The sacred fire had barely settled when a guard entered, bowing low.

"Rajmata Veermati Devi ne Rajsabha mein upasthit hone ka aadesh diya hai, Samraat aur Rani-sa dono ke liye."

Shivanya exchanged a glance with Rudransh.

He gave a tight nod.

Moments later, she walked beside him down the long corridor. Neither spoke.

Outside the darbar, palace nobles, generals, and courtiers stood in long columns. The scent of loban filled the air.

Rajmata sat at the center of the marble court, her crown blazing with rubies. Her expression unreadable. Cold, yet composed.

Shivanya stepped forward and bowed low.

"Rani Shivanya Chandravansh," Rajmata announced. "As per Devgarh tradition, you may now observe the court proceedings from the left of the Samraat."

It was a formality.
Not warmth.

She accepted because it was duty, not desire.

As she sat, her bangles chimed, and the courtiers looked at her with mixed expressions-curiosity, suspicion, awe.

A young bride. A foreign princess. And possibly... a threat.

Whispers began among the nobles. One even mentioned Amarvaan aloud.

But Shivanya sat tall. Regal. Unflinching.

Because she wasn't just any beautiful princess.

She was skilled-in dance, music, swordplay, literature, politics everything that makes her warrior princess. She also learned
The art of moha, of seduction-not for lust. But curiosity.

And she had read too many stories where queens changed fates.

maybe she would be one of them.

Court had ended. The scent of sandalwood still lingered in the corridors of Devgarh, clinging to the silks and air like a memory that wouldn't fade.

She walked ahead of me-barefoot, her feet stained in crimson alta that shimmered with every step. She was regal in silence, her back straight, her gaze forward. The vermillion on her hairline gleamed under the oil lamps.

She didn't look back. She never did.

But she knew.

She knew I was watching.

Every sway of her hips, every casual twist of her bangled wrists-it was deliberate. Like a dance only I was meant to witness.

And god, I watched.

I should have hated her. I told myself I did.

But hatred doesn't burn like this.

---

In the evening

The maids accompanied her through the long corridor. But only one kept close-Saanvi. Loyal. Fierce. The only one who knew what lay beneath Shivanya Rathore's royal veil.

I saw Saanvi hand her something-a small copper bowl, steam curling from it like breath in winter. A herbal preparation. Raw neem, powdered sandal, maybe vetiver. Something bitter, medicinal.

I was smelling something suspicious. I followed them.

They entered our chamber. The door creaked softly.

I stood far away from their eyes. It's wrong. I should've walked away.

I didn't.

The doorway to her chamber was slightly ajar.

I should’ve turned away.
I should’ve walked in, questioned her, shouted maybe.
But I didn’t.

I stood in the shadowed corridor, eyes fixed. Heart thudding louder than any war drum.

Inside, she stood before the mirror. Bare feet on marble. Hair unbound.
A dark river falling down the delicate curve of her spine.
So long... so soft—No. Focus.

Saanvi knelt nearby, grinding something in a small bronze mortar. She squeezed the pulp, and its dark crimson juice bled into a copper bowl.

I knew that plant.
Rajvanshi chandan-leaves—when fermented a certain way, it caused numbness. Burning. Even fever. Not fatal—but close to madness if consumed or absorbed deeply. But it's also harmful if it's touches your skin for long time.

Saanvi dipped a soft cloth into warm water and gently cleansed Shivanya’s inner thighs—her touch gentle, reverent.

My jaw clenched.
What the hell...

Then, as if dismissed by instinct, Saanvi bowed her head and quietly stepped out.

And Shivanya moved.

She picked up the copper bowl of that juice—holding it with both hands as though it were sacred. Dangerous.

She stared at it. Then set it aside.

Another bowl—cooler, glossier—was brought in by Saanvi and placed near the mirror before leaving again.
Aloe pulp.

Shivanya unfastened the side ties of her lehenga, loosened it. And pulled it till her uper thighs.

And then, her fingers dipped into the aloe… and she began applying it carefully between her thighs.

Slow.
Sensual.

Not with haste. Not with shame. With deliberate grace—as if her body was both temple and battlefield.

What the hell was she doing?

She tilted her head slightly, lips parting as she let out a breath. Then, her hand moved again—this time into the first bowl.

And now… she wasn’t applying aloe anymore.

She was applying the herb juice.
That fucking jungli jadibuti

Right there.
Between her legs.

The air in my lungs turned molten. She circled it with slow fingers—massaging it in with precision. With intention.

Was she mad?

The juice would burn. It would inflame every nerve if touched.
If I kissed her there—if I licked her even once—it would feel like fire under the tongue.

And still she did it. Again.
And again.

I could only see her back—but I saw the way her spine arched. The way her shoulders rose as her breath shuddered.

“Let him touch me tonight,” she whispered. “If he dares.”

My fingers curled against the pillar behind me. My teeth clenched.

“Shivanya, are you sure?” Saanvi’s voice came softly from behind the curtain. “It can be harmful for you too...”

