Page 46 of The Promised Queen
Sitara is beside me, her hands restless, twisting the golden rings on her slender fingers. I squeeze her hand, a silent anchor, though I feel like I’m the one drowning. She glances at me with wide, anxious eyes, and I offer her the smallest of smiles. Neither of us truly believes it, but it’s something to hold on to.
I don’t look at Rajmata. I can’t.
I know if I do, words will spill from me—sharp, bitter, words that will cut, and though part of me would find satisfaction inthat, another part refuses. Because this… this is not just about me. This is their mother. The woman who raised them, even if she never mothered him.Humanity,I remind myself.Hold on to it.
Raja-sa enters with the kind of stillness that carries power. His presence fills the chamber before his words do. His siblings straighten—Veeraj with his defiant tilt of chin, Vihaan with quiet tension, Sitara with her trembling hands. My pulse jumps as his gaze sweeps across the table, lingering on me for a beat too long.
It feels like he draws strength from that pause. From me.
When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, commanding, but edged with weariness.
“I am not going to waste anyone’s time here repeating why we are gathered. We all know.”
He exhales deeply, his eyes cutting to Rajmata. I hear the faintest scoff from her, like she is already unimpressed, already dismissing him.
“We have concrete proof of your actions, Rajmata,” he continues, each word precise, measured. “And as your king, I cannot let you disrespect my queen and walk free.”
That’s when she laughs. A cold, bitter scoff that ricochets against the stone walls.
“Queen?” she spits, her voice dripping venom. “You call her a queen? A mere dancer? This… nobody?”
The words slap against my skin, sting sharper because they’re not new. They are echoes of every whisper I’ve heard since stepping into this palace. I feel Sitara tense beside me, her hand clamping around mine. I clench my jaw, staring down atthe polished table rather than meeting Rajmata’s gaze. If I look, I will speak. If I speak, I will break.
“Enough!” Raja-sa’s voice cracks like thunder across the chamber. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, the ground itself seems to tremble. “You had your chance to speak. Do not test my patience.”
His glare silences her. Even Rajmata lowers her eyes, if only for a fraction of a second.
And then, his gaze shifts to me.
My chest tightens. His eyes soften as they land on me, like the weight of his anger evaporates when I am his focus. For one fragile moment, it’s just us. The room fades, the shadows of history and betrayal fade, and all I see is him.
“I would like Maharani,” he says, his voice steady, “to decide the punishment. And to announce it.”
The chamber stills. All eyes swing toward me.
My breath catches. I already told him. I told him last night, when it was just the two of us, when his head was in my lap and his voice trembled with wounds he tried to hide. Why is he asking me to repeat it now?
I glance at Sitara, whose face is pale but supportive. At Veeraj, who looks torn between loyalty and denial. At Vihaan, whose gaze flickers with quiet understanding. Finally, I look back at him.
“I would like…” My voice wavers but I steady it. “To forgive her.”
The words hang in the air. Firm. Final.
Rajmata laughs again, bitter and sharp. “You? Forgive me?” she sneers, like the very thought is absurd.
One look from him—just one—and she falls silent.
“Okay,” he says softly, turning to me again. “I respect your decision.”
Relief pricks my chest—until he continues.
“However, she has done wrong to me, too.”
I frown, startled, watching him rise slowly from his chair.
“I am the king,” he says, his voice ringing with iron. “She has not only betrayed me but attempted, out of personal hatred, to defame the crown. That cannot be forgiven. Not by me.”
Rajmata stiffens. The chamber tightens with tension.
