Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
SHIVINA
H is words hit me like a blow.
There really was no going back now. One small deception had hit my life with the force of a tsunami and had made it almost unrecognisable overnight. And the sooner I accepted it, the happier I would be. His Highness’s wife wasn’t just a title. It was a role. And I had to either step into it fully and embrace whatever came with it for however long it lasted, or I had to walk away right now.
When I agreed to stay married to him, I thought my new role was small and temporary and that once I had the baby, I could finally begin to live my own life that I had put on hold ever since my father died, but birthing the Mirpur heir apparently meant that my own identity was going to be obliterated for good. I was going to be a mother, nanny, and sister with no hope of ever being anything more.
And as I saw Zarna chattering away at the centre of a group of strangers who had accepted her unconditionally, I knew I couldn’t walk away so easily. Not when I had the chance to make a better life for us. Of course, it remained to be seen if any of these people would bother with us after the inevitable divorce.
That was the other thing that bothered me. I wasn’t really his wife. Not in the real sense of the word. The very fact that our marriage came with an expiry date made it feel more like a job. And you couldn’t allow your boss to buy you expensive things. That was unprofessional. I was already lusting after my new husband, and I had no business making it worse by turning our arrangement into anything that resembled a relationship.
I decided to take the Rani Sa of Trikhera up on her offer. It seemed very far-fetched to me that anyone would care about what I wore, but I could try it out for a bit until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. If there was one thing I knew, it was that I was not going to turn into one of those aimless page 3 women who depended on their men for financial support. I was going to fight for my independence because I never again wanted to be in a position where I was forced to do something that went against my principles just because I had nowhere to go.
Before I could express this to His Highness, Rani Ma brought Zarna over to us.
“Shivina, I’m giving Zarna a tour of the palace. Would you like to join us?” she asked kindly.
I stared at her, wondering if she resented my presence in her home. She had been very kind to me since I had arrived, but surely she couldn’t be happy about it. She hadn’t even flinched when I threatened to attend the puja in my nightclothes rather than wear the outfit she’d picked out for Kavya Baisa. I had never thrown a tantrum in my life, but the thought of stepping into Baisa’s shoes yet again made me want to throw up all over the fancy Persian carpet in our room. His Highness’s aunt had stared at me in horror, but Rani Ma’s eyes had held nothing but compassion and understanding.
Which was why I followed her willingly now. She wanted to show me her home. Maybe it would help me understand His Highness better. He looked very grumpy to see me leave, which sent a thrill down my spine. I turned around to look at him one last time and found his gaze fixed on me. My heart stopped and jumpstarted on its own, and I turned bright red.
“Ohmigod! Stop ogling each other in public,” cried Zarna, making gagging sounds.
“ Shut. Up! ” I snarled, now turning purple with embarrassment, wishing the ground would open up so I could do a full Sita Maiyya.
His Highness shot me a cocky grin, and I stumbled, making my embarrassment complete. Damn him!
“Come along, girls,” said Rani Ma, not even bothering to hide her smile.
I turned around and followed her without sparing him another glance, and as soon as we were out of sight, I reached out and swatted Zarna on the head. She laughed as she rubbed the back of her head.
“How old is the palace, Rani Ma?” I asked.
Rani Ma began the story of the first Mirpur royal, Sardar Sumer Singh Rathore, who had built a haveli on this very site seven hundred years ago. After years of war-mongering and weapons dealing, Sumer Singh’s descendants had amassed enough wealth to build this palatial palace, but it was only when his great-grandson had successfully defended the village of Mirpur and its immediate neighbours from marauding invaders seven times that Emperor Akbar had finally recognised him as Maharaja.
A shiver went up my spine at the thought of such a storied heritage. I didn’t even know the names of my great-grandparents, let alone where they’d come from and what they’d done. How the hell was I going to integrate into such a family?
Rani Ma showed us the long picture gallery, and while the women were all beautiful, the men were practically identical. They were just fiercer-looking versions of His Highness with huge moustaches.
“Whose sword is that?” I gasped, running over to admire a massive sword displayed in a glass case in the centre of the picture gallery. It was double-edged and inlaid with rubies and diamonds, and the gleaming steel reflected my awestruck face clearly.
“That sword belonged to the first Maharaja of Mirpur, Raj Rajeshwar Saramad-i-Rajah-i-Hindustan Maharajidhraj Fateh Singh Ji,” explained Rani Ma.
“Wow! How tall was the first Maharaja?” asked Zarna, comparing her height to that of the sword. She was just slightly taller than it was.
“He was said to be almost seven feet tall. His clothes are displayed in the next room, and they certainly wouldn’t fit any man today. And that sword was built for a man of his size. I doubt anyone can swing it around today with as much ease as he did.”
“Has anyone even lifted it lately?”
“Ranvijay lifts it every year when he places it on the gaddi for the weapons puja. Only the Maharaja is allowed to touch it. And trust me, it takes him the better part of an hour to clean it properly,” Rani Ma said with a laugh.
I gave a sigh of pleasure at the idea of His Highness wielding that mighty sword.
“How many weapons do you have?” I asked with wide-eyed wonder.
“You’ll see,” said Rani Ma. “The armoury is the next spot on the tour after the clothes.”
Zarna cooed over the gorgeous clothes worn by ancient Mirpur royals, but I couldn’t care less about that. I was dying to see the armoury. I had always wanted to learn fencing and sharpshooting, and Baba had arranged for lessons from the palace instructor when we moved to Sajjangarh. I had worked very hard to learn both, but I’d had to stop my lessons after he died. We bumped into His Highness on the way to the armoury, and Zarna begged him to join us after a sly, knowing glance at me.
