Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
RANVIJAY
S hivina stared at me with those luminous eyes, and I lost track of what I was saying. How the fuck was I supposed to keep my distance from her when she stared at me like that?
At least she’d lost that hair tie thing. I decided to ban all hair tie things from my palace. Then she’d have no choice but to wear her hair down all the time. It was a crime to tie up those glorious curls.
“Say that again?” she breathed.
Umm, I would if I could remember what I was saying… oh, right. About her hair.
“I love your hair. It’s very distracting,” I said gruffly.
Her misty smile turned into a frown.
“Distracting?”
“In a good way,” I explained hastily. “It’s a welcome distraction.”
She took a deep breath and went up on her knees.
“I want to try something,” she whispered.
I nodded warily, wondering where this was going.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine softly. I held my breath, wanting to pull her into my arms but not wanting to scare her away. I had to admit… being a gentleman was fucking hard work. I swear I did my best. Until her tongue traced the seam of my lips. That’s when I lost control.
I opened my mouth and invited her to explore while I slid my arms around her and pulled her close. And she fought to get even closer. I smiled and rolled her onto her back as I took control of the kiss.
Shivina wound her arms around my neck and moaned into my mouth, and I could have sworn that little sound went straight to my groin. I pulled away to catch my breath, and as we stared into each other’s eyes, I wondered how the situation had turned so quickly from an experiment to an explosion.
She reached up to kiss me again, but just as our lips met, there was a loud knock at the door. With a groan, I raised my head and stared at the door in disbelief. Who the hell was disturbing us in the middle of the night?
The knock came again.
“Hukum, Rani Sa needs to prepare for the early morning puja,” called Sannata.
“So come back in the morning,” I growled.
“Haye haye, look at the time, Hukum. It is morning,” she insisted. “The priest is already here. You’re both expected downstairs in thirty minutes.”
“Welcome to palace life, Rani Sa,” I grumbled as I threw myself onto the bed next to her. “Where pujas take priority over pyaar.”
Shivina started laughing uncontrollably, and I forced myself to stay still. This was the first time I’d heard her laugh since I’d met her. I forced myself to hold space and let her have the moment, even though I wanted to see her eyes sparkle with laughter. Even though I wanted to feel her body shaking against mine. Because more than anything, I wanted her to feel comfortable enough to laugh in my palace.
She sat up and shot me an awkward glance.
“I guess I’m needed downstairs,” she said, biting her lip.
Then she stared at me suspiciously.
“What’s wrong with your face?” she asked.
I felt my face, and nothing seemed out of place. I ran to the mirror to check, and again, I found nothing.
“What is it?” I asked in confusion.
The corners of Shivina’s lips turned up in a slow, wicked smile that made my heart slam into my ribcage.
“Nothing. I was just surprised to see the ferociously grumpy Maharaja smile for a change,” she replied before she sauntered out of the room.
I turned back to the mirror and realised she was right. I was smiling.
Which was surprising, seeing how my life plans had been overturned just a day ago.
A few hours later, we were all on the terrace where I’d got engaged to Kavya barely a week ago, enjoying a leisurely breakfast after the morning’s round of rituals. Shivina was wearing one of my mother’s outfits because she had refused to touch the clothes Ma had bought for Kavya.
“Uff, she’s so stubborn,” said Kumudini Kaki Sa, sounding horrified as she threw herself into the chair next to me. “Beta, she threatened to attend the puja in her pyjamas. It was only when Didi Sa offered her a never-worn lehenga from her collection that she calmed down and agreed to dress like a Maharani. I know you mean well, Ranvijay beta, but think again. For the sake of your family’s pride, think about whether this is the kind of woman who should raise the next Mirpur Maharaja.”
Diya, who was sitting next to me, put a hand on my arm to contain my outburst, but I refused to rise to Kaki Sa’s bait because Shivina didn’t look upset about the issue, and neither did my mother. I was surprised to see my aunt at the puja because I thought she’d left the palace in a state of high dudgeon last night, but she’d clearly chosen not to cut off all ties with the palace. As long as she’d left Sangram back home, I had no objection to her presence in my house.
“I’d say that’s exactly how a Maharani should behave. You can’t expect her to wear Kavya’s rejects, Kaki Sa. And she showed my mother immense respect when she agreed to wear her clothes. What more do you expect?”
“But… but…”
I held up a hand, and my aunt froze at the icy smile on my face.
“Shivina will only add to the family’s pride, Kaki Sa. Unlike some people who are born into royalty but choose to behave like trash. I hope Sangram is doing well this morning,” I said meaningfully.
