Page 13 of A Royal Deception

Zarna shrugged in reply.

“Anything is possible with Baisa, Di. She knows how to get her way. But seriously… think about it… what if Baisa doesn’t turn up for her wedding at all?”

“Shubh shubh bol, Zarna,” I snapped. “And stop enjoying the situation so much!”

“Why?” she demanded plaintively. “Rani Sa and her daughter are so nasty to us. Why shouldn’t I enjoy their misery?”

“Because misery doesn’t take too long to change its direction and find a new target,” I informed her. “And you don’t want to be standing too close when it does. Now, promise me you’ll stay out of trouble for the five minutes it takes me to freshen up.”

“I promise.”

I didn’t trust her and was ready in four. We arrived downstairs to find the staff walking around on eggshells. The butler gave me a list of things to do, and I dragged Zarna away before she could ask any questions.

“Di, wait up! I need to know what’s happening,” she cried.

“No, you don’t,” I said grimly. “Stick with me and keep your nose out of this. If I catch you sneaking about trying to listen at doors, I’ll send you back to our room, Zarna. I mean it.”

She was too young to know the extent of Rani Sa’s cruelty, and I didn’t want her to find out the hard way that the old royal liked to take her anger out on her staff. We had to stay out of her way until Baisa got back safely because, of course, she would! Who in their right mind would mess around with something so important? No matter what happened, Kavya Baisa would be back in the palace before the baaraat arrived at the palace doors.

But as the hours passed, the air in the palace grew tighter and heavy with fear because we could hear the sound of revelry in the distance as the baaraat approached the gates, but there was no sign of Baisa. The hair and make-up people were getting antsy, and Rani Sa had confiscated their phones to make sure they weren’t live-streaming the story of the missing bride. Rani Sa and the other women of the family were already dressed and ready.

“Throw her into the make-up chair as soon as she arrives,” ordered Rani Sa to the MUA, and I could hear the despair in her voice.

Zarna sidled up to me when she returned from one of her frequent trips to the loo, as she’d have me believe, and pinched my elbow to get my attention. I bent my head to her.

“The official story is that her car broke down on the way back home, and there was no mechanic available in the desert. The truth is that Raja Sa sent a helicopter to bring her home hours ago, but she was in no state to even walk a few steps. What was she doing, Di?” she whispered, looking pale and worried.

I had a fair idea about what she was doing, but it wasn’t something I wanted to tell my sister. She was too young to know the real truth about Kavya Baisa.

“Maybe she drank too much last night,” I said noncomittally, hoping it was just that and not an overdose like last time.

Almost a year ago, Baisa had done far too many lines of coke, and she’d had a seizure in her bathroom when I was helping to dry her hair. It was scary to watch, and I was terrified she was going to die, but she bounced back the next day and acted like it hadn’t happened. It was sheer bad luck if something like that had happened this morning.

By now, even Zarna realised the gravity of the situation and was too frightened to go eavesdropping anymore. She was silent as she helped me place the gift boxes into neat little piles in one of the anterooms.

The Mirpur party had arrived at the gates with a DJ truck leading the procession. I peeked from a window and saw His Highness and his mother sitting in a vintage gold-plated Rolls Royce at the centre of the procession while the baaraatis went wild around them.

We went out onto the balcony to cheer the baaraat.

My heart did a pole vault right into my throat at the sight of him looking so regal in his off-white sherwani and turban with the bejewelled sarpench. Uff! And he’d grown that stubble until it was almost a beard.

“Jamai Sa ghana futra lage hai,”exclaimed one of the housekeeping staff, and everyone on the balcony echoed her sentiment. I agreed, too. He looked utterly, heartbreakingly handsome.

I hoped Baisa had the sense to get here on time. I couldn’t imagine her being blind to everything that was at risk here. Not only was His Highness handsome and wealthy beyond words, but he was also one of the good ones. He deserved a wife who would cherish that.

“She doesn’t deserve him.”

For a minute, I was terrified that I had spoken aloud. I sighed in relief when I realised it was Zarna whispering in my ear. I turned around to glare at her.

“Don’t say that,” I whispered back sternly. “That’s not kind.”

“But it’s true,” she said shrewdly. “He has kind eyes.”

“When did you see his eyes?” I asked with a snort.

“Umm, hello? He’s looking at us right now,” she replied.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look at the baaraat. It had halted beneath our balcony because his baaraatis were dancing in front of the car and refused to speed up. And His Highness was looking up at the women admiring him. He was looking right at me.

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