He took her hand and led her out into the garden, where all his guards and his right-hand man were standing in a straight, disciplined line. As Vani’s eyes moved over them, a flicker of fear ran through her. She instinctively stepped behind Vidyut, peeking from his shoulder. Vidyut noticed and, secretly, he liked it — the way she knew she had him to protect her from anything. Meekly, she whispered, “Who are they all?” Vidyut chuckled and then said curtly, “BOW DOWN, EVERYONE. SHE IS THE OWNER OF YOUR BOSS.” Vani froze at his words, stunned. She looked up at him, but he simply took her hands and guided her to stand in front of him. Her dupatta had slipped over her head, framing her delicate face, still shocked and unsure. One by one, the men bowed before her. Vani gasped and stumbled backward, but Vidyut’s hand steadied her at her waist. Before she could process what was happening, Vidyut gestured to Malvika to send the children inside. The guards stepped aside, revealing a disturbing scene. Several women were dancing, but at the center was one woman unlike the rest — she danced barefoot on burning coal, her body engulfed in flames, yet she kept moving as if bound to some unseen rhythm. Horrified, Vani turned her face toward his chest and clung to Vidyut’s chest and whispered fearfully, “Why is she dancing like this?” Vidyut’s gaze stayed cold. In truth, he had planned to tell her that during the hawan, the firewood had not been wood at all — but the bones of the principal who had failed to protect her in his absence. And the dancer was vaishya who had dared to slap her; he had her lips stitched shut so she could not speak, and shackled her feet to the burning coal until she would burn to death. But he decided against telling her — not tonight. She would be frightened of him. Instead, he stroked her hair and said lightly, “It’s nothing, baby. Just a professional dancer.”