“Nothing will happen to me,” she replied. “It’s worth the risk.”

My chest ached with a laugh I didn’t let escape.

She was insane.
No—she was brilliant.
Or broken.
Or both.

“He wants to control me?” she whispered to her own reflection.
“Let him kneel. Let him beg.”

Then she dipped her finger once more into the potion.
And this time… she tasted it.

Crazy...

She raised her slick fingers to her lips, paused—and licked.
A slow, deliberate drag of tongue over skin.

And whispered:

“it's too strong. It will burn him.”

I stepped back.

My mind was on fire. My breath shallow. My blood boiled—not with anger… but with the wildest lust I’d ever felt.

She was mad.
Absolutely mad.
And god… I wanted to feed that madness.

No stop it.
Not now.

Now, Should I give her its antidote or watch her dying by her own stupidity?" I thought to myself.
I should be angry.
But I was enjoying... It's going to be fun,
FOR ME!

I called for Shaurya and sent him to fetch gulab-jal and sandalwood balm—the antidote in case she actually went too far.

But as I turned to go…
I whispered to myself, almost laughing:

“Oh, Rajkumaari…
You think you’re the one laying traps.”

“But tonight... I’ll be the one who watches you squirm.”
“Let’s see how long you can last without begging.”
“And maybe… just maybe... I’ll make you taste it again.” I was smirking on my own thoughts.

It will be fun to torture her.
She is stupid. Hahahaha...

And then one guard came "samraat rajmata asked for you in her chamber"
I just nodded and left.

RAJMATA'S CHAMBER

The air in her chamber was scented with sandalwood and quiet rage.
Rajmata didn’t look up as I stepped inside. She simply moved a single brass diya closer to the idol, letting the silence stretch.

“You really brought her here.”

A statement, not a question.

I folded my arms. “You already knew I would.”

"Forcefully."

I didn't answer.

She faced me now. Her expression unreadable.

"You know what this will do to us? To Devgarh's legacy? To your name?"

"I didn't bring her to protect a legacy," I said.

She said slowly. “Then...You’ve declared war… just not with swords.”

I gave a faint smile. “Why bother with swords when silence can cut deeper?”

She stared at me, her gaze cold but cautious. “She doesn’t belong here.”

A pause.

"She would never!!!" I said with confidence in my voice.

“I didn’t bring her for Devgarh. I brought her here for him.”

“You think this will bring him out of hiding?” Her voice was sharper now. “Dragging her into your hatred?”

“Yes..The way he ruined something that was mine to protect. And then he left it bleeding.”

Rajmata didn’t speak. But I saw the stiffness in her shoulders. The name hung unspoken between us, burning like camphor.

“He destroyed my little one,” I continued, voice low but laced with venom. “And now… I want to see his fall apart. Bit by bit. Breath by breath.”

"And in the meantime? You'll torment her until she bends?"

"Until she breaks down. Until he breaks down"

"And then?, will you leave her?"

I didn't answer, cause I don't know what I'll do after that.

Rajmata sighed, deeply. "Then make sure you don't lose yourself in that understanding."

“She doesn’t know yet,” Rajmata said finally, softer now. “She doesn’t know why you chose her. She just knows that you want revenge against his family, against Rajgarh. That's why you marry her cause of politics. But it's not true.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

“And when she finds out?”

“She’ll already be too broken to fight.”

“When he finds out I married her,” I said without blinking, “he won’t stay silent. He’ll come.”

“And what will you do then?” she asked.

“I’ll welcome him.” I said with ice-cold voice.

She turned her back on me. That was dismissal.

And then sudden she said "Rajkumaari of amarvaan is arriving here, tomorrow"

"Why is she comin- " She stopped me in mid sentence "we'll talk about it tomorrow"

And then I walked out—leaving behind only the scent of vengeance and sandalwood.

---

I went to our chamber the guards stood still. The flame torches had burned low.

I sent the gaurds back. They are not needed today. Then slowly I entered.
Without knock

when I stepped in. Sitting perfectly still on the edge of our bed—like some porcelain figurine carved from royal pride and quiet fear. The flame of the torches had burned low, painting soft gold along the sharp curve of her jaw.

She didn’t turn.

But I saw it—the shift of her eyes, the tension in her neck, the slight parting of her lips like she’d forgotten how to breathe for a second.

I sat beside her. Not too close. Just enough that the silence between us turned dense.

The scent of her—jasmine and fresh wet earth—brushed faintly toward me. She smelled like the kind of monsoon that destroys fields but makes poets write.

"So... As per rituals, married couple has to consummate on their first night."

She flinched. Barely. But I noticed. My lip curled.

looked at her sideways.

She didn’t speak. Her eyes dropped to the floor, probably praying to every deity Rajgarh ever worshipped. I leaned in slightly, brushing my fingers lightly over the bedding between us.

“But it’s still night,” I said, lowering my voice a notch. “And we’re still married.”

Her breath hitched again—oh,
she thought I didn’t hear it? I could hear her pulse louder than the wind outside.

