She's like a silent storm, her bare feet make no sound as she tours the room for the eleventh time. Khilji feels the waves rising high with every step Padmavati takes and he wonders when they'll crash down on him.

"What is it that you are doing? A prayer?"

Padmavati glares at him, trying not to look too annoyed. It's a prayer indeed. She prays for a way out of this trip to Malwa, which will take two months at least. She thinks she is almost three months old pregnant now. It will be very difficult to hide her five months old belly, if not impossible.

"Why do we have to go?" She asks.

Khilji steps closer to her, opening his arms. Padmavati can't find the will to step back but looks at him with wide eyes.

"What a beauty..." He says, reaching out for her hair. He wraps a lock of hair around his finger and brings it to his nose, inhaling her scent.

Padmavati is shaken to the core, seeing his eyes darken with lust. She can almost smell his desire to claim her right here and now.

She feels intimated just by his stare, it is scary and uncomfortable. But there is something she can't find the words to describe in her mind, being desired in such a strong way... Does not feel bad. It makes her feel powerful, unlike her intimate moments with Ratan. Everytime he touched her, Ratan's arms were so warm and welcoming that her knees would weaken in surrender. The world of love they lived in was small, home-like and most importantly theirs.

When Khilji looks at her this way, she feels the earth moving, winds blowing, rivers flowing into the sea and waves crashing to the beach. She feels the world is great and hers to conquer, when Alauddin Khilji, the man who has India under his rule, looks at her like he is ready to fight the world for her.

She answers her own question in a low voice, looking at him in the eyes. "You want to know if the prediction is true."

Khilji laughs loudly, letting go of her hair. "I already know that it is true, Padmavati."

"I want you to see it, too." He walks to the table where his signature and letters stand.

He lays a leather map on the table, wandering his hand on it. He pinches the cut on his neck, making the fresh wound bleed again. The blood from Khilji's wound, drips to the center of India and travels through the thin trails on the leather map. He swipes his hand over the map, colouring it in red completely. "With this wound you gave me, I'll colour the world in red, until it's no one else's but mine."

Padmavati knew many men who are deeply passionate to conquer. They all had a motivation whether it's a good or an evil one. Most of them were eager to bring justice, to save and protect their people, they believed in the good. She has also seen the ones who follow sinful desires because of their bad life experiences, animalistic upbringings and frustrations. Hence, she didn't believe that a human being can have such demonic nature, there had to be a reason. A reason not to justify the evilness, but to point a finger at, at least.

This belief of hers, dragged her into a deep curiousity as she watched Alauddin's dark, kohl lined eyes wander around the map. His hands were shaking in excitement at his sides when he raised his head to look at Padmavati.

He had the overwhelming desire to be the possessor of things. To be the only possessor of things, the one who owns the beauty on earth... The fuel of his passion was nothing but himself, there was fire, but no smoke. And this terrified her deeply.

Why? Padmavati couldn't help but question him out loud. "Why do you want this world so desperately?"

"You have to come with me to see why." He said, coming back to next to her.

Padmavati's heartbeat was banging louder in her ears with each step he took. "What if I don't want to?" She said, stepping back.

He grabbed her beige dupatta, taking it off from her and revealing her chest. He pressed it on to his wound which is still bleeding, without breaking the eye contact.

"I'll make you want it."

***

Malika embroiders a piece of white fabric with golden thread, sewing on little beads, creating a floral pattern out of imagination. She has always been good at embroidery and loved making it for loved ones. Now, adorning this dress for her own child excites her, as she imagines a beautiful baby girl with dark hair and light skin wearing it.

She's not sure if Alauddin would like to have a daughter instead of a boy he can turn into himself. It's known that almost all women pray to give birth to a boy, whether he will be an heir to an empire or not, but the thought of a daughter makes whatever's left of her soul happy.

Ila comes into her room with an empty tray to collect what's left from Malika's little breakfast. Her pregnancy affected her appetite quite badly, she barely eats anything. It's hard to tell if it's only the pregnancy causing this problem or having an husband like Alauddin Khilji.

She waits by Mehrunisa's side for her command to leave, eyeing the untouched food on plates with a worried expression.

"What are you waiting for?" She asks, her brows furrowed with attention to her work.

The maid keeps silent, waiting for her to finish the stitch.

Mehrunisa puts away her work, growing impatient. "Talk now." She huffs.

"Didn't you like the food, Malika? I can bring you something else."

Mehrunisa rolls her eyes, taking the cloth in her hands again. "I don't want anything else."

"But you must eat, for the baby, Malika." Ila speaks, trying not to sound too assertive.

"Just bring me milk, then." She says, analyzing the work she did on fabric closely. Her eyes are itchy and dry from sleeplessness. Her sight is slightly blurry, so she keeps stabbing the needle on to her fingers. It does not even sting, the voices in her head so loud. "And something that will help me see what I'm doing here." She shakes the fabric in the air.

Ila nods, still not leaving the spot. She wants to ask about Padmavati. It's been almost a day since she was locked up in there. Khilji went in there in the morning and now the afternoon prayer call is about to be heard. No one else got in or got out, not even a maid to serve food. She's worried about Padmavati and wonders if she went too far by telling her to drop her guard a little. What if she couldn't read Khilji well enough?

"Say it." Mehrunisa talks suddenly, taking her out of thoughts. "You look like you won't leave without telling me what you are keeping in right now."

"I am worried about Padmavati." She blurts out honestly. It seemed like she had no other choice.

Malika raises her eyebrows, looking up to Ila's face. "Well, who isn't?"

