Page 1 of The Desert Prince's Jewel
CHAPTER ONE
RANBIR
Three Months Ago
“Cease your insolence, Crown Prince Ranbir, and honor your lineage before Hisss Highnesss,” Avani, my elderly wet nurse and second mother, demands, but I rip my hand away from her and continue my pursuit of the King.
My whole body tenses from the rattle attached to my tail to the tips of my fingers, all four of my hands flexing with rage. The scales on my emerald and mocha brown tail glisten in the waning sunlight as I emerge from the hall’s shadows. I turn slightly as someone with a death wish snickers beside me. In a servant’s silver platter, I catch a glimpse of my eyes, my pupils narrowed into slits.
I take a languid breath in an attempt to still my racing mind and mounting fury. I fail miserably, hissing so loudly that everyone around me flinches back. I snatch a glass of somealcoholic drink I can’t name from the servant’s platter before he can slither away.
After downing my drink, I realize it’s some sort of wine. My upper lip curls in disgust, not because of the alcohol but because it’s on the tray. Apparently, a dignitary has blown through like the ever-present sandstorms, offering my father’s favorite gift. My father, the King, loves getting drunk on expensive elixirs more than he cares about forming proper alliances, and foreign royals take full advantage of his vices. If only he loved to strategize as much as he adores schmoozing, a word I picked up during my college years at a royal academy in upper Manhattan.
My freshly dilated eyes sweep the room, assessing allies, friends, and foes. Included in my foes’ ranks are my numerous conniving cousins and their backstabbing guards. There is no reason to separate my family into their own category, for they fall into one of those three camps, whether they are immediate or distant relatives. And they are all assembled here in and around the throne room on this tragic day, most likely scheming, trying to position their offspring closer to the throne.
The scene before me is typical for the Thar Desert Court of India, one of many magical courts united under the Empire of Sand that stretches across the globe. The scenery surrounding me is posh and lush, with the scent of spiced vegetables mixing with the wine, creating an intoxicating aroma in the air. The dense oasis beyond the arched, ornate windows is decorated with wealthy lords and ladies bejeweled and decked out in finery, lounging with disinterested stares upon treetop canopies fanned by their servants. However, behind their slit pupils, they plot with malicious intent.
All of this is routine. However, the words that come from my father’s lips, King Raj, are absolutely foreign and infuriating as I finally arrive at the inner court. And despite Avani’s stern whispered warning to be silent and respectful, anger coils insideme like a viper ready to strike. Like the coiled viper stitched into our kingdom’s emblem on a billowing flag behind the golden throne. The emerald greens, burnt oranges, crisp whites, and smooth browns of the empire’s crest blur with my vision as my blood pressure spikes.
My blood boils to the point my skin flushes, and I can barely suppress another hiss as the edict is read out. Beside me are my younger brothers, Parth and Harsh, and beside them, coiled on a padded pillow dripping in jewelry, is my spiteful stepmother, Pardeep. She nibbles on her elongated thumbnail, and a pinprick of blood dribbles down her quivering lip, filled to the bursting with filler, matching her red-ruby lipstick. Only the gentle suckling and hissing of my baby sister, the sole princess Aarti, cools my inflamed soul.
“…in the absence of the Viper’s Stone to select the next heir by the goddess’s will, a tournament will be held on the fifth full moon of the monsoon season next year…”
I swallow simmering pain down before I can expel my hurt from my shuddering lungs. Of course, Father won’t mention Mother’s stolen painting, which is also missing from the Thar Museum. I can’t begrudge him for not acknowledging it in the face of the stolen stone. But it hurts nonetheless that she’s deemed that unimportant when he married intoherruling clan, not the other way around.
I tune out the rest of his speech, not missing how my brothers, twins, cling to each other and tremble in fear. Their fear seeps into the air, and their averted gazes chill my heated skin. My anger cools just as quickly as it came, as the reality of my situation comes into focus. And the prognosis is anything but good.
Our court’s heirloom, our dynasty’s treasured jewel, and a symbol of our power: the Viper’s Stone. It is a multi-colored gemstone of historical importance, a mineral tapestry of rubies,pearls, emeralds, diamonds, red coral, cat’s eye, hessonite, blue and yellow sapphires, and countless other precious jewels.
And now it’s in the hands of illicit dealers, lost to us, and with it, the favor of our goddess. My mother used to say they resembled the grains of sand in the capital city of Nagat, an unfathomable sum when describing all the tiny jewels fused into the stone—a stone I’d only seen once when I was anointed as the crown prince fifteen years ago. RajtaraNow, at thirty, my responsibilities feel heavier than ever.
It wouldn’t be the first time something invaluable was stolen from us, but I vow it will be the last. My jaw clenches, shooting a venomous glance at Pardeep, who quickly looks away.
Wicked wench,I think, amazed that she would stoop so low for the throne. But my instincts prove wrong when I catch the flash of fear in her emerald eyes as she redirects her gaze to her blood-related hatchlings.
When my father took her into the inner nest, Pardeep was young enough to be my older sister. I shake my head, filled with regret that I entertained such foolishness. No, she is far too naive to plan something like this. She’s a ditz and a brat, but Pardeep’s not a terrible mother. Especially not to her twin tickets to a better life. Birthing sons elevated her from the sand pits to the polished marble floors of the inner nest.
She would not sentence her inexperienced sons to death over something as trivial as a crown she could not hold onto. We are but the inner clutch of children, and my father has dozens of mistresses and fifteen living brothers and sisters. Beheading them all and killing their offspring would set off a civil war—somethingIwill be forced to do if this ridiculous tournament for the crown is held.
So who? Who holds a grudge against our kind, against our dynasty, crafty enough to steal the jewel?
No answers are readily apparent to me. But whoever it is, they will pay in blood. Of this much, I am certain.
My silent oath seeps into my flesh and reignites my soul, as well as my resolve. Suppressing the lasting tendrils of my rage, I shout in as commanding a voice as I can muster, “Father, I beseech you to allow me to search for the jewel!”
CHAPTER TWO
RANBIR
Present Day
Renversé Hotel?
I repeatedly mull the name over in my mind’s eye as I slither out of my luxury rental car with my guards. The street is too cramped to stretch out my tail for long, so I’m forced to assume my human facade sooner than I’d hoped. I flex my human toes in my pleather shoes; my lower body aches. I curse my terrible luck with a groan and a crack of my stiff neck.
“This is it, huh?” Rohan, the oldest of our trio, quips, rubbing his bearded chin.
I nod instead of responding, because what else needs to be said?
