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Silence. Jodha knows—the iron pillar is a metaphor for the Mughal war drum, the naubat . Someone is framing her. But the way Akbar looks at her—not as a husband, but as a suspicious emperor—shatters something inside her.

For the first time in months, she smiles—a small, fragile thing. "First lesson," she says. "Weeds grow in silence. So does love, if you let it."

The courtyard is prepared at dusk. The coals glow red. Akbar stands on a raised platform, his face a mask. Ruqaiya smirks behind her veil.

Akbar, swayed by his generals and Ruqaiya’s whispers, declares an ancient Rajput ordeal: Jodha must walk through a narrow corridor of burning coals to prove her innocence. If she emerges unscathed, she is true. If not…

But Moti also finds a single strand of gold thread—unusual, because Jodha uses silk. This thread matches the embroidery of Ruqaiya’s personal shawl.

"I walked through fire for an empire that fears me," she says. "But you, Jalal, could not walk a single step toward me in three months."