She was about to tell Kamla that she won’t be joining him for dinner when Kamla’s smile widened slightly.
“The cooks are preparing several specialty dishes. Some of your favorite dishes, and the rest are Rani Ma’s favorite.”
Yamini frowned. “Rani Ma’s?”
“Rani Suchitra Devi is here, maharani,” Kamla said with her eyes shining. “She arrived early this evening.”
Yamini froze.
Rani Suchitra. Here. At the Jogra palace.
Nobody had warned her.
She looked down at herself.
She was wearing faded jeans and an oversized white t-shirt that held pencil marks. Her hair was carelessly tied into a knot after spending most of the day hanging photographs.
She looked more like an exhausted photographer returning from work than a maharani receiving her mother-in-law for the first time in the palace.
Oh God.
Before she could think of a way to slip past and go to her bedroom from the back of the palace, the large doors opened.
The formal sitting room off the main hall glowed with warm light.
Rani Suchitra Devi sat on the large ivory settee. She was wearing a deep teal silk saree with a gold border, her silver-streaked hair in an elegant bun, a single strand of pearls at her neck.
Mira, Rani Suchitra’s longtime assistant, sat across from her, a slim folder open on her lap, mid-sentence when she saw Yamini frozen at the doorway.
For a brief moment, Yamini still considered retreating and escaping to her room through the back entrance. But taking a deep breath, she stepped in.
Mira smiled warmly. “Maharani Yamini.” She rose slightly in greeting. “It is lovely to see you.”
“You too, Mira.” Yamini was grateful for the warmth.
She looked at Rani Suchitra. “Rani Ma,” she greeted with her heart thudding.
The queen mother's gaze moved over her once, taking in the faded jeans, oversized shirt, escaped strands of hair, and pencil marks with the same regal composure she used during charity galas and political meetings.
“Yamini,” she said with a single, dignified nod.
Yamini stood there awkwardly, not knowing whether to sit or apologize for her untidy appearance.
“Sorry, I wasn't here when you arrived, Rani Ma,” she said. “I was at the studio and didn’t know—”
A sound interrupted her.
Small. Insistent. Deeply familiar.
A soft mew.
Yamini's stomach dropped, and she turned slowly.
Not now. Oh God, not now.
Sheru must have decided that it was an excellent evening for a palace tour. True to his name, the grey-and-white kitten trotted across the marble floor with the confidence of an animal that had never once been told it did not belong somewhere.
He made a beeline directly for Rani Suchitra.
