Chapter 1
“The Koh-i-Noor diamond,” the queen murmured, her voice as soft as the twilight breeze, “is said in Hindu scripture to bring its possessor the power to rule the world—but at the cost of great misfortune.” Her slender fingers gently traced the intricate details of the pale blue pendant resting against her chest, its brilliance enhanced by the golden light of the chandeliers.
The night had cloaked the palace in a calm serenity. After dinner, as was her custom, the queen sat with her young son to tell him a story. It was their nightly ritual—a moment of warmth and learning, shared before his lashes grew too heavy to stay open. Nearby, the maids lingered discreetly, enthralled by the queen’s voice and the intimacy of the scene.
“In history,” the queen continued, her voice tender yet solemn, “every man who owned the Koh-i-Noor met a tragic fate. That is why this pendant is kept solely for the women of the family. It is said to temper the diamond’s curse.”
Her words were interrupted by the arrival of the king. “Why are you telling him such things?” he asked, his tone affectionate but tinged with mild reproach. “He’s just a child.”
The maids bowed and stepped aside, making way for him. The queen glanced up at her husband, her emerald eyes softening. Despite the years they had shared, she never failed to notice the admiration in his gaze—the way he looked at her as though she were the only woman in the world. The queen, always devoted to her people, had little care for her appearance. Her sun-kissed skin bore the traces of her work alongside the common folk, yet her luminous green eyes and naturally rosy lips made her radiantly beautiful. To the king, she was utterly mesmerizing.
“You’ve not changed yet?” she teased lightly, her brows arching as she noted his informal attire.
The king smiled, his focus unwavering. Meanwhile, the young prince hurried to hide the book he had been reading, tucking it beneath his pillow. He adored stories like these—rich in history and intrigue. While most dismissed him as too young for such tales, his mother indulged his curiosity, favoring lessons in history over the frivolity of fairy tales.
“I don’t want to leave you tonight,” the king said softly, his voice brimming with sincerity.
The queen’s cheeks flushed, a rare sight that never failed to delight her husband. Though her strength and poise commanded respect, moments like these revealed the tender woman behind the crown. The servants exchanged amused glances but quickly bowed their heads, keeping their expressions neutral as they watched this intimate exchange.
The queen turned to him with a mock sternness in her gaze, though her lips curved into a reluctant smile. The king, ever mischievous, returned her look with one of playful innocence.
“Tonight, your father will tell you a story,” the king announced suddenly, sitting down beside the prince.
The boy’s face lit up with excitement as his father began, “Once upon a time, in your grandfather’s kingdom, there was a princess more feared than admired. Suitors trembled at her name, not because of her beauty, but her unyielding spirit.”
The queen raised a brow at his dramatic opening, gesturing subtly for the maids to leave. They smiled knowingly as they curtsied and exited the room, leaving the royal family in their own little world.
The king leaned back, his arm draped protectively around the prince. The queen watched them, her heart swelling with quiet joy. The sound of her husband’s deep voice and her son’s delighted laughter filled the room, mingling with the warm glow of candlelight—a moment of peace, love, and unspoken promises.
One fateful day, the princess, cloaked in a guise of men’s attire, slipped unnoticed into a bustling wrestling arena. There, amidst the roars of the crowd and the clash of competitors, her gaze fell upon a striking wrestler. His strength and grace captivated her in a way she had never known. When she returned to the palace, her heart was resolute. “I will marry only that wrestler,” she declared, her voice steady with conviction.
Little did she realize, the man who had so bewitched her was none other than the prince of Shivsthan—the very suitor whose proposals she had rejected time and again with disdain.
“And then, you two got married!” the young prince exclaimed, his laughter ringing like a bell as he clapped his hands and bounced on the bed.
“The princess had no idea,” the queen chimed in, lifting her son into her arms with a playful smile, “that the prince she chose was famously lazy.”
The king rose from his seat, crossing the room to gently take both of the queen’s hands in his. “Truly, I can’t bear the thought of leaving you tonight,” he said, his voice low and filled with longing.
The queen, ever poised, felt her cheeks warm under his affectionate gaze. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving in a soft smile. “The people need you,” she replied, her tone carrying a quiet pride, tempered with understanding.
“And I need you,” the king countered, his words a tender defiance, a refusal to let reason win over his heart.
The queen’s eyes softened as she placed her hand lightly on his chest. “Very well,” she relented with a touch of playfulness, “but when you return, the three of us will escape to our vacation house in London.”
The king’s reluctance to leave melted into a gentle smile. Though his duty called, her words carried him forward with hope.
He leaned down to place a lingering kiss on the prince’s forehead. “Be good, my boy,” he whispered, before turning to leave.
The queen walked with him to the door, their steps unhurried, as though savoring the last moments before his departure. When they reached the palace gates, she stood watching as he set in the car. The night embraced him as he rode away, the moonlight tracing the contours of his figure like a silver halo.
Inside, the prince dashed to his balcony, his small hands gripping the ornate railing as he leaned forward, eager to catch a glimpse of his father going into the distance. From his vantage point, he could see the grand gate of the palace, where the king disappeared into the velvet darkness of the night.
The queen returned to her chambers, her maids trailing behind her like a constellation of stars orbiting their moon. She moved with a quiet grace, her thoughts lingering on her husband’s parting words.
The prince, still awake, sat cross-legged on his bed, his eyes wide with anticipation. The full moon dominated the sky, its glow soft yet radiant, but tonight, something about it seemed different. A faint red hue painted its surface, a mysterious and enchanting detail that held the boy’s gaze.
Drawn by curiosity and a sense of wonder, the young prince stepped onto the balcony for a closer look at the peculiar crimson glow of the moon. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the darkness for a brief, blinding moment. In that instant, the prince’s wide eyes caught a shadowy figure lurking in the distance. A chill ran down his spine, and he stumbled back in fright, his heart hammering in his chest.
Before he could collect himself, the stillness of the night was shattered by a piercing scream that seemed to rise from the very depths of the palace. The sound sliced through the air like a dagger, its raw terror freezing the prince in place for a heartbeat.
Then, adrenaline surged through him, propelling him into a frantic dash toward his mother’s chambers. His small feet barely touched the floor as he raced through the long, shadowed corridors, the echo of his beating heart loud in his ears.
Just as he reached the grand hall leading to her room, a panicked cry broke out, carrying words that turned his blood cold:
“The queen has been murdered!”
