Nayantara pov:

The air in my chamber was heavy with the scent of sandalwood and gold-embroidered silk, but it felt more like a golden cage than a sanctuary.

"Princess, gifts have arrived from Rajgarh," an attendee announced, stepping inside with a low bow.

I didn't even lift my eyes from the parchment in my hand. "Only gifts?"

"Yes, Princess."

I gave a silent, curt nod, dismissing her. Once the heavy doors closed, I set my book face-down on the side table.

Only gifts this time, as expected, I thought, letting out a long, weary sigh.

A little later, I sat on the plush velvet couch while a dozen attendees crouched on the marble floor, opening mahogany chests and displaying shimmering fabrics, jeweled daggers, and pearls. My eyes glazed over. I was utterly fed up with seeing these lavish offerings from Rajgarh.

The former King, Prakash Raj Singh of Rajgarh, and my father, King Ujjaval Dev Singh of Indragarh, had been the closest of friends. When I was just three years old, they bound our futures together, fixing my marriage to Rudra Raj Singh—who now wore the crown of Rajgarh. I had never seen his face in person, though my network of spies kept me well-informed of his movements. Yes, a princess is expected to embroider and sing, but I maintained my own quiet team of spies.

Tired of the artificial divide, I slid off the couch and sat directly on the cold floor with the maids.

Every attendee gasped, staring at me in shock. I rolled my eyes. I hated that look—the constant reminder that I was made of different clay in their eyes. I just wanted to feel normal for once.

"Tara, look at this blue lehenga with the peacock embroidery," Pallavi said, holding up a shimmering piece of silk.

Pallavi had once been my maid, but over time, I had practically forced her to be my friend instead. She was the only person in the entire fortress who treated me like a human being, calling me Tara instead of reciting my endless titles.

"Take it for yourself," I said, without glancing at the cloth. "It will look much better on you."

Pallavi paused, setting the silk aside. "Tara, what happened? Why are you so upset?"

I looked around at the crowd of wide eyes and hushed whispers. "Ekant," I commanded softly. "Privacy."

Understanding the shift in my voice, the attendees bowed hurriedly and emptied the chamber, leaving only Pallavi behind.

"Tell me," she urged, stepping closer.

"I am not fond of these expensive trinkets, Pallavi," I confessed, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "He has never even tried to communicate with me. I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with him, yet I know nothing of who he is, and he knows nothing of me. I sent him two letters—two humble requests to meet before the wedding. And what does he send back? More silk. More gold. No matter how hard I try to bridge the gap, it will always be a cold, lifeless political alliance."

Pallavi sighed gently. "But Tara, you are a Rajput princess. Meeting a man before marriage is considered deeply inappropriate. You cannot speak to a stranger like that."

"Yes, I cannot speak to a stranger, but I am expected to marry him!" The words spilled out, hot and sharp. "I know how these political marriages work. A king marries a princess for territory, for alliances, or out of pure political greed. A princess leaves her entire family behind to ride away with a man who doesn't love her. And what does she get in return? A husband who enters her quarters at night for his own desires and for an heir to carry on his lineage. These marriages have no love, no care—only cold obligation and selfish pride. I refuse to just be an incubator for someone's legacy."

A single, hot tear escaped my eye and tracked down my cheek.

Pallavi's face softened, and a sudden, mischievous glint flashed in her eyes. "Oh, Tara, don't cry. The King did send a letter. I was just trying to tease you! And please, I beg you, stop reading those feminist books from the foreign scholars."

My head snapped up. "A letter?"

Smiling, she pulled a sealed parchment from her sleeve and handed it to me. My heart gave an involuntary flutter as I broke the royal seal and unfurled the paper.

My greetings, Princess Nayantara,

I understand your concern and your desire to communicate prior to our wedding. However, as I had doubts regarding the propriety of such an arrangement, I discussed the matter with my council of advisors. They, too, suggested that a meeting would be highly inappropriate.

We shall speak when I arrive with the wedding procession. Do not bother sending further letters, as I will be traveling through the Southern provinces for some time and will be unable to receive them. I trust you will understand.

King Rudra Raj Singh

(Royal Stamp)

"So? What did the King say?" Pallavi asked eagerly. She had never learned to read—no matter how many times I tried to teach her, she always found an excuse to run away from the lessons.

I didn't answer. Slowly, deliberately, I folded the parchment and held its corner to the burning flame of a nearby mashaal. The edge caught instantly, curling black, and within seconds, his polite rejection dissolved into falling ash.

"So possessive!" Pallavi teased, misreading my silence. "Keeping his words a secret from me?"

"Secret?" I turned on her, my voice rising in cold fury. "He discussed my private letter with his advisors! He ordered me not to send any more letters. He rejected me like a petition from a subject!"

At times like this, I utterly detested being royal.

I was never even allowed to walk through the streets of my own city because it was 'unsafe for a sweet, helpless princess.' But royal protocol had never stopped my secret sneaking out. Dressed in simple cotton clothes, slipping past the courtyard guards, I became just another face in the crowd. It was pure freedom—roaming the bustling bazaars, buying cheap bangles, and fiercely bargaining over a few copper coins.

Princess Nayantara could buy the entire market without blinking. But Tara, the normal girl, wouldn't give a single penny above her fair price. I loved living as Tara. I loved feeling like Tara.

"Now... what will you do?" Pallavi asked softly, pulling me back from my thoughts.

"I don't know," I murmured, staring at the pile of ashes on the floor. "I truly don't know. I am expected to march blindly into a marriage with a man who dismisses me before he even knows me."

A sudden thought struck me, and I looked up. "Where is Bapusa?"

"The King and Queen departed for the Shiva Temple in the east this morning," Pallavi informed me. "They will be gone for a month or two for the grand havan."

A slow smile spread across my face. A whole month without royal eyes watching my every move. I could finally breathe. I could finally be free.

"Give me some of your clothes," I said, excitement instantly replacing the gloom in my voice.

Pallavi rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, not again..."