Page 25

“D

on't call me a kid,”

I slapped his back, and he tightened his hold on me.

“But, you look like a kid,”

he again mocked me, and I pulled away from the hug.

“Well, because I'm not a giant tree like you,”

I said and dabbed my eyes with the end of my dupatta, cleaning my tears.

“Do I look like a tree?”

He asked, ridiculed, and I nodded, “Yes.

A tall, gnarled, controlling and such a rigid tree,”

I replied and, stepping closer, he picked his clothes out.

“Come, my plant,”

I looked at him, puzzled, “Plant?”

He nodded, walking with me with his hand on my shoulder.

“Yes.

If I’m a tree, you’re my plant.

Tiny, annoying but cute,”

I scowled at his logic, and he chuckled, making me stand in front of the mirror.

“Let me help you get dressed,”

He said, standing beside me.

I instantly shook my head.

“No, I don't think you should.

You’re a king and my husband, and such work doesn’t suit you,”

but he stepped closer and pulled the dupatta off my shoulder.

“So, you just want me to tear your clothes and not help you wear them.

How considerate of my wife,”

he said, flashing a phoney grin, and took the blouse in his hands.

I glanced at him as he was trying to figure out the pattern of the blouse, and when he did, he slid the sleeves through my arms.

I smiled, shaking my head at his silly fit.

“What's the use of you ripping my clothes when you can't do anything? I took you for a lion, but you turned out to be a kitten,”

I said, biting the inside of my cheek, and he chortled at my statement.

“Kitten?”

I nodded, adjusting the blouse on my shoulders.

Holding the strings, he asked, “How tight do you want?”

I smiled, remembering the last time he tied them.

“You can tie them as tight as you can.

But, I want to know, how tight do you want?”

I playfully questioned, leaning back, and saw him smirking in the mirror.

Suddenly, he fastened the strings too tightly, making me squeak.

“Aaahhh…”

My chest compressed, making my mouth drop open to breathe.

“This is how tight it will feel and this is exactly how you will react, for the whole night,”

He whispered near my ear, stirring my desires.

“How would you know?”

I asked, taking a shaky breath, and he boasted, “I’m a self-aware man.”

He looked at me through the mirror while tying the strings right.

“May I take your skirt off?”

He asked, hugging me from behind, and I held his hand over my midriff, saying, “You’ve already seen everything, why ask now?”

My lips trembled at the tickling sensation when he glided his fingers over my waistline to untie my skirt.

The lehenga pooled at my feet as he undid the knot, revealing my unclad legs to his eyes, and he lightly traced his fingers across my inner thigh.

“Do you still feel me there?”

He asked, and I was reminded of the previous night when he ate me raw.

I nodded, and stroking my lower abdomen, he said,

“Tell me whenever that feeling fades away,”

I took deep breaths to calm myself and asked, “Why?”

“To make sure you feel me every time you walk, every time you sit, every time you bathe.

I want you to feel me all the time, every single day,”

he said, passing me a new lehenga.

With shivery hands, I took it from him and put it on.

“You won't do anything, yet you want me to feel you.

That’s not fair play,”

I retorted, tying the knot over my waist.

“I want you to get accustomed to that feeling before I claim you wholly.

You’ll need that to bear me throughout the night,”

He mumbled in my ear.

I swallowed hard, holding his wrist.

He was making me feel aroused just by his words.

“Will you do it?”

I asked because it seemed like a dream.

“One day, and very badly,”

I was tantalized by his deep, rumbling voice, by our quiet surroundings, and our intense discussion, and so I seduced him back.

“What do you want to do with me?”

Caressing my waist with his fingers, he replied,

“Everything a husband does to his wife, everything you’ve learnt and everything you haven't, everything you don't know yet, and every dirty thing that exists in this world,”

he said, and a thousand butterflies erupted in my stomach.

“Don’t play with me, Rudra, if you will do nothing to me.”

He pulled me closer to him, crushing my waist.

I could feel the muscles of his firm chest flexing against my back.

“You don't like me teasing you?”

he asked with mischief dripping from his soft tone.

Casting my eyes low, I exclaimed, “I like it.

But you aren't letting me seduce you.

You’re playing with me.”

He kissed the side of my jaw, saying, “Good.

That's how it should be.

So you know who’s in power, my little seductress.”

He stifled a smile and folded my hands against my chest; I beamed with pride.

“I am in power because you're losing yourself to me,”

I said, and he smiled at my statement.

“I know your game, .

I know what you’re playing at since that night.

You made me run head over heels for you,”

he said, and I immediately responded, “Because you weren't ready to accept your feelings for me.”

