“Your mother will cry and blame her husband, her naseeb, her God, but you mustn’t take notice of her wails and complaints.”
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An arrow sliced through the air and hit the wooden bird in the eye, knocking it off its perch.
They all turned to the source. Dronacharya’s heart stilled when he glimpsed the warrior fluttering pink robes striding towards them.
A stunningly young woman, her skin the colour of tree bark, drew the eyes of every one of the prince.