Page 77 of The Promised Queen

Rajveer grins, pulling a crooked tiara from behind his back. “I’m the king now!” he declares, then takes off like lightning before I can even blink.

Meher groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Devraj, if you love me even a little, please catch your son before I—”

“Already on it.” I scoop Rajveer up mid-sprint, his laughter echoing against the marble floors as I swing him over my shoulder like a sack of grain. He’s giggling so hard he can barely breathe, and for a second, my chest tightens with something dangerously close to awe.

This. This is everything I didn’t know I wanted.

“Your reign as king has officially ended,” I announce, marching back toward the living room while Rajveer flails dramatically. Aadhya claps like I’ve just slayed a dragon.

I set Rajveer down, kiss the top of his head, and watch him scurry off toward the kitchen—probably to bribe the staff for sweets. Aadhya skips after him, leaving me with…her. My very beautiful wife.

She’s glaring at me like she wants to fight and kiss me at the same time. Her cheeks are flushed, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and—God help me—she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Maybe even more so now, with her slightly swollen belly making her kurta stretch in the middle, the promise of another little chaos-maker nestled inside.

“You’re late,” she says, pushing herself up with a huff. “And before you ask, yes, I want ice cream. No, not the chocolate one,the strawberry one fromthatcafé that’s thirty minutes away. And no, don’t you dare suggest sending someone else. If you loved me, Devraj, you’d—”

I cross the distance between us in three strides, tilt her chin up, and kiss her mid-rant. Soft, deep, lingering—because seven years, two kids, and a kingdom later, she still tastes like home.

When I pull back, her breath catches, her eyes shimmering with a storm of emotions I know like the lines of my own palm.

“I do love you,” I murmur against her lips. “Enough to get you strawberry ice cream from the other end of the planet if that’s what it takes.”

She blinks, then narrows her eyes, though her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “You’re lucky I’m pregnant. Otherwise, I’d call your bluff.”

I chuckle, sliding my hands around her waist—careful, protective, always aware of the life growing inside her. “You think I’m bluffing? Try me, Maharani.”

“I wanted this,” I admit quietly, my thumb tracing slow circles on her back. “All of this. You, the kids, the noise, even the tantrums about ice cream.”

Her forehead rests against my chest, and I feel her smile through the fabric of my shirt. “You’re getting sentimental, Raja-sa,” she teases, but her arms tighten around me like she needs this as much as I do.

Maybe I am sentimental. Or maybe I’ve just learned that strength isn’t in ruling a kingdom—it’s in holding your world together when it matters. And Meher? She’s my world. Always has been.

“Go get me that ice cream,” she says finally, pulling back with a mischievous glint in her eye. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you kiss me again.”

I grin, pressing a kiss to her temple before walking away, already fishing for my car keys. Her voice follows me, sharp and sweet, like it always has:

“And Dev? Don’t you dare come back without sprinkles!”

God help me, I’d conquer empires for this woman.

But for now? Ice cream will do.