A Royal Redemption (Reluctant Royals #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

N ine years ago

I pressed my heavy polki earring into place and hid the matching maang tikka in my dresser drawer. Ma would search for it in the big brass jewellery box because that’s where I was supposed to keep all my jewellery, and she wouldn’t bother to look anywhere else. Because Princess Diya Sisodia always did as she was bid.

Hiding my maang tikka was my way of rebelling against the dictates of my very traditional family. A micro-rebellion, so to speak, because it wasn’t as if the sky was going to come crashing down because I wasn’t decked out like a desi Christmas tree.

But going by the way my mother shrieked at the staff, the illustrious Sisodia family would be shamed if their daughter wasn’t dressed appropriately.

“It’s just a birthday party, Ma,” I said softly.

She shot me a glance venomous enough to make me regret my earlier rebellion. I should just have worn the damn jewellery, I thought worriedly, before I straightened my spine.

I might not know much about anything but I knew fashion, and I knew style. A maang tikka was too much for a birthday party. Even if I was the birthday girl.

“It’s not just your birthday party, Diya,” hissed Ma. “Your Baba has fixed it up with the Trikheras. They will announce your engagement to Dheer tonight.”

Dheer . My stomach fluttered at the thought of His Highness Randheer Singh Shekhawat, Maharaja of Trikhera. We had been close friends all our lives, and it felt like Dheer was my destiny. My future. One I looked forward to.

Our marriage would unite the royal families of Jadhwal and Trikhera. Hence, the grand announcement at my birthday party. But it was more than just a dynastic marriage. So much more. I had been in love with Dheer since I first eyes on him. And I knew he loved me too, even if he hadn’t said it aloud. I knew it when he kissed me just before he left for his training in New Delhi.

What had been the most miserable day of my life had turned into a magical evening when Dheer pulled me into his arms in the little gazebo behind the palace and kissed me senseless. We were both breathing hard when he pulled away.

“I’ll be back for you before you know it,” he had whispered in my ear. “No matter where I go, I’ll always be back for my Diya.”

Dheer was a man of his word. I knew he was going to come back for me. And I knew he’d ask me to marry him tonight at the party because what could be more romantic than a handsome prince claiming his bride in public?

In the olden days, said prince would create quite a spectacle when he rode into the durbar on his favourite horse and demanded to marry the woman he loved. For what was romance without a good spectacle? The boring, unvarnished truth of an arranged marriage could hardly be immortalised in a painting or tapestry.

I sighed as I realised that Dheer would never make a spectacle of himself. He wouldn’t come to me on a horse. He would probably show up on his latest motorcycle.

I felt a delicious shudder wrack my body at the thought of riding away into the sunset on the back of his monster motorcycle. Fine! Maybe motorcycles were way more romantic than horses and way less smelly.

Of course, I was too young to get married right away, but I couldn’t wait to be formally engaged to Dheer. He was my best friend, my partner in crime. He was also the first boy I had ever kissed. And he would be the last because Dheer and I were meant to be forever. I couldn’t see myself loving anyone the way I loved him.

Sure, my brother, Ranveer, rolled his eyes when I spoke of my love for Dheer. That’s because they were best friends. Dheer and Veer were the Jai and Veeru of the princely states of Trikhera and Jadhwal. Erstwhile princely states, I corrected. It was very important to use the right words.

My father, His Highness Raghuveer Singh Sisodia, was the Maharana of Jadhwal. Dheer’s father, His Highness Mayur Singh Shekhawat, was the Maharaja of Trikhera until his sudden death a year ago. He was also the sitting MP for Trikhera. Veer and Dheer were very close and when my father decided to send Veer to Eton when he was thirteen, Dheer insisted on going there as well. Meanwhile, his sister, Isha, and I were stuck in one of the premier girls’ boarding schools in India with teachers who kept a stern eye on us because Rajput princesses were guarded more closely than the British crown jewels.

We weren’t daughters. We were bargaining chips. Pawns in the giant game of chess that our parents played against the world. I was lucky to be marrying the man I loved, I reminded myself.

“Did Dheer say anything to you?” asked Ma, as she brought the pallu of my pastel pink poshak over my head, draped it over my right shoulder and pinned it in place with a diamond and emerald brooch.

I picked up my favourite tan Sabyasachi belt and began winding it around my waist, but my mother grabbed it out of my hands.

“Are you crazy? Why are you wearing a leather belt over your outfit?”

“Trust me, Ma. It will set off the gold zardosi in the poshak.”

“I don’t care,” screeched my mother. “You are a Rajput princess, and you will dress like one. Don’t make me whip you with that belt, Diya.”

I snorted at the very idea.

“I’d like to see you try,” I dared her, knowing my father would never allow it.

I was my father’s princess, and my mother would never dare to cross that line, no matter how upset she was. To be honest, it didn’t take much to make my mother upset. She refused to even consider therapy for her anger management issues and spent her days going around in a cloud of fury. I tried to stay out of her way most days, but on days like this, I just couldn’t avoid her.

