Prologue
The Prince Who Was Meant for Her Sister
Long before Prince Rudrapratap became Malini’s husband, she had watched him place a garland around her sister’s neck.
She had been seventeen then.
Young enough to believe that promises made before sacred fire could never be broken.
Young enough to believe fate knew what it was doing.
And foolish enough to remember the way the prince had smiled.
Not at her.
Never at her.
At Devyani.
The palace of Ratnabhumi had never looked more beautiful.
Thousands of tiny lamps illuminated its sandstone walls, their flames flickering beneath balconies draped in jasmine. Servants hurried through the courtyards carrying baskets overflowing with flowers, while musicians rehearsed beneath the eastern pavilion.
Everywhere Malini looked, there were jewels.
Rubies from the mines of Manikya Giri.
Emeralds from Vaidurya Kunda.
Sapphires pulled from the earth in the western valleys.
Ratnabhumi had grown wealthy from the treasures hidden beneath its mountains, and tonight its king seemed determined to remind every visiting noble of that fact.
But none of the jewels attracted as much attention as Princess Devyani.
“You are staring again.”
Malini blinked.
Devyani stood before a polished bronze mirror while three attendants arranged strands of pearls through her dark hair.
“I am admiring,” Malini corrected.
“You have been admiring for half an hour.”
“Because there is an unreasonable amount to admire.”
Devyani laughed.
That laugh.
Malini would remember it for the rest of her life.
She crossed the chamber and adjusted one of the delicate chains resting against her sister’s hair.
“You look beautiful.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“They are telling the truth.”
Devyani caught Malini’s hand.
Despite the celebrations happening beyond the chamber, something uncertain entered her expression.
“Do you think he will like me?”
Malini stared at her.
“Prince Rudrapratap?”
“No, Malini. The stable master’s eighty-year-old uncle.”
Malini grinned.
Devyani pinched her arm.
“Ow!”
“Answer me.”
“Of course he will like you.”
“You cannot know that.”
“Everyone likes you.”
“That is hardly reassuring.”
Malini squeezed her sister’s fingers.
The marriage had been arranged almost a year earlier.
Ratnabhumi possessed jewels coveted across the continent.
Chandragiri controlled fertile lands that produced pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, turmeric and countless other spices carried by merchants to distant kingdoms.
Gems and spices.
Mountains and fertile valleys.
Two wealthy kingdoms whose friendship could alter the balance of power throughout the region.
Their fathers saw prosperity.
Their ministers saw security.
Their merchants saw fortunes.
Malini saw her sister leaving home.
“Perhaps you will fall madly in love with him,” Malini said.
Devyani raised an eyebrow.
“Perhaps he snores.”
“Then Ratnabhumi will declare war.”
That earned another laugh.
A servant entered and bowed deeply.
“Your Highnesses, the Chandragiri procession has crossed the eastern gates.”
Malini immediately ran toward the balcony.
“Malini!”
She ignored her sister.
Outside, the city had erupted.
Flower petals rained from balconies as Chandragiri’s royal procession moved along the avenue toward the palace.
War elephants decorated with embroidered cloth walked ahead of cavalrymen carrying dark banners bearing Chandragiri’s royal emblem.
Behind them came carts laden with gifts.
Malini could see baskets and carved wooden chests overflowing with the wealth of Chandragiri’s fertile lands.
Spices.
Even from the balcony she imagined she could smell them.
Pepper.
Cloves.
Cinnamon.
Cardamom.
And then she saw him.
Prince Rudrapratap rode near the center of the procession on a magnificent black stallion.
Malini had heard stories about him.
Everyone had.
The warrior prince of Chandragiri.
The king’s eldest son.
A man who had supposedly commanded soldiers before most princes were permitted to attend council meetings.
She had expected someone frightening.
Instead, her first thought was—
He looks terribly serious.
Dark hair framed a strong face bronzed by years beneath the sun. He wore no unnecessary crown, only a simple jeweled band marking his rank. A sword rested at his side.
People shouted his name.
Rudrapratap acknowledged them with a slight inclination of his head.
Never a smile.
Malini leaned farther over the railing.
“Careful.”
Devyani appeared beside her.
Malini immediately looked between her sister and the approaching prince.
“He is handsome.”
“Malini!”
“What? You asked whether he would like you. You never asked whether you would like him.”
A blush spread across Devyani’s cheeks.
Malini gasped dramatically.
“You’re blushing!”
“I am going to have you removed from my chambers.”
“You cannot. I am a princess.”
“I am the elder princess.”
“By three years.”
“Still elder.”
Below them, Rudrapratap suddenly looked upward.
Malini froze.
For one strange heartbeat, his eyes seemed to meet hers.
Then Devyani stepped beside her.
Something changed in Rudrapratap’s expression.
The sternness disappeared.
He smiled.
A small smile.
Almost reluctant.
But unmistakably meant for Devyani.
Malini turned toward her sister.
Devyani was smiling too.
And Malini felt ridiculously pleased.
“There,” she whispered. “I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“He likes you.”
“You determined that from one smile?”
“I am exceptionally wise.”
“You are exceptionally troublesome.”
Malini rested her head against Devyani’s shoulder.
Below them, the prince who would someday change both their lives rode through the gates of Ratnabhumi.
Neither sister knew it yet.
Neither could have imagined what fate intended.
For Rudrapratap had come to Ratnabhumi to marry Princess Devyani.
Everyone knew it.
The kingdoms knew it.
Their families knew it.
The gods themselves seemed to know it.
And Malini?
Malini wanted nothing more than to see her sister happy.
She did not want Devyani’s jewels.
She did not want Devyani’s position.
And she certainly did not want Devyani’s prince.
Years later, Malini would remember that evening and wonder how destiny could be so cruel.
Because there would come another night when she would stand dressed as a bride.
Devyani would not be beside her.
The palace would once again overflow with flowers.
The sacred fire would once again burn.
And Prince Rudrapratap would stand waiting for a daughter of Ratnabhumi.
Only this time, the princess walking toward him would be Malini.
And unlike the smile he had given Devyani that first evening—
Rudrapratap would not smile at his bride at all.
