The narrator of the passage thinks that he is fortunate because -

I am a king and I think, a just king. At least that is what my people say. The wise king Vikramaditya, they call me, the good King Vikramaditya. The granaries in my kingdom are bursting with grain, we are at peace with our neighbours and the sweet rain falls when it should, cooling the earth and minds of men. Then why am I, the fortunate king of such a kingdom, slashing my way through this dark and dense forest, which sees no light, either of the sun or of the fifteenth-day moon. No wind visits here and no raindrops fall. Yet the earth beneath my feet is cold and damp. It smells of dead water, of things that rot even before they grow, it stinks of never-ending decay. The darkness is an enemy, it shows me shapes that are shadows and shadows that are trees as thick as the wall of my fort. Large, hanging rings of wet, sticky, furry leaves fall across my face.

I had been brought up to be obedient and I can be obedient when I want to, though my mother would disagree. So I stayed quiet. He began, “I call this story ‘The Princess and the Three Kings’,” he said.

The sun, high in the blue sky, seemed to dim, as he began to tell his story. I smelt the green of dark trees, the moist earth, a dense black night. I was in a place that I didn't know and could hardly see. And yet I wasn’t afraid. I had been here before.

‘Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. When she grew up and it was time for her to marry, her father ....’