Kissing my shoulder, he said, “I know, and I’m glad you did.

Because if not, I would’ve killed every man you’d try to marry,”

And I laughed lightly, “It means you wouldn't have let me marry anyone but you.”

Grazing my torso, he said, “Not in this life and not in the next six.”

A comfortable silence engulfed us for a few moments.

“,”

breaking the silence, he called me gently, with an intent look and something more—something I couldn't name.

I hummed at his call, and he said, “I think I love you.”

A bewildered smile was etched on my face.

“You think?”

I asked, tilting my head.

He nodded, “Yes.

I think I have loved you since the moment I first saw you.”

Tears misted over my eyes.

“If so, then why did you leave me?”

He clenched his jaw, “Because I hate your parents.”

I chuckled at his audacity, shaking my head.

“I too love you and I hate your Maasi maa,” I said.

He smiled.

“Tell me something I don't know, my little death-note,”

I inhaled a shaky breath, closing my eyes and bracing myself, “I didn't sleep with your uncle,”

A sudden void filled the air, dropping the room’s temperature, making my heart throb in my chest.

Composing himself, he turned me around by my shoulder, making me look at him and questioned, “What?”

I gulped hard and said, “I did not sleep with the old king.”

The moment I said it out loud, he pushed me against the mirror, clutching my neck loosely, raising my chin to look him in the eyes.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He gritted, looming over me, his chest puffed and gaze piercing through mine.

“I’m saying that I went to his chamber.

But with Suman’s help, I spiked his drink and even before he could see me, he fell unconscious,”

I stammered anxiously, and his grip firmed around my neck.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?”

His brows creased together, face contorted with fury.

“Because I was hurt… and angry,”

his neck muscles tensed as he inhaled sharply at my reason.

“That doesn't justify you lying to me.

You know I hate it when people lie.

I hate it the most,”

He spat, and I held his wrist to loosen his grip.

“Rudra, please calm down,”

I tried to tame him, but he stepped back, swatting my hand away.

He palmed his face, and I just stood there, staring blankly at him, tears streaming down my face.

“Rudra,”

I called him.

He looked at me, his face flushed red.

“Don't talk to me.

Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you lie to me? All this while, I thought I had made an immense mistake.

I was guilty, because I thought you slept with him because of me, that I caused everything that happened to you.

You cannot imagine what I felt.

And, here you’re now, humouring me, ‘Oh it was just a joke’,”

He yelled, turning breathless by the end, and I tried to step closer to him, my legs shaking badly.

“Rudra, listen to me,”

I tried to say, but retracing his steps, he pointed his finger at me to keep from getting closer to him.

“Stay away from me.

I hate liars.

I opened my heart to you only to discover that this was all a joke for you.

Me, killing thousands of people was just a joke for you,”

His voice grew louder as he fumed his words out.

“It wasn't a joke; it's my life,”

I tried to say, but tears blurred my vision.

He nodded, clenching his fists.

Without saying a word, he stormed out of the dressing room.

“Rudra,”

I quickly set my dupatta on my head and dashed out.

I almost ran behind him, but he just walked away.

“Ranaji,”

I called out, but he was gone, and I just stood there numbly, looking at him, going away from me, again.

A lone tear fell down my cheek.

“Bhabhisa,”

I suddenly heard a familiar voice call out to me.

I instantly spun away to wipe my cheeks and turned to find Agastya standing at the door.

Adjusting my dupatta, I plastered a smile, and he stepped inside the chamber.

“Devarsa,”

I said, and he plopped on the couch.

“What happened to Bhaisa?”

He asked casually, picking up the grapes from the basket, before having a bite.

“He’s angry with me,”

I sighed, slumping down on a couch across from him.

“He hates kids, I believe,”

he commented with a smile, and I shifted awkwardly in my seat, a strained smile etched on my face.

“Don’t worry; I know how to help you make it up to him,”

he said, moving his fingers animatedly in the air.

“Really?”

He nodded, and I asked, “How?”

“Annoy him until he listens to you.”

He grinned evilly, chewing the grapes, and I knitted my brows together.

“Annoy him?”

Sitting back relaxedly, he hummed.

“He will kill me if I do,”

He chuckled at my words and shook his head.

“He will not.

He likes you.

And you are much younger than he is.

You can bother him like a kid,”

He said, and I swung my head in denial,

“That's not a good idea,”

I replied.

“This is the best idea, Bhabhisa.

I have always used this trick.

Whenever Bhaisa was mad at me, I'd pester him, not letting him work or do anything.

Just give it a try.”