"No one went into the room since last night. It's almost time for afternoon prayer. Should I go and ask if-"

"Don't." Malika interrupts. "Sultan doesn't want to be disturbed when he is with his harem."

"But I thought-" She stutters, remembering what Rani Padmavati told her about Mehrunisa last night.

"You are not going to tell me that you came all the way here without hearing a single story about my husband, are you? " Mehrunisa says casually, like Alauddin stories were fairy tales.

Ila bows her head, as if she was ashamed. "Forgive me if I crossed my line, Malika. There are many stories, it's hard to know which ones are true."

"Hardest ones to believe. Those are the true ones." She gets up from the cushion and runs her hands through her dress, flattening the fabric. "I wish Kafur was here to tell you all of them." She says, facing Ila. "He is very strange. The way he acts used to give me chills when Khilji brought him here for the first time. He can be very entertaining when you get used to him, though."

Then, she starts talking about how strange she finds Alauddin's relationship with Kafur and how it becomes a small detail when you look at all the inconceivable things he did. To Ila, Malika seems like she's trying to get things out of her chest but during the whole talk, she also realizes that there is no emotion left in Mehrunisa other than excitement for her child. The only time her eyes lit up was the moment she was telling about the dress she's making. Other than that, she looked defeated, tired and empty, like a part of her was lost completely.

"Your body needs to rest, Malika." Ila says, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. She takes off her juttis, the heavy kaftan she is wearing and her head jewelleries.

Mehrunisa does not object, yet she's touched by her caring approach. She lays in bed, hoping that sleep might turn down the voices in her head.

"I'll be back with your milk, Malika. Try to rest."

***

Ila inhales deeply, resting against the door after being finally done with taking care of Mehrunisa and making sure she's asleep.

She sees a bunch of maids carrying crates out of harem in a hurry. She feels something is odd and hopes that it doesn't include Padmavati.

"What are all these for?" She asks, starting walk along with them.

"Khilji is going back to Malwa." A girl answers.

Ila closes her eyes in relief, thinking that this will be the perfect opportunity to take Padmavati home, without the risk of getting caught by Khilji.

"When?"

"In three days. He is taking Padmavati with him, too. Poor woman, should have run into the fire faster, like Khilji said."

Ila squeezes her fists, hiding her anger to this gauche comment of the elderly maid.

One of the girls chuckles, however, finding her comment ironic. "For whom are you carrying these silk fabrics and crates of pure gold then? Did Sultan give these to you? Or to the poor Padmavati?"

Other younger girls supress their laughter as the elder maid blushes with anger, giving them a death stare.

"Allah, she got angry!" The girl lets out a loud laughter.

The elderly woman shoves the basket full of silk fabrics and perfume bottles into Ila's chest without looking at her. She whines with sudden pain and the woman walks away without saying a word.

Ila looks at the girls blankly, waiting for an explanation of what just happened.

"She's always like this. You'll get used to it."

Ila nods, not knowing what to say.

"Where do I take this?" She asks, pointing the basket she's holding.

"Oh... To the tailor's room. Sultan wanted all of these to be ready for Padmavati."

Ila's gaze was fixed to the red, embriodered fabric in the basket that looks like a wedding dress as she carried it to where it's going to be prepared for Padmavati.

***

Malika is woken up by the loud voice and laughters of Khilji, like a beginning of a nightmare. She sees the reflection of the sunset on her pier mirror when she sits up on the bed, her head feeling heavy and her body unrested. She wants to go back to sleep, but her stomach growls in rejection.

She gets up from bed, dragging her feet around the room, searching for the food Ila might have brought. Evening call to prayer is being made and she has not eaten anything since yesterday, she feels like she could eat a whole lamb right now.

She covers her hair with a red shawl and goes out to the harem corridor to tell someone to bring food, but comes across something that causes her apetite to vanish completely.

Khilji's voice from the distance begins to clear and Mehrunisa recognizes the shameless tune of his talk, her imagination starts to build up many scenarios related to what she is about to see right in the moment, but when he enters the hall with Padmavati on his side like they are nothing but one, it's wasn't what Malika is expecting.

Padmavati wears a velvet, dark green, heavily embroidered dupatta on her head that covers her chest and arms. Khilji wears a kaftan from the same fabric that fits his broad shoulders perfectly as he protectively holds out his arm behind Padmavati and leads her to the throne.

Mehrunisa's body reacts to what her eyes see instantly, shaking her head to toe, blurring her vision away from the torturous view of them together.She doesn't get a chance to see the lost expression on Padmavati's face when Khilji forces her to sit on the throne.

He dances, opening his arms wide and murmuring a love song. He calls for the musicians of palace a few moments later, to take the fun a bit further. They quickly settle down behind a curtain and start to play the melodious song Khilji was trying to sing earlier. He loses himself to the music and dances passionately in front of Padmavati, as if entertaining her is his only goal in this life.

Mehrunisa watches the whole thing and everything seems to be a blur other than Padmavati's smile that arrives like sunshine. His mad happiness, the fact that he is doing this in front of people, his sincerity and love for her... All that he had done aside, what hits Mehrunisa is her smile. She sits there, giving up the fight against his wickedness and enjoying the spectacle.

The beauty of her is undiscussable, she lights up the hall more than a million chandeliers. Isn't she too bright to look at? Mehrunisa thinks as her vision becomes a white light. She knows it is her turn to let go of the hope now.

Right in the moment she does, indeed, let go of her hope and realizes what a burden it was.