The grand corridors of Vardhana Palace had finally settled into a hush, the echoes of the evening’s feast fading into the silence of the night. The guests, exhausted from the journey and the formalities of the grand dinner, had retired to their respective chambers. The final meeting to solidify the alliance would take place the next day, where words would dictate the fates of two kingdoms—and two souls.
Anika stepped into her chamber, her posture composed, yet her mind was anything but composed. As the heavy doors closed behind her, she exhaled, her fingers instinctively reaching for the delicate jewelry that adorned her. One by one, she removed the golden bangles that had chimed with each movement, the weight of the ornate earrings, and finally, the veil that had shielded her from prying eyes.
She turned to the polished mirror, her own reflection staring back at her—yet her thoughts were far from her own appearance. Instead, they revolved around him. Prince Dev.
Her fingers trailed absentmindedly over her wrist as she recalled the evening. The hushed whispers, the sharp words of King Veerendra, the veiled mockery—and Dev’s silence. He had sat there, saying nothing while she was reduced to mere speculation, her worth debated as if she were nothing more than a fine piece of art to be examined. Did he agree with them? Did he share his father’s views—that a woman was to be measured by her beauty alone?
But another voice inside her spoke with caution. He did not know me. What could he have said? Wouldn’t it be rash to judge a man on a single night? The conflicting thoughts warred within her, refusing to settle.
Her trance was broken by the sound of the chamber door creaking open. Meera, her ever-enthusiastic handmaiden, entered with a broad grin, carrying a tray of warm milk and herbs.
“So,” Meera drawled, setting the tray down with a knowing look, “shall I ask, or will you tell me yourself?”
Anika arched an eyebrow. “Ask what?”
“Oh, don’t pretend, Rajkumari,” Meera teased, sitting beside her on the cushioned bench. “I saw your eyes darting across the table. I saw the way Yuvraj Dev looked at you—like a warrior seeing his destined battlefield for the first time.”
Anika scoffed. “You have a flair for dramatics, Meera.”
Meera leaned in, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Was he not handsome?”
Anika pursed her lips. “He… looked as a prince should.”
Meera gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. “Such an indifferent answer! Come now, Rajkumari, surely you noticed something beyond his title?”
Anika hesitated. She had noticed. His unwavering gaze, the way his golden-brown eyes had darkened at his father’s words, how his presence had demanded attention without effort. But she wasn’t about to let Meera revel in that knowledge.
“He was… fine,” she said, feigning nonchalance.
Meera laughed. “Then why did your breath hitch when you entered the hall?”
Anika threw a cushion at her, shaking her head. “Enough of your nonsense. It is late, and tomorrow will be a long day.”
Meera grinned but said no more, knowing her princess well enough to recognize when to let things be—for now.
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Meanwhile, across the palace, in Yuvraj Dev’s chamber…
Dev stood near the large balcony, the cold night air brushing against his skin, but the heat of anger still simmered beneath his calm exterior. His fists clenched as he replayed the events of the evening. The murmurs, the sneers, the audacity of the courtiers to question his queen’s worth—his queen.
His mind refused to forget the way they had whispered, the way they had mocked. He had been trained in restraint, in diplomacy. But tonight, those teachings felt like chains binding his hands when all he had wanted to do was silence them.
The door creaked open, and Vishva, his most trusted commander and closest friend, stepped inside. He halted upon seeing the storm brewing in Dev’s eyes.
“I assume you are not calling me at this hour for a game of dice,” Vishva remarked dryly, crossing his arms.
Dev turned, his gaze sharp. “I want every man who spoke against Rajkumari Anika in the Gala taken to my personal cell—within the hour.”
Vishva studied him for a moment, then nodded. “And the king?”
“I will handle my father,” Dev stated, his voice edged with steel. “This marriage is a political alliance, but no one—no one—will disrespect my queen.”
A slow smile spread across Vishva’s face. “It seems the Yuvraj has already accepted his bride.”
Dev did not answer, but his silence spoke louder than words. Vishva bowed and turned to carry out his command. He, too, had burned with rage at the insults thrown at his Bhabhi, the woman who would soon be his queen.
The Personal Cells Beneath Vardhana Palace
The dimly lit dungeon reeked of sweat and fear. The men who had spoken against Rajkumari Anika now stood shackled, their faces drained of color. They knew why they were here. The prince’s wrath was whispered throughout the kingdom, but few had witnessed it firsthand—until now.
Dev entered, his stride slow but deliberate. The torchlight cast ominous shadows on his face, highlighting the simmering fury in his golden-brown eyes. He glanced at the gathered men, his silence heavier than any words.
“You spoke ill of my queen,” Dev’s voice was low, lethal. “And you believed there would be no consequence?”
The courtiers trembled. A few stammered apologies, but Dev raised a hand, silencing them.
“Respect,” he continued, stepping closer, “is not something you are granted—it is something you are taught. And since your tongues have forgotten their limits, your bodies will remember.”
At his signal, Vishwa’s men stepped forward. The punishment was swift, brutal. Fists met flesh, boots drove into ribs. The men collapsed, groaning, as their wives, locked in a separate cell, screamed for mercy. Dev stood still, unmoving, watching the lesson unfold. He did not need to lift a hand—his presence alone was enough to drive terror into their hearts.
After a few agonizing hours, he finally raised a hand, halting the punishment. His voice, calm once more, cut through the heavy silence.
“Provide them with medical care,” he ordered. “If anyone asks, they were drunk and fought amongst themselves.” His eyes darkened. “Make sure they remember this night well.”
As Dev turned and strode out of the dungeon, Vishwa followed, his own anger still simmering. “You spared them.”
Dev’s jaw clenched. “For now, let the other's get the indirect message that what happens when they seep about my queen".
He returned to his chamber, the night air cooling his rage. He had ensured that none would dare question Anika’s worth again.
Tomorrow, he would face his father. But tonight, he had made his first move.
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