CHAPTER 12
Storm Warnings
VIHAAN
I lean back in the cushioned chair, swirling the glass of water in my hand as Sitara keeps tapping furiously on her phone, lips pressed into a thin line.
That little crease between her brows? It only shows up when she’s either planning trouble or worrying about someone else’s. I’m betting on the latter this time.
“I got a message from Jyotika,” she announces finally, her voice clipped, and for a second, all of us look up from whatever distraction we were pretending to focus on.
I raise a brow. “And…?”
“She said Lalita Maasi-sa is coming.”
The glass pauses midair in my hand. Veeraj groans loudly, throwing his head back like the world’s ending. “When will this torture end?”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out. “Dude, that sounds bad,” I tease, giving him a nudge with my elbow.
He sits up straighter, frowning. “What? You know how cunning she is.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” I shake my head, memories flashing like quick lightning.
The last time Maasi-sa visited, she had practically turned the entire palace into her personal chessboard, manipulating people like pawns.
She somehow managed to convince one of the council members that the Shekawat lineage needed “refining.” The argument went on for hours before Bhai-sa finally threw her out of the hall.
And yet, she smiled when leaving, like she had planted seeds we didn’t even know about yet.
“She convinced three staff members to resign just because the welcome tea wasn’t served on time,” Veeraj adds bitterly, like he’s reliving the trauma.
“Not to mention,” I say, setting my glass down with a dull thud, “she somehow got the old chef rehired—who then spread rumors about palace accounts being in loss.”
Bhai-sa has been quiet all this while, arms folded across his chest, gaze fixed on some distant spot on the wall. He doesn’t usually sit quietly unless something’s really pressing on his mind.
“We need to entertain her, however,” he finally speaks, tone calm but laced with that underlying steel that always makes people listen.
“Why?” Sitara snaps her head toward him, eyes wide. “Why do we need to entertain her?”
There’s a pause—a beat heavy enough to make the entire room go still. Bhai-sa exhales, his jaw ticking.
“After…” He hesitates for a fraction before continuing, “after I banished Rajmata, she’s been trying to contact me. I never replied.”
Sitara lets out a sharp breath and throws her hands in the air. “So it’s all your fault!”
“Tara,” Bhai-sa says in that warning tone of his, but there’s playfulness in his voice. A rare softness only she can pull out of him.
“What?” she slouches dramatically in her seat, glaring like a sulking child. “I don’t like her.”
I chuckle under my breath. “No one does, Tara,” I assure her, grinning at the way she’s fuming.
She straightens suddenly, eyes sparkling with mischief—or maybe dread. Hard to tell with her. “Oh, and guess what?”
I groan. “What now?”
“Ranbir bhai-sa is also coming.”
The words hang in the air like a sudden drop in temperature.
I feel my chest tighten as I glance at Bhai-sa. His body stiffens—shoulders going rigid, jaw set so tight I can almost hear the grind of his teeth.
Great. Just great.
Ranbir. The name alone is enough to churn my gut.
The man’s a walking storm, chaos wrapped in charm, and worst of all—he knows exactly how to use both to his advantage.
I’ve never trusted him. Not once. There’s something about the way his eyes glint when he smiles—a little too sharp, a little too calculating. And now he’s coming here?
Wonderful.
I swear silently to myself: I’ll keep Poorvi a hundred feet away from these two. She doesn’t need to get sucked into this mess, not after the way she’s just started finding her footing here. Her world is fragile right now, and I’ll be damned if anyone—Maasi-sa or Ranbir—so much as grazes it.
“Sitara,” Bhai-sa says firmly, snapping the tension like a whip. “You know how they both are. However…” His voice softens, though it’s still commanding. “Poorvi and Meher have never met them.”
Sitara tilts her head, and then a slow, mischievous smile spreads on her face. “I’ll take care of them.”
I don’t buy that look for a second.
“But…” She lifts a finger, the smile widening like a cat that just cornered its prey.
Here we go.
“I need a room and privacy for my digital artwork from Devraj bhai-sa…”
I bite back a laugh as Bhai-sa’s brow arches slowly. She’s smart—always cashing in her demands when the timing makes it impossible to refuse.
“…and all the latest models of tabs from you, Vihaan bhai-sa.”
I roll my eyes dramatically, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Of course. Anything else, Your Highness?”
She pouts and turns to Veeraj, who’s been unusually quiet—probably strategizing ways to escape this conversation. “And I wish you were married, too.”
He laughs. Actually laughs. And it’s so rare that all of us stare at him like he just grew a second head.
“I don’t need to be married to give gifts to my sister,” he says, shaking his head.
Her face lights up instantly. “Really?”
“What do you want, Rajkumari?” he asks, and there’s actual amusement in his tone now.
“A favor,” she says, smug like a cat who just got the cream.
He narrows his eyes. “And what favor is that?”
“I’ll use it later.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but the sparkle in her eyes screams otherwise.
Veeraj groans but extends his hand anyway. She slaps her smaller one into his, and they shake on it like it’s a legally binding contract.
It’s something they’ve done since childhood—a silent pact of trust that never broke, no matter how much they fought. I watch them with a small smile, shaking my head. For a moment, the tension eases, laughter lingers, and the weight of Maasi sa and Ranbir fades into the background.
But only for a moment.
Because deep down, I know this calm is temporary. And whatever storm they’re bringing with them? I’ll do whatever it takes to shield Poorvi from it.
Even if it means stepping into the storm myself.