Page 23

I, along with a group of attendants, went to the dining area to serve lunch to the royal guests.

Since it was the first official gathering of the kings of all the neighbouring states after his claim to the throne, we prepared a royal feast with utmost effort and dedication to welcome them.

It was necessary for our kingdom in terms of bilateral agreements and diplomacy between these states.

If these kings hadn't approved him as the new king, our empire might have faced difficulties in imposing a new ruling system and amending laws to continue operating.

I had worn plain clothes, contrary to what the royals wear.

I was devastated the moment I learnt about his celibacy.

He never mentioned it to me, never once referred to it.

I was furious, but mostly hurt because I couldn't bear to see him suffering.

My husband—sleeping on the floor, doing all his work, and then ruling a kingdom—I couldn’t tolerate that.

I couldn’t stand seeing him have normal food, be a king, and work hard to stay fit.

I couldn’t endure seeing my man stay away from me.

It felt as if I had made a wrong decision about pursuing him.

Maybe I got in his way.

I wouldn't have done that if I had known what he was going through to achieve his goals.

When I found out about his controlling period, I didn't have the heart to enjoy the privileges of being a queen, a royal.

No, it wasn't to get his attention or prove anything.

It was more that I was hurt to know that my man, my husband, was sacrificing a lot to succeed in his plans.

As his partner, it was my right and responsibility to stand beside him in all his good and bad times.

I replaced my wedding bangles with simple green ones and detached myself from everything that was a part of royalty.

Holding the huge curry bowl, I entered the dining hall with the other ladies.

All the guests were seated on floor cushions, their legs crossed, and wooden bajots placed before them for serving food.

Each of them was busy interacting and talking.

With my face covered by the veil, I could see him talking to Ranvijay.

Perhaps the sound of our anklets caught their attention because then Agastya announced, “Lunch is here.”

The flavorful aroma of food was probably so imminent that it brought a smile to everyone's face.

“Ranaji, yadi aapki aagyaa ho to kya hum bhojan parosein?”

(Ranaji, if you allow, may we serve food?) An attendee, with her head bowed down, asked.

“Ji awashya.”

(Yes, sure.) The attendees dispersed and started serving food to each guest individually.

Like every other attendee, I, too, began serving the Gatte curry.

As I walked in his direction, I felt a weird tension rising between us.

His eyes were pinned on my every move.

The room was hushed except for the clattering of the ladles and bowls, which suddenly made me conscious.

The intensity of his gaze on me caused a significant spike in my heart rate, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“What are you doing here?”

he muttered, but I chose not to answer and continued serving the curry.

Suddenly, he held my wrist, and I stopped, inhaling a deep breath.

“, this isn't your place,”

he gritted in a low tone, and I tried to free my hand from his grip without anyone's notice.

“Leave right now,”

he ordered.

“No, I'm a commoner now,”

I whispered in reply.

“I, too, have given up on the nobility and all kinds of pleasures,”

The scowl on his forehead clearly indicated that he didn’t like my words or actions.

“Leave, ,”

I pulled my wrist back from his hold and said, “No.”

I continued serving the food, and once I finished, I moved to a corner to stand with the ladies.

He gestured to start the meal, and everyone began eating.

My eyes were fixated on him, sitting rigidly, hands fisted tightly on his knees.

He didn't touch the food, and I could tell just by his expressions that he didn’t approve of any of it—me serving like an attendant.

His anger was evident on his face.

“Bhaisa, what happened? Why aren't you eating?”

Ranvijay asked him, and he replied with a smile, “I’m fasting today.”

Ranvijay seemed convinced, but I knew better.

First, he was sacrificing everything for the sake of the Kingdom, and now he wasn't even eating.

I had no clue when he had been practising celibacy and why.

When exactly did he start practising that? After our marriage? But he was living like a commoner ever since I knew him.

Practising celibacy is depriving oneself of any pleasure, either sexual or from everyday life.

And I didn't want him to deny himself the enjoyment of these riches and lead a life like a commoner.

He was a king now, and for the well-being of our kingdom, it was only right for him to take care of himself.

He couldn’t just maintain a strict diet and suffer and sacrifice.

I looked at him, still not touching the food.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I rushed out of the dining hall.

The more I tried to get closer to him, the more he pushed me away.

As I recalled the past, I wondered if he willfully kept a distance from me.

Thinking of it, I remembered how he never touched me before that night, and how he never got seduced by me, not once.

He didn't love me.

It meant he was right when he said that I forced him to marry me.

He would've let me marry any man if not for his uncle.

A lone tear trickled down my cheek as it struck me that I had misread everything and that he felt nothing for me.

He never had.

I thought he liked me, but then I found he married me to take revenge on the old king.

I returned to my chamber and let the tears flow freely from my eyes.

