Page 11 of A Royal Deception

She studied me thoughtfully for a minute before she spoke.

“Who broke your heart, Di?”

I forced a laugh, and maybe it was my imagination, but it sounded demented enough to scare away the palace bhoot.

“I’m still heart-whole, thank you very much. And I intend to be so for the rest of my life. Love is for schmucks,” I said lightly.

I wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t said a thousand times before, but as I got into bed and turned off the light, I was aware that I wasn’t being entirely honest. Love might be for schmucks, but I wasn’t as heart-whole as I used to be.

The next three days flew past in a blur. The staff worked overtime to get the palace ready for the wedding, and there were rituals being held every day.

“What kind of wedding is this, Di?” asked Zarna, coming up to me when I was busy making up gift boxes containing a silver diya, bags of dried fruits and nuts, and a box of mithai for the third-tier guests. The first and second-tier guests were getting very fancy, professionally packed return gifts according to their importance, while the plebs were stuck with the simple boxes that we packed. I tried to tie a fancy bow on every box, but it didn’t change the fact that class distinction was on full display during the Rathore-Dodiya wedding.

“What’s wrong?” I asked my sister, slapping her hand away when she reached for some dried fruit. “That’s for the guests.

“Ugh! They won’t even know,” she complained, but I shook my head sternly. “Fine! As I was saying, this is such a boring wedding. Did you know there’s no sangeet? Who doesn’t have a sangeet these days? Even Gullu Pehelwan, who lives in that tiny house near the Chowk, had a sangeet at his wedding. Andeveryone knows he’s skint because all his money goes towards his Olympic training.”

“That’s their choice, Zarna. It has nothing to do with us,” I said firmly.

I didn’t want to think about this blasted wedding or the blasted bridegroom who had taken up permanent residence inside my brain and was refusing to vacate the space. Maybe it was time to take Sannata Mausi’s advice and leave the palace. How long was I going to pine after a man who wasn’t even mine?

Zarna looked around quickly and leaned forward.

“Apparently, Baisa was really upset when she found out. I heard her raging at her mother, saying her dulha was too boring.”

“What rubbish! He’s not boring at all,” I replied without thinking.

Which was a mistake because Zarna didn’t miss a trick.

“How do you know?” she asked suspiciously.

“I mean… not wanting a sangeet doesn’t make a person boring. It means they just don’t want to dance in front of people. Not everyone is dying to perform before a captive audience,” I said hastily.

“Hmm… Di, did you get a chance to see the dulha? Up close, I mean.”

I shrugged carelessly as I tied another bow and leaned back to admire it.

“Not really. He seemed okay enough from far. But what do I know?”

Zarna didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t probe any further.

“Achha, there’s some more tea,” she confided.

“Where are you getting all this ‘tea’, Zarna?” I demanded. “Have you been listening behind doors again?”

“You make it sound so sordid,” she whined. “I’m just collecting information. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You’ll change your mind when Rani Sa catches you in the act and slaps you soundly. She really puts her shoulder into it,” I said drily.

“Has she hit you?” asked Zarna irately. “I’ll fix that evil witch for you, Di! See if I don’t put hair remover in her shampoo tonight. She’ll have to wear a wig for the wedding. And as for Baisa, I’ll mix mirchi powder into her coffee. See if I don’t!”

I patted her back to calm her down.

“Hush! Don’t even say that in jest. They’ll kick us out if they hear you. Now, what’s this new tea you were dying to spill?”

Zarn exhaled sharply and snatched up a handful of cashews before I could stop her.

“Think of this as compensation for every slap,” she said, stuffing them into her mouth defiantly.

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