They stepped forward together.
“Congratulations.” The tall, dusky-skinned man who greeted first was Ram. Bharat's oldest brother and Devara maharaja from the south.
Another brother greeted with a curt nod. “Welcome.” Samar was the Keshwa maharaja from the west.
The next brother greeted her formally, but she sensed a hint of amusement along with curiosity. He was Bharat’s youngest brother, Viraj, the Sahom maharaja from the northeast.
Yamini inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling unsure.
Bharat responded with a brief nod to his brothers, nothing more.
She noticed that none of Bharat’s brothers seemed shocked by her and Bharat visiting the Rewa Palace in wedding clothes.
In fact, his brothers looked as though they had been expecting the visit.
Which meant Bharat must have told them.
Did they know after the ceremony or before?
If they had known before, why hadn’t they attended the wedding?
Before she could think of a reason, a soft chiming sound drifted from inside the palace.
The sound of anklets and footsteps.
A group of women emerged, dressed in traditional attire, carrying trays of flowers and lit lamps as part of a welcome ritual. At the center of them stood two women Yamini recognized immediately.
Rani Suchitra Devi and Mira, her longtime aide.
Rani Suchitra looked almost the same as Yamini remembered. Elegant, composed, and commanding without effort. Only the fine streaks of grey woven into her hair hinted at the years that had passed.
A sharp ache bloomed in Yamini’s chest.
One of her deepest regrets about running away five years ago wasn’t just the humiliation it had caused to their families. It was what it had done to the friendship between their mothers.
Rani Suchitra Devi had been one of the very few friends Yamini’s mother was allowed to have. Their meetings had been rare, but when they happened, Yamini remembered the way her mother’s face would light up. There would always be laughter, warmth, and ease.
She doubted that the bond had survived what Yamini had done.
Rani Suchitra Devi approached. There was no warm smile, and her eyes were guarded.
“Rani Ma,” Yamini greeted softly, using the term she had used since her childhood.
Rani Suchitra looked at her. And there was only a short regal nod.
Yamini felt her throat tighten at the cold response.
“Mouj,” Bharat said calmly. “I’ve married Princess Yamini.”
The words echoed in the open air.
Rani Suchitra Devi’s expression didn’t change. But her eyes flickered as though weighing the implications. Then she gave another regal nod.
“Pay your respects to your grandmother,” Rani Suchitra commanded softly.
Yamini’s heart beat nervously as they walked deeper into the palace.
They stopped outside a set of older doors that were darker, heavier, and guarded by attendants.