“,”

I immediately dabbed away my tears when a familiar voice suddenly caught my ear.

I stood up, looking at Badi Maasa's daughter-in-law entering the chamber.

“Jiji42,”

I smiled immediately, looking at her as she held Hridaan.

“How are you, ?”

She asked.

Taking Hridaan from her hands, I sat on the couch.

“Now I’m happy,”

I playfully answered, tickling him.

I met her on the day she returned from her maternal home.

It was genuinely elating when she gladly agreed to take Hridaan’s responsibility and promised me she’d take the best care of him.

When I found out that she went through three miscarriages and did not have a child of her own, and how her husband died in a war, I didn't have the heart to say no to her.

“I hope he's not troubling you, Jiji,” I said.

“Oh, dear!”

she laughed, saying, “Trust me when I say he is such an adorable kid.

Thank you so much for trusting me with him.

It is like I feel alive again,”

she expressed emotionally, stroking his cheeks lovingly, and I smiled.

“He needed a mother, Jiji.

And now he has you,”

I replied.

We continued our conversation, discussing various topics about Suryagarh’s history.

In the middle of our talk, she mentioned the ninth chamber.

She also added that only the old king had access to it and that he had the key with him.

Rudra would not be considered a king until he got the chamber key.

“But what is in that chamber?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“I don't know; I've never been inside,”

I nodded, pursing my lips.

“,”

His sudden call caught our attention.

“Devarsa,”

Jiji smiled, and we both stood up.

He greeted her and moved closer to me.

Rage was very much palpable on his face.

“I was just leaving,”

Jiji said, and took Hridaan from my hands.

We both bid her adieu as she left the chamber.

In an instant, Rudra grasped my wrist tightly and led me to the bedroom.

Saying I was scared would be an understatement.

I was terrified when he yanked me inside the chamber and slammed the door shut.

Suddenly, he pushed me against the door with my shoulders and asked in an alarmingly angry voice, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

I gulped and narrowed my eyes, trying to comprehend his expression. “Me?”

I raised my brows, and he immediately strangled me by my throat, making me shift on my toes.

“Yes, you.

Why the hell were you serving the guests?”

He spat in immense fury, and I gasped to calm my heart pounding against my chest.

He had caged me between him and the door, and that there was no escape from him had me on edge.

“I was just helping the attendees,”

I stuttered, and he held my nape, pulling me closer.

“You-Are-My-Wife,”

He spoke, emphasising every word, “And so you do not serve any other man.

You are my queen, understand?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, as the proximity was making me dizzy.

“You don't get to tell me what to do, just like I cannot tell you what to do,”

I tried to speak with conviction, but my fear gave me away at the end.

He jerked my face even closer, crashing our chests, and raked his other hand around my waist.

“You have every right to tell me what to do.

You are my wife,” he said.

“Drop this,”

I muttered cautiously.

He frowned in confusion, so I added, “Break this controlling period and live up to the position of the King you are, or I'll do whatever you will do,”

I said in a calm, unwavering tone, looking right into his eyes.

Suddenly, his breathing quickened, and visuals of the previous night sprang into my mind.

My eyes subconsciously fell on his lips.

Lips that sucked my sanity away, driving me to the brink.

I could still feel that sensation, the raw contact of his mouth with my skin.

During the morning bath, I spotted a bruise on my inner thigh.

He stepped back, held my hand, and walked towards the dressing room. “No way,”

He said, dragging me with him.

“Ranaji,”

I held his wrist to stop him.

It was hard for me to keep up with his pace.

He led me to the dressing room, released my hand, which caused me to swivel, and my back collided with the dressing table.

“Change your clothes,”

He menaced, glaring at me.

“Change yours too,”

I said, trying to hold on to myself.

He took heavy strides towards me, towering over my frame, and my lashes batted rapidly in fear.

Placing his palm on the table beside my waist, he warned me in a threatening tone, piercing my gaze with his.

“Strip.”

He commanded.

My heart just dropped in my stomach hearing those words, yet I shook my head. “No,”

Pressing his forehead against mine, he pulled the dupatta off my head from behind and said, “, strip, if you don't want me ripping your clothes off.”

My heart pounded at his words, but I kept my courage intact and retorted to his statement, “If you want me to strip, you will strip, too.”

He clutched my neck and breathed near my ear, “I'm warning you one last time, little wife.

Don't make me tear apart every piece of these clothes and have you begging me to get dressed again.”

His wild breaths turned me weak on my knees, and the tinge of intimidation in his tone churned my insides.

My heightened emotions weighed my lashes down, making me close my eyes in the moment’s relish.

Inhaling heavily, I opened my eyes again.

Looking at him, I shook my head and muttered in a low voice, “Do whatever you want, Ranaji, but I won't let you go through this anymore.

You’re proficient and can do anything with your expertise and capabilities.

