Page 101 of Rudra Nandani: The Saga of Control And Seduction

He said he loved me, but his actions weren’t exactly what I would call love. The way he dragged me all the way from the palace’s entrance to our chamber hurt me, and that was not love. And, the way he accused me of how many men call me their wife was the final blow.

I lost it right there.

Never in my life have I trusted any man or allowed any man to even lay his eyes on me, let alone touch me, not even a friend, except for my family.

I accept that what I did before our marriage was an impulsive decision. It wasn’t something an ideal princess was supposed to do, but that did not mean I wasn't loyal, and that definitely did not mean he could question my character.

While having dinner, I kept pondering his behavior. One part of me was adamant about not talking to him, but the other part was desperate to see if he was okay.

However, the sensible part of me won. As a queen, I had matters to discuss with him that required our immediate attention.

By the time I finished eating and washed my hands, the night had grown darker, and it was time to sleep. So, I went to the courtyard to check for him, but strangely, he wasn't there.

Furrowing my brows, I bit my lower lip, wondering where he could be. Suddenly, the thought of him being in the library crossed my mind.

Turning on my heels, I picked up a hand lantern and sauntered towards the library. The bells of my anklets resonated through the path, as everyone had already gone to bed.

I stopped in front of the library door, and after inhaling deeply, I pushed it open. The creaking noise of the heavy doors echoed through the empty hallways, causing my heart to race slightly.

Clenching the fabric of my gown, I stepped inside, where the warm caress of inviting candlelight and the lingering fragrance of oud and sandalwood greeted me. As I walked further in, I saw him sitting in the chair. The dim, golden light flickered across his face as he leaned over the table, reading some papers.

Slowly placing the lantern on the table nearby, I cleared my throat to make my presence known, although my anklets must’ve already done so. I patiently waited for his reaction for a few moments, but it was like he didn’t hear me, or perhaps he heard me, but turned a deaf ear.

A sudden wave of cold anxiety washed over me. My fingers twitched as I realised he was still mad at me.

Standing just a few feet away, I swallowed nervously and called him softly,“Suniye,”(Listen.)

“Ji, Ranisa, kahiye, kaisa seva karein hum aapki?”(Yes, your majesty, how may I help you?) The outright formality in his tone made me flinch. I hesitated for a brief moment to utter anything.

Biting on my lower lip, I said,“I came to speak of the drafts I prepared for the renovations needed in the servants’quarters.” My eyes landed on the very papers on the edge of my side of the table.

“Yes, Ranisa, don't worry. I have already approved of them,” He briefed me in, his voice steady and polite, but distant.

Stepping further in, I added,“And there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“You have my undivided attention,” his words, yet his eyes were unwavering on the papers. I couldn't read his expressions or tell what he was feeling. I didn’t know if he was angry or uninterested, or indeed busy. And that made my blood run cold. Taking a deep breath, I reported the village visit to him.

“While on my tour to the village, I encountered many people who needed our immediate attention. There are complaints of dacoits raiding the village often. And the storm that hit the land a few months ago left nothing for the people, even in the name of hope. It caused an immense decline in the economy and has adversely affected the people,” The room hung in heavy silence, and the sound of him flipping the pages made me acutely aware.

“Rest assured, your majesty, we will soon start working on reconstructing the outskirts of the palace. I have already appointed a unit of soldiers in the village to keep an eye on the dacoits, and the moment we are done with the overview of the resources, we will distribute the required commodities to the villagers,” he spoke with impeccable courtesy. His answer was concise, convincing, yet very formal and serious.

“Alright, thank you!” I said, shaking my head.

“Good Night, Ranisa,” I gulped at his reply. He spoke as if we were not husband and wife. Ironically, it had been less than a day, and my heart already longed for the side of him that gave me weird nicknames and made sarcastic remarks.

To keep the continuity of the conversation, I asked,“You’re not coming to bed?” Placing the previous papers on the table, he tookanother document in his hands and began going through it, not sparing a look at me.

“Pardon me, Ranisa, but I have work to do. I suggest you take a rest; you might be exhausted after the visit.” It stung me. The detachment in his tone, his neglect of my presence, and his cold behavior hurt me deeply. I kept fidgeting with the strings of my overcoat to cope with the anxiety that grew inside me in response to his silence.

A part of me argued for leaving the room, recalling how he had treated me earlier. The other part was consumed by the regret of slapping him.

I didn't know what to say, so I asked him directly.“Aap kab tak humse yun rusht rahenge?”(How long are you going to be upset with me?)

Finally, he tilted his head up and glanced at me. His lips curved into something I wouldn't call a smile, and his expression was unreadable.

“Bhala hum kaun hote hain aapse rusht hone wale? Humein kya adhikaar ki hum aapse rusht ho jaayein, Ranisa?”(Who am I to be upset with you? What right would I have to get angry with you, Ranisa?) He replied, and tears brimmed in my eyes.

“Aap aisa kyun rahe hain?”(Why are you saying so?) He smiled a little and lowered his gaze back to the papers.

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