A while later, the sun had climbed higher, turning the air thick and golden. Karna stepped out of his guest chamber feeling cleaner, lighter. He had scrubbed the last grains of arena sand from his arms and chest, letting cool water run over his skin until the ache in his muscles dulled to a quiet hum. Now he wore a fresh white dhoti, simple and crisp, the cloth falling straight against his legs. Before leaving the room he had paused at the small shrine in the corner, pressed his palms together, and whispered a short prayer to Mahadeva.
"Thank you for the clarity in the fight," he murmured. "And for letting me see the man behind the king."
The words felt right on his tongue. Then he walked through the cool stone corridors to the shaded pavilion where the midday meal waited.
