However swift-footed Poonguzhali might be, could she ever compete with a spear hurled from above? Before she could leap to her aunt Mandakini’s side, the spear had already plunged into her aunt’s shoulder. With a dreadful cry of “Veeel!” Mandakini fell to the ground. At that very moment, cries of anguish burst forth from every throat in the room.

Just like Poonguzhali, the others too rushed toward the queen who had collapsed on the floor. At that instant, a loud commotion was heard from the upper floor. Several earthen pots were hurled down in all directions.

One of those pots fell upon the lamp burning brightly near the Emperor, dousing its flame. Darkness immediately enveloped the room. For a while, confusion reigned in that royal chamber and in the long corridors surrounding it. The hurried, frantic footsteps of people running to and fro echoed everywhere.

“Light! Bring a light!” thundered the voice of Chinna Pazhuvettarayar.

“Ah! Alas!” came a woman’s anguished cry. It sounded like the voice of the Maharani, and at that, everyone’s heart skipped a beat and their bodies trembled. Amidst all this chaos, Poonguzhali ran, guided by memory, to the spot where her aunt Mandakini had fallen. She realized that someone had already lifted her aunt and placed her on their lap.

A heart-rending sob and the sound of weeping reached Poonguzhali’s ears.

Near the threshold, Chinna Pazhuvettarayar shouted, “Who is that? Don’t run! Stop!”

Poonguzhali guessed who the fleeing person might be. At that moment, two nursemaids entered the room carrying lamps.

The scene revealed in the lamplight was one no one could have ever anticipated. For three years, the Emperor—Sundara Chola, who had lost all strength in his legs and had not been able to stand—had gotten down from his bed and walked over to sit beside Mandakini. The prince was by his side. In Mandakini’s shoulder... Blood was dripping from the tip of the spear that had pierced through and emerged on the other side. Near the bed where the Emperor lay, the daughter of Malayaman, Vanamadevi, was found. Beside her, on the pillow where the Emperor had rested his head, a sharp dagger was embedded.

When the lamp was brought, the Maharani glanced at the bed in horror, and with eyes brimming with immeasurable astonishment, she saw the Emperor sitting on the floor. At that moment, Ponniyin Selvan gently lifted Mandakini’s head and placed it on the Emperor’s lap. Tears streamed in torrents from Prince Arulmozhi Varman’s eyes. The Emperor, too, was weeping uncontrollably, sobs racking his body.

Poonkuzhali took in all this with a single glance. In the very next moment, she pieced together and understood, by intuition, all that had transpired there. The one who had thrown the spear from above had noticed that the mute queen had intercepted it. Immediately, he had thrown down the plates and vessels from above, extinguished the lamp, and plunged the room into darkness.

In that sudden darkness, he had leapt down, thinking the Emperor