“Some day soon, I’m going to carry you off to my bedroom and never let you go,” he said between kisses.
“You could do it right now,” I gasped, as he nibbled on the delicate skin beneath my ear.
Samrat pulled away with a groan.
“Stop tempting me, you witch! Fine! Have it your way! I’ll speak to your father as soon as I get back from probation,” he promised with another long, deep kiss.
But his promises meant nothing.
Because when my world turned upside down the next morning, Samrat was the first one to turn his back on me.
CHAPTER 1
MEHER
EIGHT YEARS LATER
Iraised my eyebrows at the cavalcade that drew up in the driveway of our ancestral palace in Matta. Armed guards got out of the first and fifth cars, and surveyed our cobbled driveway as I stared at the row of armored Defenders between them in bemusement. Each carried the flag of a different royal family on its bonnet. I recognised them as the flags of the Jadhwal, Trikhera, and Mirpur families.
“You’re overreacting as usual, Bhai Sa,” complained a very familiar voice, as I stepped forward to greet my guests. “Nobody’s going to shoot at us in Matta. Tell your men to stand down. Now!”
Her Highness Isha Sisodiya, the Yuvarani of Jadhwal, ended her phone call and stepped out of the first Defender.
“What’s with the Z+ security?” I asked, as I leaned forward to give her a warm hug.
She rolled her eyes in disgust.
“You get shot at a couple of times, and suddenly you can’t move without tripping over armed guards,” she grumbled. “Stupid Veer, and stupid Dheer, and even more stupid Ranvijay!”
A woman alighted from the car behind her and rolled her eyes at Isha.
“Ohmigod! Are you ever going to stop whining?” demanded Her Highness Diya Shekhawat, the Maharani of Trikhera, before she hugged me tightly. “We were on a group call throughout the journey, and this one has been complaining since she got into her car. And I’ll thank you not to insult my husband. Poor Dheer is still traumatised by the time we almost got blown up the day Kuhu was born.”
“Your husband happens to be my stupid brother, and I’ll insult him all I like,” retorted Isha.
“The two of you haven’t changed at all,” I said with a laugh that sounded rusty.
At the sound of it, Isha and Diya stopped squabbling and turned to inspect me critically.
“Finally! I thought you’d forgotten how to laugh,” said Isha softly.
“I know! I miss that rakshas laugh of yours,” added Diya.
I squinted a little as I tried to remember my rakshas laugh - a carefree sound that was filled with the sheer joy of being alive and privileged. I hadn’t laughed like that in eight years.
“Yeah, well… I guess times change,” I said awkwardly.
“Some things don’t need to change, Meher,” said Diya. “I’m going to get that laugh back this weekend. See if I don’t!”
“Challenge accepted,” declared Isha, and I shook my head.
My oldest friends were still the same. Kind, non-judgmental, and accepting. It was I who had changed, and I didn’t think I could ever go back to being the girl I used to be. That Meher was dead.
But it was okay. Because the new Meher was strong and fierce. And she didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about her.
“Good luck with that,” I said dryly before I turned to welcome my third guest.
“Meher, meet Shivina Singh Rathore, the Maharani of Mirpur,” said Diya, and the newcomer smiled at me warmly.