Kaki Sa pursed her lips and looked away before she rose from the chair with a muttered excuse. I turned to Diya, who was munching on a huge plate of chopped watermelon slathered with what looked like mayonnaise and chilli oil. I shuddered at the sight, and she smiled sweetly as she offered me a piece.
“That’s disgusting,” I said, trying not to gag.
“It’s delicious,” she insisted, munching away happily.
“If you’d stop eating for a minute, woman, I need your help.”
“I can help you even while I’m eating,” she retorted. “Because, unlike you poor men, women are capable of multitasking.”
Just then, Isha stomped over to our table.
“Diya, you fluffy-headed freak! You locked me in the tijori room,” she said angrily.
Diya looked up from her watermelon in surprise.
“No, I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did!” insisted Isha. “You promised Nandini Aunty you’d lock up the room after we cleaned up the pieces of jewellery she wanted.”
“And I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you forgot I was in there. I turned my back for one second to make sure we hadn’t left any jewellery out in the open, and the next second, the door slammed shut, and I realised you’d locked me in. It took me ages to get out of there because you took my phone with you, too.”
“I’m so sorry, babe. Blame it on pregnancy brain, but I got this sudden craving for watermelon as we finished up in there, and I made straight for the kitchen to request a plate of the cut fruit,” said Diya sheepishly.
“Pregnancy brain doesn’t give you the right to almost assassinate your best friend, you moron,” grumbled Isha as she took up a seat on my other side.
“If this is an example of your multitasking, I’m so screwed,” I said in dismay.
“Umm, rude!” replied Diya with a scowl.
“No! Now I’m worried you’ll drop Shivina into the moat instead of helping her,” I snapped.
“I thought you said you didn’t have a moat,” said Shivina drily from behind me.
Isha and Diya smiled in delight as my wife took her place at our table. Right across from me.
“I never said that. I only said we don’t have a gharial in the moat because it’s dry.”
“Right, that’s when you threatened me with the hyenas,” she replied, with that wicked, crooked smile that begged me to retaliate in kind.
“I didn’t threaten you,” I argued.
“You did. I heard you,” inserted Isha helpfully.
“Don’t you have something useful to do?” I bit out, and she shook her head gleefully.
“Nope.”
“And why would I need Rani Sa’s help anyway?” asked Shivina, coming straight to the point.
“Well, Diya has a wonderful new fashion house, and I thought she could help you pick out some new clothes.”
Shivina gave me a cold and steady look.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Well…”
Before I could reply, she turned to the others.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asked them just as coldly.
“Nothing. Not a damn thing,” replied Isha, shovelling a huge chunk of mayo and chilli oil-coated watermelon into her mouth to avoid saying anything else.
Diya was braver than she was.
“Except that you’re having to wear Nandini Aunty’s hand-me-downs because you don’t have bridal clothes of your own,” she said gently.
Isha slammed her hand on the table, and we turned to her in surprise. She was struggling to eat the watermelon, and she waved a hand around wildly, clearly asking for something. Shivina rolled her eyes and handed her a paper napkin. With a sigh of relief, Isha spat out the fruit and turned to glare at Diya.
“I swear to God, woman. You have it in for me today. That’s the second time you’ve tried to kill me,” she accused.
“Who asked you to eat my fruit?” demanded Diya.
A peal of laughter took us by surprise, and we turned to see Shivina laughing at the two friends bickering like kindergarteners.
“As I was saying before our resident drama queen interrupted me so rudely,” said Diya, with a glare at her bestie. “You’re going to need a lot of bridal clothes for your first year of marriage, Shivina. We’re Rajputana royalty. There’s a festival or celebration happening practically every month, and all eyes are going to be on the new Maharani. You have to dress for the occasion, or you’ll be trolled mercilessly, first by the nasty aunties in our circle and then by the vellas on social media who think they are experts on royal couture.”
Shivina sighed deeply.
“The thing is that royal couture comes with a royal price tag, Rani Sa. And I think it’s best to be upfront right now. I cannot afford such clothes. Kavya Baisa’a mother might have packed seven trunks full of appropriate clothes for her, but I have no mother, and I had no time to build a trousseau even within my budget. So I’m afraid the aunties and the trolls will have to deal with their disappointment because I don’t think I can meet the lofty standards required of a Maharani,” she said bluntly.
I cleared my throat meaningfully.
“You seem to forget something very important, Shivina. You have one thing none of those aunties, trolls or Dodiyas have,” I said.
“And what’s that?”
“A fucking Maharaja,” I snapped.
“Exactly,” chimed in Isha. “You’re married to one of the richest men in the country. There’s nothing you can’t afford, you fool!”
