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The staff stepped out of the way as they passed, murmurs following in their wake.

Ram stopped outside the carved wooden doors to Suchitra Devi’s private quarters. Mira, her longtime assistant, rose immediately from the cushioned bench. Her eyes flicked over Ram’s hardened face and then dropped quickly to his hand clasping Sanjana’s.

“I will let Her Highness know you’re here,” Mira said softly, as though she already knew it wasn’t a courtesy call. She slipped inside, closing the doors behind her.

Although it was only a few moments, the wait seemed long due to the silent tension.

Soon, the doors opened, and Suchitra Devi appeared.

Her sari was draped in flawless pleats of cream silk, a string of pearls resting at her throat. She appeared calm, regal, and poised as always. Her gaze fell on her son, then on Sanjana, her hand still firmly enclosed in his.

“Amma,” Ram greeted, his voice low and steady, with an underlying edge.

“Ram,” the rajmata greeted calmly.

Sanjana felt as though she was intruding on a private matter. But Ram’s fingers closed firmly over hers, reminding her that she was his wife, an equally important participant in the upcoming confrontation.

Ram’s eyes locked on his mother as he spoke. “I know the truth about what happened eight years ago. About who gave the order that tore Sanjana and me apart.”

Elar’s heart thudded as she looked at Suchitra Devi.

“And I also know who is responsible for the attacks against my wife,” Ram continued. “Yesterday, Sanjana was kidnapped and nearly killed because one person decided she was unsuitable to be the Devara maharani.”

A heavy silence followed.

Suchitra Devi’s face continued to remain composed, unreadable, carved of marble.

Ram held his mother's gaze. “I know it was you,” he said.

There was the faintest tightening of Suchitra Devi's eyes, but she still remained composed.

“I came here to tell that if I am forced to choose between Sanjana and royal duty—between her and my titles—I will always choose her.”

Sanjana’s breath caught in her throat at his words. She turned to look at him, but his gaze remained locked on his mother.

“I would give my life for you, amma,” he said, his deep voice firm with conviction, “but my heart belongs to Sanjana. She is the woman I will love until my last breath. And I will protect her, even if it means standing against my own blood.”

For the first time, Sanjana saw Suchitra Devi’s regal mask crack. There was a flicker of something, which could have been pain or fury or something else entirely.

For a moment, Sanjana thought Ram’s mother might unleash her wrath. But instead, Suchitra Devi raised her chin regally.

When she spoke, her voice was soft but laced with authority. “Very well,” she said. “I give you my word. There will be no more objections. No unwanted actions against her. Sanjana will be accepted as the Devara maharani in every way.”

Sanjana heard the conviction in the queen’s voice that felt unshakable. Despite the past, and knowing how much Ram loved his mother, Sanjana felt the anger against Suchitra Devi disappear.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Sanjana said softly, knowing how much it cost the Queen to set aside her pride and give her word. “I know I am not the ideal choice for being the Devara maharani. But I love Ram. And I promise to always stand by his side.”

Suchitra Devi was silent as she heard Sanjana’s words spoken with equal conviction. Slowly, the queen stepped forward and took her hand.

Sanjana felt the soft warmth of the Queen’s hand pressing into hers.

“Call me, Amma,” Suchitra Devi said softly. “You are the Devara maharani and a part of our family.”

Warmth unfurled inside Sanjana’s chest.

“Amma,” Sanjana said softly.

As Sanjana said the word, she realized she wasn’t just standing beside Ram, she now truly belonged in his world.