She rolled up the belt and threw it across the room as hard as she could and I winced at the sound of the solid gold buckle shaped like a Bengal tiger hitting the wall.

“Ma, that was a bespoke belt with Dadi Sa’s emeralds set in the eyes of the tiger,” I wailed, as my assistant rushed to pick it up.

My grandmother had left me her huge collection of precious stones and I liked having them set in bespoke pieces of accessories. I was planning to have her collection of polki and meenakari pendants stitched into my wedding outfit as the perfect blend of the old and the new.

“I don’t care! Dheer can shower you with emeralds as soon as you’re married. If he’d only get on with it,” she muttered as she walked around me in a circle to inspect my outfit.

“He will! He has something planned for today,” I confessed.

She looked up with a pleased smile.

“Did he say what it was?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes as my stylist spritzed me with my favourite perfume. J’adore by Dior. Ma had pitched a fit when Dheer had gifted me a bottle of the perfume for my eighteenth birthday because she thought it was too mature a fragrance for a young girl. But one sniff, and I’d known it was going to be my signature scent.

“All he said is that he has a surprise for me.”

Ma pursed her lips unhappily.

“I don’t like the way he’s ghosted you for the past year,” she grumbled.

“He didn’t ghost me, Ma! He was grieving for his father. We were all shocked when Uncle passed away in his sleep so suddenly. Dheer needed some space to process his grief, that’s all.”

Still, I couldn’t ignore the worry that niggled at me when I thought of the months of radio silence that had followed his father’s funeral ten months ago. He hadn’t even returned to New Delhi to complete his training for the Indian Foreign Service. Instead, Dheer had locked himself in the desert citadel of Trikhera to sort out his father’s immense estates. I didn’t know how long such things took, but surely he could find some time to talk to me.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t called me, but we’d lost our ease of conversation for some reason. All our phone calls were stilted, one-sided conversations with me being determinedly cheerful and trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

But that was about to change.

Dheer had called me this morning to wish me on my birthday, and when he said that he had a huge surprise for me, I just knew he was going to make everything alright again. And if a little voice in my head wondered why he didn’t sound like my Dheer at all, I put it down to the effects of grief over losing his father.

There was a knock at the door and someone said that my father wanted Ma downstairs immediately.

“Sit here until I send for you. Don’t mess up your outfit, and don’t you dare even look at that stupid belt,” she warned, as she strode out of the room.

I rolled my eyes and pulled out my phone. It was past seven pm, and Dheer still wasn’t here. I didn’t want to go down until he arrived, but Baba would never forgive me if I insulted his guests by ignoring them. I took a few deep breaths and remembered all the princess training I had received at the very exclusive finishing school in Switzerland when I was eighteen.

A princess is always in control of her emotions.

A princess never gives in to a cheap display of anger.

I didn’t know why they had to use such big words when all they meant was that I wasn’t allowed to have a temper tantrum in public.

My assistant, Bina, smiled at me reassuringly.

“Why isn’t he here, yet?” I asked her.

“He’ll be here, Your Highness. He won’t let you down.”

That was true. His Highness Randheer Singh Shekhawat was just not capable of letting me down.

The double doors to my bedroom flew open and someone shouted excitedly.

“He’s here! Your Rana Sa is here, Your Highness.”

I wanted to run down the stairs and jump into his arms, but I knew my mother would flay me alive if I disgraced her like that. Instead, I forced myself to await her summons.

But something was wrong.

The excited cries turned to hushed whispers, and if there was one thing I had learned, it was that hushed whispers that spread through the palace like snakes could only mean disaster.

And I was right.

I pushed past the people holding me back and rushed out of my room to the balcony that overlooked the great hall.

My parents were greeting Dheer’s mother and his sister, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to find my brother staring down at me sympathetically. He squeezed my shoulder once.

“It’s going to be bad, Diya. But we’ll get through this,” he promised.

What was going to be bad? And where the hell was Dheer?

And then I heard it. A tinkle of laughter that sounded like bells. The herald of my doom.

I could only stare in surprise and confusion as Dheer walked into the great hall of my father’s ancestral palace with his arm around a woman. A tall, statuesque woman, wearing the distinctive jewellery of a Trikhera bride. I stared at the three-headed viper necklace and armband that were a custom modification of an ancient Bvlgari design, worn by every Trikhera bride for the past one hundred years.

He greeted my parents politely and then brought her forward.

“Your Highnesses, may I have the honour of introducing my fiancée, Raksha?”

The blood in my veins turned to ice and I turned to Veer in confusion.

“Did he just say… fiancée ?”

Veer led me to my room and I followed him numbly. What the fuck was going on?

I was going to marry Dheer! So who was this fucking Raksha?

“It’s true, Diya. No one knows anything about where or how he met her. His folks are as shocked by his announcement as we are.”

“But… how is this possible?” I asked as my throat closed.

Veer shook his head in disgust.

“The fucking bastard says it was love at first sight.”

And just like that, my world splintered into nothingness.