Page 51 of A Royal Deception

“Umm, rude!” replied Diya with a scowl.

“No! Now I’m worried you’ll drop Shivina into the moat instead of helping her,” I snapped.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a moat,” said Shivina drily from behind me.

Isha and Diya smiled in delight as my wife took her place at our table. Right across from me.

“I never said that. I only said we don’t have a gharial in the moat because it’s dry.”

“Right, that’s when you threatened me with the hyenas,” she replied, with that wicked, crooked smile that begged me to retaliate in kind.

“I didn’t threaten you,” I argued.

“You did. I heard you,” inserted Isha helpfully.

“Don’t you have something useful to do?” I bit out, and she shook her head gleefully.

“Nope.”

“And why would I need Rani Sa’s help anyway?” asked Shivina, coming straight to the point.

“Well, Diya has a wonderful new fashion house, and I thought she could help you pick out some new clothes.”

Shivina gave me a cold and steady look.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Well…”

Before I could reply, she turned to the others.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asked them just as coldly.

“Nothing. Not a damn thing,” replied Isha, shovelling a huge chunk of mayo and chilli oil-coated watermelon into her mouth to avoid saying anything else.

Diya was braver than she was.

“Except that you’re having to wear Nandini Aunty’s hand-me-downs because you don’t have bridal clothes of your own,” she said gently.

Isha slammed her hand on the table, and we turned to her in surprise. She was struggling to eat the watermelon, and she waved a hand around wildly, clearly asking for something. Shivina rolled her eyes and handed her a paper napkin. With a sigh of relief, Isha spat out the fruit and turned to glare at Diya.

“I swear to God, woman. You have it in for me today. That’s the second time you’ve tried to kill me,” she accused.

“Who asked you to eat my fruit?” demanded Diya.

A peal of laughter took us by surprise, and we turned to see Shivina laughing at the two friends bickering like kindergarteners.

“As I was saying before our resident drama queen interrupted me so rudely,” said Diya, with a glare at her bestie. “You’re going to need a lot of bridal clothes for your first year of marriage, Shivina. We’re Rajputana royalty. There’s a festival or celebration happening practically every month, and all eyes are going to be on the new Maharani. You have to dress for the occasion, or you’ll be trolled mercilessly, first by the nasty aunties in our circle and then by the vellas on social media who think they are experts on royal couture.”

Shivina sighed deeply.

“The thing is that royal couture comes with a royal price tag, Rani Sa. And I think it’s best to be upfront right now. I cannot afford such clothes. Kavya Baisa’a mother might have packed seven trunks full of appropriate clothes for her, but I have no mother, and I had no time to build a trousseau even within my budget. So I’m afraid the aunties and the trolls will have to deal with their disappointment because I don’t think I can meet the lofty standards required of a Maharani,” she said bluntly.

I cleared my throat meaningfully.

“You seem to forget something very important, Shivina. You have one thing none of those aunties, trolls or Dodiyas have,” I said.

“And what’s that?”

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