***

After an ‘insightful’ discussion with Agastya, I returned to my chores to distract myself from whatever happened with Rudra, which, to be honest, did not work.

It hadn’t been a week since we married, yet we were magnetically drawn to each other.

We worked through our personal issues together, trying to fight the world.

But I was in a dilemma.

A part of me felt angry about what he did and was reluctant to forgive him, while another part wanted to overlook everything and simply love him.

I loved him; there was no room for doubt.

But at what cost? At what cost did I love him? My dignity? My self-respect?

As a daughter, I was responsible for preserving not only my family’s honor but also my empire’s image as a princess.

I knew that if rumors reached the old king’s ears about my affair with a young man, it was certain that the hearsay would spread throughout Indira.

And so I failed, both as a daughter and as a royal.

I was clearly crestfallen that I couldn’t grasp his underlying intentions, but I was also happy that he loved me now.

The absurdity of our situation was that I could comprehend his circumstances even though he had deceived me and resented my parents.

He grew up in an environment completely different from mine, and I could tell just by looking at him that he had been burdened with responsibilities from a very young age.

I’d never seen him laugh freely, enjoy life, or have a good time like a normal person.

He’d either talk about politics, his responsibilities toward the kingdom, or some profound philosophies.

But even though I had witnessed remorse on his face, I still couldn’t bring myself to forget everything and move on after his actions.

No love, no emotion, and no apologies could undo what my parents endured because of a flawed upbringing.

My mother always told me that children are like wet soil, and parents are like potters.

They shape that clay into a fine, glazed object.

One wrong move could leave a bad impression.

Yet I couldn't hate him for that. Never.

Because he was making efforts to change, to open up, and, most of all, he accepted me the way I was—undignified.

However, I still found it difficult to adapt to his anger, values, and beliefs.

I held no personal grudges against him practicing celibacy, but it saddened me greatly every time I saw him forgoing the pleasures of life.

He had seen thirty summers and was at the age when people were meant to take the most delight in life.

But I couldn’t understand what else he wanted.

All his life, he had worked hard enough, straining himself and sacrificing his joys to become a king.

Yet now that he had become a king, why wasn’t he easing himself a little from all the hassle? How could it be beneficial if the privilege of being a king did not bring him happiness?

And I resented the fact that he strived so hard to become a king just to avenge his father’s death.

The father, about whom he knew nothing, and I didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect from him once he discovered the reality—the truth of his father and the woman he called his Maasi maa.

He despised lies and liars.

Regardless of the circumstance, he remained truthful, even if the truth might cost him his life.

I was concerned about his possible emotional reaction when he discovered that the entire story of his upbringing, beliefs, and sacrifices was based on a lie.

I absolutely despised the sight of him suffering and in pain.

That was the very reason I didn’t want him to continue with celibacy; if it hurt me so much, I couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt him.

My whole day passed while taking a stroll around the palace with Suman.

I visited the soldiers, met Badimaa, and stopped by the servants’ quarters to listen to the royal household staff’s needs and complaints.

I asked Suman to note everything, and in the evening, we both prepared a detailed report on all the changes needed in the servant’s quarters.

Later, I documented the report chronologically on paper scrolls to officially communicate it with Ranaji.

Once we were done, I told Suman to take a rest.

When she was about to leave, she paused and said, “Oh, ! I forgot to tell you something.”

I furrowed my brows and asked, “What is it?”

She looked at me, surprised, and asked, “Don't you know what happened in the courtroom today?”

I had no clue what she was talking about, so I asked, “No.

What happened?”

Coming closer, she sat beside me and said, “In today’s meeting, the king of Songarh has put forth a condition to accept a peace treaty with Suryagarh.”

My heart suddenly dropped at this information, and I immediately asked, “What condition?”

“He has proposed Prince Ranjvijay's alliance with one of his daughters,”

the news left me completely taken aback.

“Really? And what did Ranaji and Devarsa say?”

“Ranaji was about to say something, but Prince Ranvijay accepted the proposal, considering the peace of Suryagarh and its people.”

She filled me in on the details, and I let out a heavy sigh.

A political marriage!

“Alright.

You go.

I’ll talk to Devarsa about it.”

Once she left, I stepped out for some air.

I looked at the sky, as dark as my perplexed mind at the moment.

My stomach suddenly rumbled.

It was almost dinnertime, so I called for an attendee to ask about Ranaji's whereabouts.

“Ranisa, Ranaji is having dinner with Prince Ranvijay and Prince Agastya.

He told me to inform you.”

I nodded, and, bowing, he left.

After dinner in my chamber, I removed all my jewellery and moved to the courtyard.

