CHAPTER 14
Between a King and a Husband
MEHER
I’m still adjusting the dupatta around my shoulders when Maharaj clears his throat. His tone is clipped, formal, the kind of voice I’ve only heard him use when he’s issuing instructions to his staff.
“You will take two guards with you. And a female staff member.”
I blink at him, unsure if I’ve heard him right. “Maharaj, I’m going amongst children. Children. I am very sure no one can harm me there.”
My voice sounds calm, but inside I’m bristling. I hate the idea of walking into that little school surrounded by uniformed guards. It will only remind the children that I’m now different, that I don’t belong to their world the way they do.
“It’s not up for discussion, Meher.” His jaw tightens, a flicker of steel entering his otherwise controlled expression.
I cross my arms, raising a single eyebrow at him. I’ve learned that this unnerves him more than raised voices ever could.
He exhales, long and quiet, and then, almost too softly for me to believe it, he whispers, “Please.”
The sound steals my breath. The word, the tone. For a moment, I don’t recognize him. Is this the same man who carries the weight of an entire royal legacy on his shoulders? Who commands an entire palace with nothing more than a look?
I tilt my head, my voice slower, quieter. “Is this the king requesting me? Or my husband?”
His eyes hold mine steadily. “A king orders, Meher. Never requests.” His answer is so soft, yet it lands with the force of something heavier.
My chest tightens. My breath hitches before I can stop it. Husband. He didn’t deny it.
After a beat of silence, I swallow, suddenly unsure of myself. “Okay,” I whisper back, softer than I intend. Then, gathering myself, I add, “Can we…drop it down to one man? I don’t want to scare the kids.”
Something in his gaze shifts, like the tide rolling back after a storm. He nods once.
When it’s time to leave, he gestures toward the corridor. “I’ll see you to the car.”
“There’s no need for that,” I say quickly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. He doesn’t need to hover.
“I am heading that way,” he says evenly, his tone making it sound less like an offer and more like fact. “Let me accompany you.”
I hesitate. Then nod. “Alright.”
We walk side by side, the silence between us taut, layered with things neither of us seems ready to voice. I’m hyperaware of his presence, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the air, the weight of his stride matching mine.
But all thoughts scatter when I see the car waiting at the entrance, a sleek black BMW gleaming in the sun.
“Could you have chosen a bit more of a… decent car?”
He frowns, stopping for a second as if I’ve insulted him. “If it isn’t decent, I will ask them to bring a better model immediately.”
A startled laugh bursts out of me before I can hold it back. “No, no—that’s not what I meant. I meant, in your language… a worse car. Something simpler.”
I glance at him, half-expecting irritation. Instead, I find him already looking at me, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips. It does something strange to me, that smile.
“I will take care of that,” he says quietly.
“Thank you,” I murmur, surprising myself with how soft my voice sounds.
He steps ahead, opening the car door for me with the kind of grace that makes it look like instinct rather than habit. Just as I’m settling into the seat, his hand still on the door, he leans slightly closer.
“You look beautiful when you laugh.”
The words hang in the air, unexpectedly intimate. My pulse stumbles. My mouth goes dry.
“Not always?” I ask, faking a little frown, trying to lighten the weight of his gaze.
His eyes widen just a fraction, the unguarded reaction almost endearing. “I mean—yes, of course, you look beautiful always. Obviously.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his flustered tone. But I school my face, softening my voice. “It’s okay, Maharaj. I was just teasing.”
He studies me for a moment—really studies me, as if memorizing the way I said that. Then, slowly, a smile curves his lips. Small. Genuine.
“Have a good day, Meher.”
“You, too,” I whisper, just before he closes the door.
The world outside muffles into silence as the car starts. I lean back against the seat, pressing a hand to my heart as if I can calm its frantic pace.
What the hell am I doing? And more terrifyingly, what is he doing with me?