Prologue ~The Warlord’s Bride
Prologue
The Warlord’s Bride
As Maya sat in the palanquin headed towards the mahal of her husband, only Deviya’s words echoed in her ears.
“He is a warlord, feared and cold, and unfortunate, I must say... Fought on the battlefield for five years, only to end up with a bride like you. I hear he slaughters men without a second thought. Best of luck in that hell.”
The words had been spoken with a cruel smile.
Maya had tried not to listen.
But how could she?
Every word had settled inside her heart like a stone.
The palanquin moved slowly along the decorated roads, carried by men whose footsteps sounded distant beneath the heavy curtains. Outside, she could hear the faint voices of people, the movement of horses, and the occasional sound of drums celebrating the union.
Her union.
Her marriage.
Maya lowered her eyes.
Surely, it was a complicated situation.
Maybe he will let me live if I work hard and behave, she said to herself.
Perhaps that was all she needed to do.
Be obedient.
Be quiet.
Never anger him.
Never ask for anything.
Never become a burden.
She had spent her entire life learning how to become invisible.
Perhaps she would have to do the same here.
Consumed by grief and fear, she wondered what he must have done wrong to end up married to the abandoned princess whose face even the Emperor might not have known.
What kind of punishment was this?
The great warlord of the empire had fought for five years.
Five years upon the battlefield.
Five years of blood and death.
Five years of protecting the kingdom while others remained safely behind palace walls.
And after all those years, his reward was a woman like Maya.
An unwanted princess.
A forgotten daughter.
A girl whom even her own father had never truly looked at.
Maya pressed her trembling fingers together.
Perhaps Pavan would hate her.
Perhaps he would look at her and see only another reminder of everything unfortunate that had happened to him.
Perhaps he would blame her for being his bride.
Her breathing became difficult.
The walls of the palanquin suddenly felt smaller.
It felt as though she was heading towards death itself.
She closed her eyes.
“I am a failure...”
Her lips trembled.
“I must not live...”
The thought frightened her.
But another thought frightened her even more.
“But I fear death...”
She tried to control herself.
She truly did.
But tears rolled down her cheeks despite her efforts.
Maya quickly wiped them away.
A heavy veil covered her head, as was customary, hiding most of her face from the world. She was grateful for it.
At least no one could see her crying.
No one could see how frightened she was.
No one could see how badly her hands trembled.
She looked down at her mehndi-covered hands.
The intricate patterns upon her palms were beautiful.
They were supposed to symbolize happiness.
A bride’s happiness.
A new beginning.
But Maya could feel no happiness.
Only fear.
She wondered what her life would be like inside Pavan’s mahal.
Would there be kindness?
Would there be servants who treated her gently?
Would Pavan even speak to her?
Or would he be exactly as Deviya had described him?
Cold.
Merciless.
A man who could take a life without a second thought.
Maya swallowed.
She had never been given a choice in anything.
Not where she lived.
Not how she was treated.
Not what she was allowed to dream of.
And certainly not whom she would marry.
Yet somehow, this marriage frightened her more than anything that had come before.
Because for the first time, she was leaving the only miserable home she had ever known.
She was going somewhere completely unknown.
To a man she had never met.
Her husband.
Maya’s heart beat faster at the thought.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts, when suddenly the palanquin slowed.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her lehenga.
The voices outside grew louder.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
The maid called her suddenly.
“We have arrived, Rajkumari.”
Maya’s heart seemed to stop.
Arrived.
Those words echoed inside her mind.
She had reached her husband’s mahal.
There was no turning back now.
The maid gently helped her step out of the palanquin.
Maya lowered her head, keeping her veil over her face.
She barely had time to take a breath.
Suddenly—
She was lifted.
A startled gasp escaped her lips.
Strong arms wrapped around her, one beneath her knees and the other supporting her back.
She was held securely against a broad chest.
Maya froze.
She could feel the firmness of his muscles through her heavy lehenga.
Her heart began pounding violently.
She had not expected this.
She had expected to walk.
She had expected the rituals.
She had expected the servants to guide her into the mahal.
But instead, a large figure had simply lifted her into his arms.
Maya’s fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his clothes.
“Wha... what is happening?”
Her voice trembled.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then she heard his voice.
Deep.
Masculine.
Cold.
Yet strangely sweet to her frightened ears.
“Kya ab apni dulhan ko nahi utha sakta?”
Now I can’t even carry my bride?
Maya went completely still.
Her breath caught.
She slowly raised her eyes beneath the veil.
She could barely see his face.
But she knew.
She knew who he was.
Pavan.
Her husband.
The warlord.
The man she had spent the entire journey fearing.
The man Deviya had described as merciless.
The man who had fought for five years and returned victorious.
And now...
He was carrying her in his arms.
Maya did not say a word.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to say.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Her mind was filled with questions.
What should I do?
Should she ask him to put her down?
Should she remain silent?
Should she apologize?
She had spent her entire life apologizing for things that were never her fault.
Perhaps she should apologize now too.
But the words refused to leave her lips.
Pavan began walking.
He carried her past the entrance of his mahal as though carrying his bride in his arms was the most natural thing in the world.
Maya remained silent.
The sound of his footsteps echoed around her.
It was not everyday a husband carries his new bride like that
''mein kya karun'' she thoughy
what have i done wrong
why is my husband, who's face I don't know carrying me in his arms...
