasily, glancing between them. The silence was unbearable, alive, like the kingdom itself held its breath.
Finally, Hatim forced himself to speak. His voice was ragged, strangled.
“Leave us,” he told the guards.
The men hesitated.
“NOW!” Hatim roared, the sound raw enough to make even the iron bars shudder.
The guards bowed quickly and fled, leaving only the two of them in the suffocating dark.
Hatim’s chest rose and fell heavily. He looked at Sana as if seeing her for the first time, his lips trembling, words failing him.
Sana, bound in chains, stood straighter than ever, her fire undimmed.
The silence between them was no longer emptiness. It was war. It was love. It was truth clawing its way into the heart of a prince who no longer knew if he was son or stranger.
Finally Hatim broke the silence, " Tell me everything. I will listen each and every word."
Sana's voice came softer now," Hatim I know you will listen but will you believe.
Will you believe if I say your mother was the one who had tortured me in your absence.
Will you believe If I say the great Queen Roshni threw me out of the Chandlok.
Will you believe if I say I wanted to come back to you.
Will you believe if I say I was pregnant with your child.
" Her voice grew louder and louder with every word as if everything came from her mouth was stinging," Will you believe if I say your mother killed our last symbol of love even before it is born. Tell me Hatim will you believe."
It was as if earth had disappeared from under his feet . He could no longer stand there. He ran , ran away from Sana , away from truth, away from his heart which was no longer beating.
Sana just stood there seeing him going whispering to herself, "I just hope Hatim you will believe".
Meanwhile from the dark corners of the dungeon, the shadow watching saying the ," You have done sana, my child what you can do, now it's time for Hatim to know himself properly and and serve the justice ".
And with this the shadow, Hatim and the hope in Sana's eyes vanished.