Lying the mattress on the floor, I lay down after a long day.

I distractedly played with the end of my braid, reflecting on the events of the past few days, gazing at the stars shining brightly, like hope in the night sky.

After much tossing and turning, I finally dozed off and fell asleep.

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, I felt a hand draped around my waist from behind.

Even though I was half-asleep, I could recognize his scent.

I turned to face him and rested my head on his chest.

His warmth was much more effective than what I got from the quilt.

I felt him stroking my head and soon fell asleep again.

***

The following day, I woke up late, with harsh sun rays seeping into my eyes.

Sighing in annoyance, I opened my eyes as the bright light shattered my trance of sleep.

I turned around to find an empty space, with only his kurta lying on the floor beside me.

Sitting up, I pinned my hair in a bun and held the kurta close to my chest.

Bringing it near my nose, I took a deep sniff.

His natural, musky, and warm scent wafted into my mind and stirred my emotions.

I could feel him through it.

I sighed, relaxedly, a slight smile etched on my face.

Standing up, I went to the bathroom to freshen up.

Once I was refreshed, I walked out before taking a bath.

I stopped an attendee and asked, “Where is Ranaji?”

“He is in the practice room, doing his morning workout, Ranisa,”

she said.

I bit my lower lip to contain the wicked smile that was about to appear on my face.

Working out? Interesting!

Time to execute Agastya’s plan.

Turning on my heels, I paraded towards the practice room, and the moment I stepped in, I found him swinging a wooden club.

Taking a deep breath, I moved toward him.

As I walked closer, his movements became awkward, and he paused his exercise, looking at me with his brows knitted together.

He scrutinised me for several moments before stepping back and continuing his exercise.

I edged closer to him, and agitated, he set the wooden club down.

Sighing, he positioned himself prone on the floor and began doing push-ups.

My treacherous eyes scanned his half-naked body, lathered in sweat.

I mindlessly stared at his veins bulging out as his arms bent, the muscles of his back flexing as he pushed his body up and down.

Looking at his finely built body, a perverted thought of scratching his back while making love to him flashed through my mind.

I immediately shook my head, waving that thought away, and sat beside him on the floor.

Lying down, I slipped under him from the side, our gaze met, looking directly into each other’s eyes.

His face kept grazing mine every time he lowered himself for another push-up.

“You know, you shouldn't strain yourself so much until you're completely healed,”

I said, and he just kept doing what he was doing.

Shamelessly coiling my arms around his neck, I mumbled, “You look so hot while working out, Rudra.”

Inhaling a deep breath, he got off me and shifted a little away, continuing his push-ups.

I stood up and went near him.

“You know, Rudra.

As a kid, I would sit on my father’s back every time he did push-ups.

It used to be so much fun,”

I said, but he ignored me again.

Adjusting my dupatta and lehenga, I added, “Let's see if you can deal with this.”

I mounted on his back, crossed my legs, and sat comfortably.

When he began the exercise with me on his back, I burst into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god!”

I laughed harder, recalling my childhood.

“I don't think you weigh more than a bird,”

He remarked, and I roared with even more mirth.

“Really!?”

He carried on doing it, and suddenly my laughter died.

I gulped, looking at his nape, which was turning sweaty.

Leaning over, I lay on my stomach over his back and wound my arms around his shoulder.

Closing my eyes, I kept my face at the back of his left shoulder and hugged him from behind.

“Are you okay?”

he asked softly, and I opened my eyes.

“I’m just missing my family,”

I replied.

With every move, the front of my body could feel the contraction in the muscles of his bare back.

“Are you still angry with me?”

I questioned in a low voice.

He was panting from the intense workout and replied, “Yes, I have every right to be angry and upset with my little liar.”

I sighed and said, “Of course you do.

But you should, at least, listen to my explanation for once, Rudra,”

He was still exerting himself, stretching his body up and down.

“What's wrong is wrong.

There is no explanation,”

He responded, and I lifted my face and pressed my chin against his shoulder.

“Exactly.

What’s wrong will always be wrong.

And you wronged me in front of everyone.

The letter you left behind has tarnished my dignity in the eyes of others.

But even after I brought disgrace to my family, my parents listened to me and prioritised my happiness. They chose to be by my side. I wanted to know if you truly cared about me, if your love for me was merely materialistic, or if you loved me unconditionally, like my parents. And it worked, it worked, Rudra. The moment you said that such things don’t matter to you, my esteem for you has grown.”

I said.

He did not say anything, going on with his exercise.

Suddenly, an authoritative voice caught my ear.

“What are you doing?”

***