Yamini had seen such pieces worn by royalty during some of the events she had attended along with her parents.
She was passing by one such display when she suddenly stopped.
She didn’t realize she had until Pooja took two steps ahead and turned back, puzzled.
“Yamini?”
Yamini stood frozen before a glass case near the far wall.
Inside lay a gold chain. It was simple, almost understated compared to the other pieces. But the pendant stole her breath.
A fish.
It was crafted in emerald so deep it bordered on forest green, and it was edged delicately with diamonds that caught the light without overwhelming the stone.
Something about it reached into her chest and tightened.
She stepped closer, her pulse quickening as she read the small placard beside the case.
Late 19th century.
Commissioned by a northern ruler for his consort of coastal origin.
Emerald and diamond pendant.
Privately held for generations.
Entered auction mid-20th century.
Yamini’s breath caught as her mind flooded with memories.
Her mother’s voice, warm and nostalgic, telling her stories at bedtime.
You get your skin from her, you know.
Her father’s exasperated sigh whenever Yamini came home scraped, bruised, or covered in dirt.
Those fisherwoman genes,he’d mutter.No fear at all.
And the pride she’d always felt.
The fisherwoman maharani. Her great-grandmother. Rani Vidharba Singh Gaur.
A woman who had grown up by the sea, wild and unpolished. She had caught a king’s attention who fell in love with her at first sight.
The necklace had been a gift. A declaration of undying love.
Yamini had always loved that story. It wasn’t because of the king falling in love, but because of the woman. Wild and unpolished and completely herself, and someone had looked at her and seen a queen.
She had wanted that, once. To be seen completely and chosen anyway.
She wasn't sure she still believed it was possible.
Pooja leaned closer. “Do you know who this belongs to?”
“Yes,” Yamini replied softly. “It belonged to my great-grandmother.”
Pooja looked at her in surprise.
