Chapter 21 #4
I giggled and closed my eyes for a moment. I felt free; the weight on my shoulder disappeared.
My fingers trembled as I gripped his wrist, a feeling of both restriction and liberation washed over me, as if I had finally found what I’d been searching for my whole life.
He kissed me again on the cheek, deeper and longer, and muttered, “This night is yours. Ask for whatever you want; all your wishes will be granted,” he said, making a bright smile cross my lips.
I glanced at the dark path ahead, feeling soothed by the sparkling moonlight.
We were riding on a slight incline, and I felt his weight shift on my back.
Ashwait picked up speed as we raced down the slope, veering onto an empty, sandy path.
The rhythm of the horse’s hooves hitting the ground, our bouncing together on its back, and the icy air hitting my face sent goosebumps across my skin.
“Tell me, Suman, where do you want to spend the night?” he inquired. I bit my lower lip briefly before softly replying, “To the cottage where we spent our first night.” I spoke with apprehension, and he leaned toward my ear.
“Are you sure?” he asked, slowing Ashwait as we neared the edge of a dense forest. I nodded slowly, my fingertips numbing from the cold.
As we entered the woods, the moonlight faded, and he drew me close, whispering, “So, are you happy with me?” His gentle voice made me raise my brows playfully.
“Am I with you?” His chuckle reached my ears as he softly kissed my ear.
“You’re not with me?” he countered.
My lashes grew heavy as I spoke with his tender murmurs and feathery kisses. “Not yet. The world doesn’t know we’re together,” I replied slowly as he leaned again.
“I’ve never grasped the need for societal validation. Why does the world need to know when two people share a connection? Their empty blessings don’t matter,” he said, and I inhaled deeply.
“It's not about validation; it’s about claiming your territory and being responsible for one another,” I explained, receiving another gentle kiss from him.
“What do you mean?” he asked while I gazed at the breathtaking scenery.
“It means asserting that this person is yours, that no one else may harbour romantic feelings for him. It’s also about accountability. Animals do the same; they mark their territory and claim their mates,” I described, and he inhaled sharply close to my ear.
“But people will not support you. Even if you try to announce it, you’ll face challenges at every step,” he responded.
I turned, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I witnessed my parents declare their illicit relationship to the world, trying to be seen as a legitimate marriage. But no one accepted it. After they passed, we weren’t allowed to live in the palace; no one cared for us.
We were labelled the illegitimate children,” he reasoned, and I took a sharp breath, listening intently.
“I didn’t know that,” I confessed, blinking nervously. “I mean, not to this extent.”
“It’s irrelevant whether the world is aware.
What counts is that you know. Relationships accepted by society can still involve betrayal and separations.
The person, unafraid of societal judgments, doesn’t care what others think.
They live a life on their own terms, filled with pride because they know judgments fade with time,” he stated, prompting me to bite my lower lip.
“That’s a way of advocating fearlessness.
But people of royal blood, like you, leave a legacy.
Their actions shape the future and set an example for others; people remember them for it.
That’s the purpose of monarchy: to uphold righteousness,” I articulated, watching a slight smile cross his face as I glanced at him over my shoulder.
“Wow, that’s impressive. You know a lot about politics,” he remarked, catching me off guard.
“Um… It’s merely my opinion. I mean...” I fumbled to find the right words.
“How much have you studied?” he asked.
My gaze dropped in embarrassment. “I studied a little in my childhood—mostly household chores, how to respect others, and such.”
The horse’s hooves thudded softly against the forest floor as I went on, tightening my fingers around the reins.
“But after my husband left and my parents abandoned me, one of my sisters urged me to seek work in Mahabaleshgarh. I passed their tests and became one of Nandani’s maids.
We grew close, and I shared everything with her while she studied. ”
I drew a slow breath as the cool night air steadied me.
“That’s when I grew curious about academics, and she welcomed it.
She made me her study partner, though she was always sharper than I was.
Learning the basics took time, but we read together, discussed things once I mastered reading and writing. ”
I paused briefly before adding, “Nandani had a keen interest in history, politics, and war, which led to passionate debates. She cared deeply for the common folk, too, often sending me into the village to learn what never reached the king.” I lifted my gaze then. “That’s how I learned.”
He held me tighter, stating, “You know, very few truly grasp what royalty is. Most kings view it as power over people, but few understand royals are meant to serve the people.”