You don't need to follow these unnecessary, superstitious beliefs,”

I explained, but he tightened his grip around my neck, making me part my lips.

He was angry and could’ve stripped me naked with the rage flaming in his eyes, yet at the moment, I didn't know what I was anticipating.

I should've been scared, but I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

And when his eyes fell to my heaving chest, it felt as if my heart were clawing its way out.

My nipples perked up the moment his eyes dropped over my breasts, and the plain cotton blouse did no justice to conceal my erect buds.

“Not necessarily everything you believe unnecessary is unnecessary, little princess,”

he bitterly remarked.

Leaning closer, he grabbed the dagger from the table, making me shiver in fright.

I blinked nervously when he took the dagger close to his mouth, removed its sheath with his teeth and spat it on the floor, the sound of which resonated in the eerily silent room.

“Are you going to strip or not?”

He asked in a dangerously low tone.

Hair rose at every inch of my skin when my sight fell on the sharpened blade.

In fear, I reclined back, staring intensely into his eyes to grasp the drift of his emotions.

But it wasn’t easy because there was so much on his face.

It almost seemed blank, making it hard for me to decipher his expressions.

I placed my hand on his chest to calm him down and bring him back to his senses, which I believed he had lost long ago.

“Take your clothes off,”

He threatened again, drawing the dagger along the length of my arm.

Waves of anxiousness ran down my spine when the cold blade’s pointed edge came into contact with my skin.

I shook my head lightly and lowered my eyes to his jawline, unable to hold his fixed gaze.

He moved my hand off his chest with his other hand and pinned both my wrists behind my back in a tight grip.

I gasped heavily in terror, and my chest angled against his.

He stepped closer, pressing himself on me, placing his forehead on mine, which had the back of my head bump against the mirror.

I felt immobile under his clutches.

As he moved the dagger towards my midriff, my brows furrowed in a frenzy.

The chiselled object made me feel things I shouldn't have felt.

And the second, he nudged my abdomen with the cold blade, and my gut wavered terribly.

His hold on my wrists hardened behind me, which caused my blouse to feel tighter, suffocating my bosoms, uplifting them sensually.

“Rudra,”

I breathed.

My breathing turned uneven, and I squeezed my eyes shut as he raked the blade over my skin and moved the tip under the hem of my blouse.

I lost all my strength, because I knew a slight movement and my skin would’ve been ripped apart from the way he had me caged under him.

He rammed the blade through the cloth, and I heard the fabric tearing from my front.

Suddenly, the blouse wasn't clinging to my skin.

I felt goosebumps on my body and opened my eyes.

My face flushed with the heat as his free hand brushed against my collarbones, slowly slipping the sleeves off my shoulders.

My entire form was no longer in my control, my lips wobbled, my legs shook, when his fingers trailed down my cleavage at a painfully slow pace.

“Be my strength, .

If you continue to contradict me like this every time, I swear I'll not be able to do anything.

I've done all this so you do not have to live like a commoner.

And seeing you in these servants’ clothes, you called upon my miseries.”

Inching even closer, he looked intensely into my eyes and stated further,

“You are a queen, not because you were born a princess, you're my queen because I won a fucking kingdom for you,” he said.

He moved his hand from my elbow to my bare midriff, deliberately stroking the outline of my breast.

I forced my lashes close and steadied myself to ask the biggest nightmare of a question.

“Have you slept with anyone before me?”

I asked.

He cupped my right bosom with his left hand, and I felt sensations run through my body at full tilt.

“No,”

he mumbled.

The texture of his palm was rough against my skin; my breast seemed too small in his hand.

“When was the last time you had your release?”

I asked in a trembling tone.

He inhaled a deep breath, and tears collected in my eyes from his silence.

A part of me had a clue, but I didn't want it to be true.

He pressed my breast harder, and the sparks from his touch became unbearable for me.

“Aahh…”

I moaned loudly, closing my eyes, feeling aroused.

He placed a chaste kiss at the back of my ear and I sucked in a deep breath when he caressed my bud with his thumb gently, back and forth.

I was feeling hot, yet a thought lingered in the back of my mind.

“You are going to be my death in bed,”

he muttered against my ear, kneading my bosom hard.

“Ah… Rudra,”

I whimpered, and he moved his cheek close to mine.

His newly grown stubble rubbing against my cheek, his warm breath fanning at the side of my neck—I couldn't stand it all.

The extremity of our intimacy, the fervour between us, made my head drop back.

“,”

He groaned, and leaving my wrists, he sneaked his hand around my waist and shoved me up, sitting me on the dressing table.

With his other hand, he kept fondling my bosom, teasing my erect nipple, pinching it between his fingers.

I immediately coiled my arms around his shoulders as the sudden move took me away.

“When did you last masturbate, Rudra?”

I asked again, my tone faltered, and he pressed his palm roughly against my chest.