“I can’t allow you to waste so much money on me,” Shivina argued. “Besides, these grand clothes aren’t my style. Your aunt picked out the lehenga, and I don’t think it looks so great on me.”
“It looks lovely,” I insisted, and she shot me a furious look. All three of them did.
“I might be poor, but I’m not blind, Your Highness. And while I haven’t been exposed to such clothes until now, I do know when an outfit looks good on me. And this one doesn’t,” she said angrily. “I look like I’m wearing a tent.”
“I agree this isn’t your style, Shivina,” began Diya, but I cut her off. I couldn’t believe she was being nasty to my wife.
“Shivina looks wonderful in everything she chooses to wear,” I said firmly.
Diya groaned loudly and set her plate down with a thump.
“But this is not what she chose to wear, you big idiot. This choice was forced on her by your aunt, who has as much sense of style as one of the camels roaming across our desert. I know you’re trying to protect her feelings, but treating her like she can’t think for herself is not the way to do it.”
“I’d never do that,” I protested.
“Then why are you invalidating her opinion?” asked Isha sharply. “If she feels she doesn’t like the way an outfit looks on her, then that’s all that matters because it’s her body and her choice. I know you mean well, RV, but you still have a lot to learn about women.”
Clearly, I thought with frustration, my closest friends had ganged up on me to impart that education.
“You can say what you like, but you will not make my wife feel bad about herself,” I declared.
“You look so cute when you try to lay down the law,” teased Diya.
“I’m serious,” I snapped. “Shivina, you’re drop-dead gorgeous the way you are, and I won’t let anyone convince you otherwise. I can ban these two from the palace if they give you any grief.”
“Uff! Give it a rest, will ya? We’re trying to help your wife, not harass her.”
“And I’m grateful for that help,” said Shivina gently. “But I cannot afford to buy too many expensive clothes right now. I need to save for my sister’s future.”
“I will buy you all the clothes you need,” I reminded her. “I’ll give you an unlimited allowance just for clothes and jewellery.”
“No, you won’t,” she said sharply. “Not until we get to know each other better. Your mother’s clothes will do for now for special occasions, and for other times, I’ll wear my own clothes.”
“How about a compromise?” asked Diya diplomatically.
I was up for anything that would break this standoff. It was ridiculous of Shivina to refuse an unlimited clothes allowance. Any other woman would have jumped at the idea. But my wife seemed to think there was something wrong with accepting my money.
“I’m listening,” said Shivina.
“The new Maharani of Mirpur can be the face of my fashion house. Which means I’ll pay you to wear my clothes.”
Shivina stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“You mean like a celeb or a model? But I am neither.”
“Girl, you’re a celeb now, whether you like it or not,” exclaimed Isha. “Take it to the bank!”
“But these heavy clothes are just not my style, Rani Sa. Why would you pay to make your clothes look bad?” asked Shivina sceptically.
Diya cast a disparaging look at her outfit.
“That ghastly lehenga is not my style either. Nor is it Nandini Aunty’s style, which is why it was still brand new and wrapped in tissue paper. Why don’t you come by the studio tomorrow and have a look at the collection? If you feel it could suit your style, I’d be very happy to have you onboard. And I know you don’t believe this yet, but you’re going to be forced into the limelight anytime now. You can either embrace it and make it your friend, or you can skulk in the shadows. But you can never hide from it,” she said wisely.
Shivina still looked conflicted.
With a groan, Diya pushed herself out of her chair.
“I’m going to find my husband and head home. Think about what I’ve said, Shivina, and ping me if you want to see the collection. Come along, Isha. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone. I’ll get you some jalebi and rabri to make up for the watermelon.”
Shivina stared at the table thoughtfully after they left.
“What’s the real issue here?” I asked her softly because I wanted to know why she was so averse to me buying her some clothes.
She looked around to see if we could be overheard and spoke softly.
“The real issue is that all of this is temporary, Your Highness. Why should I change my life to the point where I have to change the way I look if we’re going to split up as soon as I have your heir? It just seems like a waste of money.”
Wow! She was thinking of a future without me when our present was just beginning. It shouldn’t have stung so much, but it did. I blew out a sharp breath and ignored the sting of rejection.
“What do you think is going to happen after we have the baby? Do you think you can go back to your old life?”
She stared at me uncomprehendingly.
“Well…”
“Once a Maharani, always a Maharani, Shivina. Even if you divorce me, you will still be the mother of my heir. You will still live in one of my properties. You will still be a loved and respected part of our circle. If we have a child together, you can never exit our world. There’s no going back now.”