“Let’s do it, rajkumaari” I murmured, looking straight at her.

She turned her head sharply, eyes wide as if she’d just touched burning coal.

Good.

Her fingers curled into the folds of her saree—white again. Always white. Does she wear it as surrender or rebellion?

I can see the fear on her face, but she still hold that fire in her eyes.

I went close to her till I could hear her fast heartbeat.

I touched her Dupatta. She shivered. It slipped from her head. Then, I tossed it aside in the corner of the room.

She really thinks I'm going to do something. Crazy

I inhaled deeply near her ear. She was breathing heavily. I can smell the poision cause it's too storng.

Dumb ways to die by Rajkumaari shivanya.

There was strings of her blouse on her back side. First I thought to open it to scare her more. It was fun to tease her.But it was looking too complicated.

I turned slightly, eyes flickering toward him-he was lounging like some bored demon king on the bed. His elbow rested on the cushion, one leg stretched out lazily while the other tapped against the ground in rhythm, almost like he was counting heartbeats.

Maybe mine.

"So... As per rituals, married couple has to consummate on their first night." He said very casually.

My breath hitched.
Ohh godd... How horny is this monster!!! He got straight to the point.

Now I'm scared. No.. No.. I'm not-
But what should I do now?
Shiva ji... Help me.

"Let's do it, Rajkumaari" He said. Calmly. Like he was asking me to pass the salt.

My heart came in my mouth the second that words left his mouth.

"Untie your lehenga," he said.

His voice was calm. Too calm. That dangerous, slow drawl of his—the kind that coils around your nerves like silk and thorns.

“Huh?” I blinked, pretending I hadn’t heard. Or maybe hoping I hadn’t.

“I said...” His gaze slid over me, heavier than touch, “untie the string of your lehenga.”

I didn’t speak. I just looked at him.

And his eyes—those eyes—were unreadable. Dark. Glinting with something between mockery and anticipation. Like he already knew my secret. Like he was waiting for me to fall into my own trap.

I swallowed. My fingers moved—reluctantly, almost trembling—to the thin dori near my waist.

The poison burned beneath my skin even now. Hidden. Dangerous.
But not as dangerous as him.

I loosened the knot with slow fingers. The rustle of fabric was loud in the chamber, like thunder in still air. The lehenga slid slightly, exposing the softness of my skin, the vulnerability I had tried to turn into a weapon.

“And?” I asked, trying to match his tone. I hated how breathless I sounded.

He leaned in.

The air between us shifted, warmer, thicker. His breath ghosted near my jaw.

"And..." He whispered,
"Insert your fingers down there. Then lick it slowly. Show me if your little jungle medicine works. Maybe I'll join you later."

My hands froze.

What?

My eyes snapped to his. He was watching me—like a hawk that had already stripped away every feather I’d used to hide.

He knows.
He knows.
He knows.

Wait... Saanvi?
No. She’d never. She took an oath on my name. She would never betray me.

Then how?

"Hurry up, Rajkumaari," he drawled, voice a wicked caress laced in command. "Lick it. So I know what exactly you planned to give me. Or..." —his lips curled into something dark— "do you want me to taste it first?"

He tilted his head slightly, like it was a generous offer. Like I should be thankful he hadn’t dragged me across the room by my hair.

This man was insane.

"You knew?" I asked softly, unable to stop my voice from shaking.

He smiled. No... no, he smirked—and it wasn’t the kind of smile that touches the heart.
It was the kind that makes even goddesses flinch.

"I know everything that touches your skin," he murmured, voice silken, lethal. "And everything that tries to harm mine."

And then he stood—slow, deliberate, like a lion waking from a nap it never needed. Like the room belonged to him.
Like I belonged to him.

"You thought you could harm me with petals and perfume?"

He laughed.
A cruel, bone-deep sound.
Not mocking—amused. Like my little scheme had entertained him.

He looked down at me, our eyes locking.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

He leaned in, breath warm against the shell of my ear. “So desperate to kill me...Rajkumaari.”

That’s when something inside me sparked.
I looked up with fire in my gaze, letting the fury rise in my chest. But he didn’t move back.

His voice dropped—no longer teasing. There was steel in his tone now.

“You think I brought you here to let you play games?” he said, tone flat. “I brought you here to suffer... not to suffer because of you.”

His eyes darkened. “You crossed a line, Shivanya. I’ve spared you once. That was enough.”

I swallowed. But didn’t speak.
He straightened, his jaw tight. “Now just keep calm and Sleep—”

His voice dropped into a deadly whisper.
"..Or I’ll make sure you don’t get a wink of sleep all night."

He turned away, grabbing a folded cloth and wiping his hands as though he was scrubbing off the conversation.

“Don’t test my patience again,” he muttered, “or you’ll regret it before the night ends.”

And just like that, he walked to his side of the bed and lay down—spine straight, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

I turned away, heart still thudding like a trapped animal. But I didn't say a word.

The silence between us burned louder than any scream.He thought this was over.
He had no idea what I was capable of.
.
.
.

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