“Di is simply mad about weapons, RV. You should totally show her your armoury,” she said with a wink.
I loved my sister. I truly did. But there were times when I could have cheerfully strangled her, I thought viciously.
“How about this? You take Shivina to the armoury, and I’ll take Zarna to the stables,” suggested Rani Ma.
“But I want to see the other swords too,” complained Zarna.
“No, you don’t,” said Rani Ma meaningfully, and my sister was nothing if not quick on the uptake.
She blew us kisses and gleefully left us alone to stew in our shared embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. My mother has the tact of a ten-year-old,” muttered His Highness. “I’m sure you don’t want to see a bunch of rusty old swords. What would you rather do instead?”
“If you don’t mind, I really do want to see the weapons,” I replied.
He arched a disbelieving brow but led me to the armoury willingly.
I exhaled happily at the smell of metal and gun oil that filled the air. It was the best smell in the world, I thought, hugging myself at the sight of so many gorgeous weapons.
“Zarna was serious. You do like weapons,” said His Highness in surprise.
“Is that so strange?” I asked uncomfortably.
Kavya Baisa had always mocked me for it and called me unfeminine.
“Well, it is unusual, but I wouldn’t call it strange. Do you know how to use any weapons?”
There was a strange note in his voice.
“I fence and shoot. But what would you call it, if not strange?” I persisted, wanting to know exactly what he thought of my hobbies.
He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and one ankle crossed over the other as he studied me.
“I think I’d call it sexy,” he murmured, and ohmigod! I felt a gush of wetness flood me.
This man was a menace to women everywhere, and I’d love nothing more than to best him in a swordfight. My breath caught at the idea of fencing with my husband. He smirked as if he could sense my naughty thoughts.
“Let’s see… have you seen a Morning Star before?” he asked, moving ahead before I could decide if I wanted to smack that smirk off his face or kiss it off.
“Uh… no,” I said, trying to focus on his words.
“It’s nothing but a glorified mace,” he replied with a grimace. “A very angrez weapon. Very in your face. But these steel lassos, on the other hand, are pure desi jugaad. They are coated with bits of glass and dipped in poison before use. It’s a triple whammy when you lasso your enemy around the neck and tighten the noose. The glass cuts into the skin, and the poison enters the bloodstream.”
I made a face at the inelegance of it.
“You’re hard to please,” he grumbled as he showed me some more ancient weapons which were no longer in use. There was a completely impractical and big machine that launched throwing stars that had never been used successfully. “All right, what about this one? This is a leather belt studded with sharp metal spikes. Can you imagine the damage it could inflict?”
“Don’t you have any more swords?” I grumbled. “Or a nice gun?”
He laughed in reply.
“You’re far more dangerous than I imagined, Rani Sa. How did I ever mistake you for a simple small-town girl?”
“Why can’t I be both?” I asked with a frown.
“You can be anything you want,” he replied, and I felt those tingles again in my lower abdomen. Drat him!
His Highness next led me to a wall lined with swords of all shapes and sizes. I drooled over each one and soaked in his stories, of which he had many. It was clear he knew every weapon in his armoury, and that was very impressive, considering he hadn’t used any of them in war. He pointed out a sword which used to belong to Aurangzeb and another which had been won in a friendly swordfight against Tipu Sultan. Each sword had a name and a story.
“And what’s this beauty called?” I asked, pointing to a small, slim sword that stood on a pedestal.
“That’s the Durga Talvar,” replied His Highness. “It was hand-forged with every avatar of Goddess Durga inscribed on it. Legend has it that it can only be wielded by a woman. And according to our family lore, the only woman who ever wielded it was Durgamati, the first Maharani of Mirpur. She fought off an army of invaders who attacked the village while her husband was at war. She died in battle, unfortunately, but drove away the attackers before she succumbed to her wounds. What’s wrong, Shivina? Are you crying? ”
I wiped my tears hastily and turned to glare at him.
“Of course not!”
“Hmph! I won’t have you crying over every story you hear in my palace, you hear? Your sister will skin me alive if I turn you into a watering pot,” he said gruffly.
“I’m sorry if I’m not as heartless as you want me to be. Maybe you should have married Baisa,” I sniped.
“Say her name,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“Kavya. Say her name. Every time you call her Baisa, you’re keeping yourself tied to the place she assigned to you. Of servant to her princess. You’re not her servant. You’re her equal. So say her name and free yourself of these shackles, Shivina. Only then will you be able to see yourself as equal to the rest of us.”
He was right, I realised. Even when I spoke to his friends, I felt the need to address them by their titles. And I couldn’t even take my own husband’s name. Why the fuck was I behaving like a relic from the black-and-white movies?
“Kavya,” I breathed and held my breath, wondering if the sky was about to fall on my head. Nothing happened, and I realised I had been a bit of a fool.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and turned to meet his knowing gaze.
“Ranvijay,” I whispered. “Would you like to fence with me someday?”
His gaze darkened at the sound of his name on my lips, and he took two steps forward, trapping me against the wall with his arms over my head.
“I’d rather make love to you and hear you scream my name when I make you come, but sure. I can fence with you.”
“What makes you so sure you won’t be the one screaming my name?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Because my mouth will be otherwise occupied,” he replied with a smirk.
Was that a threat or a promise? I wasn’t sure, but it made my body tremble with need. And he knew it.
“When did you last fence?” he asked, stepping back to let me breathe.
“A long time ago.”
“I’ll arrange for an instructor to give you a brush-up if you like.”
“When did you last fence?” I countered.
“Last week,” he replied with his signature smirk. “I train every day. You can join us tomorrow morning if you like.”
Fuck! I was in so much trouble.