PROLOGUE
The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and jasmine as the grand doors of the palace slammed shut behind her. Meher’s heart pounded. The golden bangles on her wrists felt like shackles, the weight of her embroidered lehenga a cage that suffocated her with every step. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She wasn’t supposed to be his.Yet, here she stood, in his palace. In his world. And at the centre of it all, beneath the flickering chandeliers and the watchful gaze of centuries-old portraits, stood Abhimaan Singh Shekhawat.
The man she had been forced to marry.
Tall. Commanding. Relentless.
His sherwani, midnight-black with intricate gold embroidery, moulded against his broad frame like a second skin. A single emerald ring gleamed on his strong fingers—the only hint of indulgence on a man who otherwise exuded nothing but controlled power.
His gaze; dark and unreadable, swept over her—slow, unhurried, assessing.And when it reached her face, his jaw tensed.Meher swallowed, resisting the urge to step back. That would be surrender. And she would never surrender.“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, the silk of her dupatta rustling as she shifted beneath his scrutiny. “We don’t have to be trapped in this.”
A slow smirk ghosted across his lips—a dangerous thing, barely there, but enough to make her pulse spike.He took a step forward. Then another.Until the space between them was almost nothing. Until she could feel the warmth of his body, the heat of something unspoken simmering in the air.
“Trapped?” His voice was smooth, edged with something almost… indulgent. “Is that what you think this is?”His fingers brushed against her waist, barely touching, but enough to make her breath catch. Enough to make awareness prickle along her spine.
“I don’t believe in love, Meher.” His words were quiet, deliberate. Dangerous. “And I certainly don’t believe in fairytales. But make no mistake…”He leaned In, just enough that she could feel the whisper of his breath against her ear, the rich scent of oud and spice that clung to his skin.
“You belong to me now.”A shiver danced down her spine.Meher had always thought of marriage as a bond of trust, of companionship. But standing before the king who ruled over an empire both seen and unseen, she realized this wasn’t a love story.
This was a war. And he was already winning.
