Page 62 of The Promised Queen

He reaches forward, presses a lingering kiss to my forehead once more, and whispers, “Good night.”

Then he turns, walking down the corridor, tall and composed, the weight of his crown invisible but always there.

I stand in the doorway long after he disappears from sight. The flowers tremble in my hands. Finally, I lift them to my face.Their scent is sweet, overwhelming. And with it, the tears I’ve been holding back spill free, hot and unstoppable.

I clutch the bouquet to my chest and let myself cry.

Because tomorrow, I will leave.

And it feels like breaking myself in two.

CHAPTER 44

Not a Joke?

DEVRAJ

The letter lies open on my lap. The ink has smudged in places, as though her hand trembled while writing. Or maybe she cried. I imagine her bent over this paper, lips pressed tight, her heart breaking with every word.

And now, mine is breaking with every word I read.

I am not leaving you. I can never leave you, Raja-sa.

But all I have brought into your life is trouble. I have only made you work harder, I have only given people reasons to whisper your name in ugly ways. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve me. You are made for the crown, Raja-sa. Don’t let someone like me take it away from you.

I feel so privileged to have known you. You are, quite literally, the best thing that has ever happened to me. I will always cherish you and the memories we created together. Do you remember our first meeting? You told me I was yours. Now I want to tell you—I will always be yours. But from far away. Far enough that I don’t get in your way, far enough that no one can question you because of me. I hate when you have to answer for me, when you have to defend me. You should not have to.

My mother used to say I was a stubborn child. Too rigid. Too full of pride. I think she was right. When it comes to you, I feel that same stubborn pride—you are my husband, and you will always be. But I am not worthy of being a queen, of sitting next to someone so dignified… so divine. I will forever worship you, Raja-sa.

I realized a few days ago that I have fallen for you. That is why this is so difficult. If I had no heart, if I felt nothing, maybe leaving would be easy. But you are the first person who has ever truly been mine. And selfishly, I wanted to stay. But when I looked at you—at your shoulders, at the weight you carry every day—I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t be selfish like that.

I am not running away. I am giving you what you deserve: freedom. You told me once you don’t have it. But you are wrong, Raja-sa. You can have it. You can have whatever you want, you just have to try harder, push harder. Be you. Be Devraj.

Because before you are a king, before you are a ruler, you are a man. And that man… that man is wonderful. That man is who I love. Not the crown. Not the throne. Just you. Only you. Always you.

Don’t look for me. You must not. I give you permission to marry again, but if it is possible… keep me in your heart for a little while. Just a little while. I would like that.

Thank you, Raja-sa. For being you with me. For caring. For letting me belong to you, if only for six months. They were the best six months of my life.

Love,

Your wife,

Meher

The letter shakes in my hands. The edges crumple from the way my fingers grip it too tight. I’ve read it three times, four, maybe more—I don’t even know anymore. Every word blurs, then sharpens, then blurs again behind the wetness in my eyes.

I am sitting on the floor of her room. Not the chair, not the bed—the floor, my knees digging into the carpet, my body bent over like I’ve been struck down. The silence here is deafening, louder than any crowd, louder than the thunder of applause or the drone of court speeches. Her absence screams at me from every corner.

Her scent lingers, faint, on the pillow, in the folds of the curtains. But she is not here. She isreallygone.

I searched. God knows I searched. Every corridor, every garden path, the temple, the royal school. I even checked the kitchens like some desperate fool. She isn’t anywhere. The guards say she left quietly, alone. No one stopped her. No one thought they should.

This is not some joke. Not some childish tantrum. She has truly gone.

My Meher.

Gone.