Page 61 of The Promised Queen

“No, Raja-sa,” I say quickly, a smile tugging at my lips despite everything. “No.”

I chuckle softly, though it comes out thinner than I’d like. “I’m just… a bit nervous to meet my father.”

He studies me with that quiet intensity of his, the kind that makes me feel like I’m made of glass and he can see everything—every crack, every trembling thought.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” he asks without a pause, without hesitation, as though rearranging his entire life for me is the most natural thing in the world.

For a second, I forget to breathe. I look at this man, this king. He who wakes before dawn, whose days are carved into strict schedules of meetings, decisions, responsibilities that could crush lesser men. And yet here he is, ready to toss it all aside at a single request.

My throat burns. I shake my head quickly. “No, Raja-sa. I will be fine.”

He nods once, though his frown lingers. Then, slowly, his lips curve into a smile. He leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, soft and reverent. My eyes close instinctively, my breath catching at the tenderness of it.

“When are you planning to leave?” he murmurs.

“Tomorrow morning,” I lie, smooth as silk, though inside I hate myself for it.

“Okay,” he says quietly, pushing himself to his feet.

I stand too, as though tethered to him. My chest feels tight, like it’s caving in on itself. The words are right there on my tongue:Don’t go. Stay. Let me keep this one night, just one night more.But I bite them back. It’s too much. If I let him stay, if I let myself crumble now, I won’t have the strength to leave tomorrow.

“I will be here to see you off, okay?” His voice is gentle, careful.

I nod mutely, my hands clenching at my sides.

Then, without warning, he leans down and kisses me. Not on the forehead this time, not a fleeting brush. His lips press against mine with a slow certainty, warm, unhurried, the kind of kiss that carries both promise and ache. My heart leaps into my throat. I melt into it, my hands clutching at his kurta before I can stop myself.

When he pulls away, my breath is unsteady. His eyes hold mine, dark and searching, as though he wants to memorize me.

“Okay,” I whisper, barely audible.

He gives me one last look before turning toward the door. I watch him go, my entire body screaming at me to stop him. But I don’t. I can’t.

The moment the door shuts, I collapse onto the bed. The air rushes out of me in a broken sigh.

Why does my life never let me hold on to someone? Why does it always demand that I let go? Somewhere, somehow, I must have wronged fate itself to deserve this endless ache.

My eyes land on the suitcase again, mocking, silent. Except it isn’t real. Not really. Tomorrow, when everyone thinks I’m leaving for my father’s house, I’ll be heading to Jaipur instead. The suitcase is only for show. All I’ll take with me is a backpack and some cash. The rest of this—all of this—stays behind. I can’t stay in this city, because I know he would try to find me and I don’t want that. I won’t allow myself to be found because I don’t want him to suffer anymore.

I will miss the children at school. Their laughter, their ridiculous questions, their little dances. I will miss the way theireyes lit up when they finally understood something I taught. I will miss their innocence.

I will miss Sitara, too. God, she has become such a friend. A real friend. The kind you don’t need to explain yourself to, the kind who just knows when to sit quietly by your side. I never thought I’d have that.

I will miss this palace, with all its grandeur and suffocating walls. Because within these walls, I found him.

And I will miss him. I will miss him most of all. The thought of it burns in my chest until I can barely breathe.

A soft knock jolts me from my spiral.

I wipe at my face quickly and force myself upright.

When I open the door, he’s there again. Raja-sa.

But this time, he isn’t empty-handed. He holds a bouquet of flowers, freshly cut, their fragrance already filling the hall around him. His expression is softer than I’ve ever seen it, a small smile touching his lips.

“Since I won’t be going with you,” he says gently, “but it’s still your father… regardless of the things he did. Give this to him on my behalf, Meher.”

My chest tightens painfully. I can only nod, afraid my voice will betray me.