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Rudra was the love of my life, and I was his, until I discovered that everything was just a game.

Emotions and blood share an eternal link, where the vehemence of emotions flows as thickly as blood through our veins.

Mine was love—eternal, everlasting love—and his was revenge—deadly, ghastly revenge.

The two months during which I was acquainted with every ounce of his affection were the most heavenly of my life.

I was drenched—completely soaked in the ocean of his love to the extent that I devoted myself entirely to him.

In a way, the title of Princess, daughter of King Rajvardhan and Queen Abhishree, and pride of Mahabalesgarh didn’t matter to me.

I offered every piece of myself to him on that particular night.

His love had me surrendered to the point that I forgot marrying him would be deemed a sin in the eyes of the people.

The night was long, eventful, and exhausting, and I realized by the state I found myself in the morning—stripped bare, broken like my bangles, and my hair disheveled like the bed.

And I wasn’t the only witness in the room.

The whole empire knew what had happened between him and me.

My family was thunderstruck, and I was devastated to find his absence and only a letter the next day.

“A scar your family gave to mine, and a scar I give back to yours.”

I was shaken to the very soul.

Everything was just a quest for revenge.

I was flooded with tears for weeks.

I couldn’t believe I had done that.

How could I have let myself delve so deeply into him that I didn’t think, even once, about my family and its esteem?

He ruined me, my life, and my family’s honor.

Women are treated as delicate flowers when it comes to a family’s pride, and he simply set it aflame in the name of vengeance.

But this wasn’t the end.

Not for me.

I decided to extend the invitation for my Swayamvar to the King of Suryagarh, his uncle—an eighty-year-old man in search of a young bride for an heir to the throne, and to taste his food.

The revenge that burns for Rudra.