“You wouldn't want to hear it,”

he said, pulling the other sleeve of the blouse down and removing it from my body.

Planting a kiss on my neck, he made his way down my collarbone, sucking my skin gently and with his other hand, he cupped my other bosom too.

When he kneaded both my delicate parts, I moaned senselessly near his ear, trying to contain myself in his muscular arms.

“Ah… Rudra,”

He was pushing my limits, making my brain ooze with pleasure and on the spur of the moment, it completely slipped off my mind to get answers from him.

I went crazy when he started playing with my breasts, lightly massaging them.

The wetness surfacing on my core had me rolling my eyes in sensation.

My hair was all over the place, and when he slid them away, moving his lips towards my chest from my neck, I gasped in ecstasy.

“Ahh…”

He had me in the palm of his hand, just with his touches, at his mercy.

I wondered what would happen when he'd take me in all my senses.

“When was your last release, Rudra?”

I asked again.

Attaching his mouth to my swollen bud, he mumbled under his breath.

“Almost ten years ago,”

The moment I heard it, I felt the rug sweep off under my feet.

“Rudra,”

I called him, but he was very much indulged in sucking my bud harshly, making the blood rush to my cheeks.

“Ahhh…”

I cried out, trying to hold his face and muttered,

“Rudra, calm down, please, you might end up hurting me,”

I breathed with an urge, and he nipped on my nipple, whispering, “Don’t worry, I won't lose my senses until I'm inside of you.”

I shuddered violently because his words truly shook my insides when I tried to visualise the scene for a moment.

“I might die, you know,”

I remarked in a low tone.

Bringing his face back to the north, he fisted my hair from behind and impulsively clashed his lips with mine.

He sucked on my bottom lip with a zeal, a desire so strong dancing on the tip of his tongue.

His kissing me aggressively made me close my eyes, unable to restrain the fervour.

I turned breathless, my heart went ballistic, and my cheeks burned, feeling the heat between us.

He kept devouring my lips, sucking them incessantly and so I couldn't help but give in to the kiss.

His hand, still playing with my nipples, pinching them, which made me part my lips, making me moan into his mouth.

He angled my nape to have better access to savour my lips.

As the efficacy of our kiss intensified, I placed my hand over his on my chest.

And he pulled back, grasping that I needed to breathe.

With his forehead still against mine, he breathed over my lips, “Therefore I tell you, don’t seduce me, getting on my head.

Let me take it slow,”

I laboured to inhale when he moved back, letting in some air.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

I asked, frowning at him, probing further, “You didn't sleep with me, right?”

He squeezed my breasts again, and I shrieked, feeling the sensations.

“Ahhh…”

“Did you refer to in your letter that you wanted to sleep with me?”

He countered, and I gulped, narrowing my eyes and trying to recall what letter he was talking about.

“Oh, yes! The letter,”

I remembered how he told me to transcribe everything I wanted him to do with me in a letter.

“What did you write about?”

He asked, and I batted my lashes away, unable to look at him, and he pinched my nipple, earning a painful cry from me.

“What did you write, little wife?”

He asked again, hints of mischief very much apparent in his tone.

I tried to calm my racing heart, and I murmured,

“I want you around me…”

He stared intently at my lips, “Hnn-hnn,”

a throaty sound left his mouth, and I swallowed hard,

“Your touch...

that will blaze my… skin… on f...

fire and…”

Inhaling sharply, I went on, “...

burn me to the bones… which eventually… will enlighten every inch of me,”

I stuttered, my words and feelings all over the place.

I was compelled to shut my eyes, giving in, when he kissed me again.

I recalled my love for him, the times when I longed for his presence, and the way I waited for just a glimpse of him.

“And?”

He drew back momentarily, and I opened my eyes to reply to his question, “I want you to see me more than anyone ever did.

I want to see you more than anyone ever did.

I want us so close, our breathing feels wild and warm on our faces, I want us to be one, for once and for all,”

Suddenly, he peeled the kurta off his body, making me shudder, and my eyes dropped to his naked chest.

His wounds were healing, and the mark of my name was still visible on his arm.

I thought of everything he did for me, every time he warned me not to marry that old man.

The look of agony that glistened in his eyes before our wedding, the distress I saw on his face for his fellow soldiers after our wedding.

And even though the physician’s vague judgement bothered me, I gradually came to realise that he didn't sleep with me, he never did.

Had a man, practising celibacy for ten years, intercourses with a woman, there was no way she'd be able to walk the very next day, especially when the man was as robust as he was.

With how he made me feel, I could imagine how difficult it would be to be in bed under him.

My flesh crawled at just the thought of it.

But would he ever do that? Will he ever love me? I wondered.

“Will you ever love me?”

I almost whimpered at the stinging sensation when he harshly groped my breasts.

***