I nodded. “Well, that’s true, but I’m glad Ranaji understands this well.
In Mahabaleshgarh, Maharani40 Abhishree introduced many changes that had never happened before.
And, you know, when King Ranvardhan was alive, they would engage in very heated arguments about the people and the children.
Back then, no one could have guessed how much they loved each other. ”
He hummed. “I miss King Rajvardhan. I first met him on Holi,” he said, and I chuckled.
“Yes, I sort of remember that,” I replied.
“Yes, it was Bhabhi-sa and Bhai-sa’s first Holi. Bhabhi-sa visited him, and that’s where I met him for the first time. He was the first king I had seen who was down-to-earth, friendly, and understanding,” he said, and I nodded.
“He was,” I agreed. “He fought for me, too. When my in-laws came to court demanding me back, he outright denied,”
“He did?” he asked, surprised.
I nodded, smiling widely. “Yes, Nandani asked him to do that. He loved both of his children very much, but everyone knew he adored Nandani more than King Abhinandan. He could yell and argue with him, but he never raised his voice at her.”
He chuckled. “That’s why she sometimes acts like a spoiled princess,”
I laughed. “She’s actually sweet,”
He kissed my cheek. “But I didn’t like it when she raised her hand to you,” and I shook my head.
“You know, she cared about me more than my actual mother ever did. Not every slap is derogatory,” I replied, and he inhaled sharply near my neck.
“Do you remember when I hid behind you during that Holi?” he asked, and I nodded timidly.
“Yes, but back then, I felt angry,” I said softly.
“Why?”
I laughed, recalling the memory. “Because I hate Holi. It feels like forced fun.”
He laughed, tightening his arm around my waist. “You’re cute sometimes,” he said, and I furrowed my brows.
“Well, what’s cute about that?” I asked, and he nuzzled his nose below my ear.
“I don’t know. Your rigid opinions on everything,” he replied, and I inhaled sharply, turning my head to look at him.
“Rigid opinions?” I asked, arching a brow.
He nodded. “Yeah, your beliefs are very rigid. It might come from your trauma, but you tend to judge people really quickly,”
“No, I don’t judge people. I mean, I don’t!” I tried to protest and added, “And my beliefs aren’t rigid; they’re based on personal experiences.”
He placed his chin on my shoulder. “Every person, every experience in life is new, Suman,” he said. “You cut an apple, and if it turns out to be rotten, that doesn’t mean all apples are rotten. You ignore it and pick another one.”
I bit my lip. “However, if you find a rotten apple, you’re much more careful when choosing your next one. That’s what experience teaches you.” I reasoned, keeping my voice low.
He nodded. “But that doesn’t mean you should hurt the other apple by judging it and pointing fingers at it.
In life, people aren’t apples. Sometimes, like you, they’re holding their traumas too.
And when you point fingers and question them, they feel nothing but more broken.
It’s like no one trusts them, and that hurts,” he said, and I inhaled deeply, caressing the back of his hand gently.
“Did I say something that hurt you?” I asked, looking at the cottage in front of us.
“Um… not much,” he replied, and pulled the horse’s reins to a halt.
I was unaware, but his words made me realise that something I said had troubled him.
“We’re here,” he stated, dismounting the horse. I smiled when he effortlessly held my waist and put me down.
“How are you so strong?” I inquired, and he grinned.
“Children who grew up without parents are strong,” he said nonchalantly.
I furrowed my brows, shaking my head. “No, I mean, physically,” I clarified, watching him tie Ashwait’s rope to a tree.
He chuckled. “Oh, my dinner keeps me healthy.”
I rolled my eyes, and he held my hand.
“Come with me, love,” I giggled softly at the endearment.
“Love?” I echoed, and he nodded, biting his lower lip.
“Your name is Suman, and if I give you a nickname like Sumu, Suma, or something else, kids will tease you. So, ‘Love’ works well,” he explained, as he opened the door, and we entered the cottage.
“Which kids?” I asked, peering at him.
“Ours.” He said, like it was such an obvious thing.
I felt a blush creeping onto my cheeks. “Our kids? I didn’t expect that,” I said, removing his shawl and hanging it on the rope in the cottage.
“Oh, you didn’t see us coming into this cottage?” he teased, and my eyes widened in disbelief.
“No, but that doesn’t mean it’s for children,” I protested.
He laughed and pulled me closer, pressing his lips to mine.
“How about a change of plans?” he whispered against my lips.
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