Page 29 of Trapped By the Maharaja
She stumbled slightly due to her heavy wedding attire, but Ram’s other hand moved to her waist, steadying her. Heat curled where his palm rested on the bare skin of her waist, leaving her breathless. As soon as she was able to stand on her own, she tried to move away from him to keep some distance between them, but his hand remained on her waist in a firm, possessive grip.
She knew trying to push him away would cause a scene. So, sucking a deep breath, she allowed him to lead her towards the palace.
At the foot of the wide marble steps that lead to the entrance, a row of guards stood in formation, turbans neatly tied, swords gleaming at their sides. Their eyes held unmistakable shock at the sight of Ram in wedding attire with a bride next to him. The shock lasted only a brief moment before their expressions smoothed. With palms pressed together, they bowed in unison.
Ram inclined his head in acknowledgement, then tightened his hand around her waist, steering her steadily up the wide marble steps toward the palace entrance.
When they reached the top, he stopped outside the doorway. The massive, carved teak doors loomed above them, but Ram did not lead her inside the palace. Instead, his grip on her waist tightened as he kept her close.
Sanjana’s heart raced with nervousness, and she stood outside the threshold, looking at the high-ceilinged, spacious hall with marble pillars and tall windows.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing from inside.
Three men were approaching. They were tall and broad-shouldered, but they looked distinctly different from one another. They all carried themselves with a natural command and an air of inherited power that reminded her of Ram.
She realized with a shock that they must be Ram’s half-brothers.
They came to a stop in front of Ram and her. And all three brothers looked at Sanjana. There wasn’t any surprise in their eyes, just a hint of curiosity.
“Ma has been notified,” one of them said, looking at Ram. “Although I’m sure Ma guessed something was happening when the three of us arrived a while ago without notice or a reason.”
Sanjana realized with shock that Ram had told his brothers he was getting married to her.
Then why didn’t they attend the wedding?
Before Sanjana could process it further, there was a sudden shift in the air. A rustle of silk and soft footsteps pulled her gaze to the far end of the hall, where a group of women was walking towards her.
Sanjana recognized the petite yet regal woman at the center, who was wearing a pale, emerald-colored saree with a string of pearls around her neck. Sanjana had seen the elegant woman many times on television. It was Maharani Suchitra Devi who was a socialite, philanthropist, and royal matriarch. Ram’s mother.
Sanjana stood still while the regal figure of Suchitra Devi stopped in front of them.
The queen surveyed Ram and Sanjana, taking in the wedding attire. Her eyes, dark and calm, moved from her son to Sanjana, lingering for a long, loaded moment, especially the sacred thread tied around Sanjana’s neck.
“I got married this morning, Amma,” Ram stated, his tone firm and devoid of feeling. “This is my wife. Sanjana Shetty.”
The words hung in the air.
Sanjana’s heart pounded as she waited for a reaction.
Ram’s mother didn’t speak, and her face betrayed nothing. But Sanjana felt the disapproval. It was in the form of regal, heavy silence.
A long moment later, the queen’s voice cut through the air.
“Mira,” Suchitra Devi said to her assistant, “prepare for the traditional welcome of the newlyweds.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the assistant replied before leaving.
Within minutes, a group of palace staff, women in crisp cream saris and young male attendants in uniforms, stood ready with silver platters filled with flowers, incense, and other items used in ritual to welcome a bride home.
A young maid stepped forward, holding a silver tray. Sanjana could see the flicker of nervousness in her eyes as she reached up and pressed a small red dot of vermillion onto Sanjana’s forehead and then onto Ram’s. Another woman circled a silver tray with a lit lamp.
One of the older attendants gently placed a silver kalash filled with rice before the palace threshold.
“Please push the kalash with your right foot and enter.”
Sanjana’s hands curled tightly around the edge of her bridal saree. Her foot, bare and trembling beneath the anklet, rose slightly and kicked the silver pot just hard enough to send the rice spilling in a smooth arc across the marble.
Ram’s grip tightened on her possessively as they stepped into the palace together.
