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And I was right.
I pushed past the people holding me back and rushed out of my room to the balcony that overlooked the great hall.
My parents were greeting Dheer’s mother and his sister, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to find my brother staring down at me sympathetically. He squeezed my shoulder once.
“It’s going to be bad, Diya. But we’ll get through this,” he promised.
What was going to be bad? And where the hell was Dheer?
And then I heard it. A tinkle of laughter that sounded like bells. The herald of my doom.
I could only stare in surprise and confusion as Dheer walked into the great hall of my father’s ancestral palace with his arm around a woman. A tall, statuesque woman, wearing the distinctive jewellery of a Trikhera bride. I stared at the three-headed viper necklace and armband that were a custom modification of an ancient Bvlgari design, worn by every Trikhera bride for the past one hundred years.
He greeted my parents politely and then brought her forward.
“Your Highnesses, may I have the honour of introducing my fiancée, Raksha?”
The blood in my veins turned to ice and I turned to Veer in confusion.
“Did he just say… fiancée?”
Veer led me to my room and I followed him numbly. What the fuck was going on?
I was going to marry Dheer! So who was this fucking Raksha?
“It’s true, Diya. No one knows anything about where or how he met her. His folks are as shocked by his announcement as we are.”
“But… how is this possible?” I asked as my throat closed.
Veer shook his head in disgust.
“The fucking bastard says it was love at first sight.”
And just like that, my world splintered into nothingness.
CHAPTER 1
DIYA
“Smile,” ordered my best friend, Isha, passing me a suspiciously yellow cocktail.
I sniffed it gingerly and grimaced at the strong whiff of alcohol that emanated from it.
“No, thank you,” I replied. “I’m here under duress. This is practically a kidnapping, Isha Shekhawat. And you know it. You’re supposed to be my best friend, no? Then help me get out of here!”
She rolled her eyes as she drained her glass and licked her lips.
“This is yummm,” she said happily, reaching for my glass.
I gave it up willingly because the thought of saffron mixed with vodka made my stomach turn.
“Don’t blame me if you get alcohol poisoning,” I warned. “You know as well as I do that desi royals are too cheap to use the good liquor for big parties. I bet our hostess ordered the booze in barrels from the local theka.”
“The Rani Ma of Mirpur is not like that. I’ve met her before and she’s always been very gracious.”
I snorted in derision at her naiveté.
“Don’t be fooled, Isha. All these royal aunties know how to weaponise their graciousness. They will be very sweet and polite as they rip you to shreds with their sharp tongues. Now, if you’re done sucking down your fifth cocktail, can we please leave?”
