Page 69 of The Promised Queen
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles are white. The gold bangles on her wrists glint under the weak yellow light, but her eyes… they don’t shine the way they used to. They’re swollen, tired. Haunted.
And I can’t find the words.
My throat feels tight, like it’s strangled with all the things I should’ve said earlier. All the things I wanted to scream when I found that letter on her bed, the one soaked in her pain.
I take a breath. Then another. And then I move. Slowly. Like if I make one wrong step, she’ll vanish again.
When I finally kneel down in front of her, her eyes widen. A flash of something—shock, maybe? Relief? I don’t know. But I do know this: I can’t hold this inside any longer.
“I’m sorry,” I begin, my voice lower than a whisper. My hands are resting on my thighs because if I touch her too soon, I might break. “I’m sorry my mother made you feel that way.”
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. So I keep going, my voice trembling now because I hate this—the distance between us, even when I’m right here.
“I felt something was off that night,” I admit, the truth clawing its way out of me. “I felt it. But I didn’t ask. I thought you were nervous about seeing your father. I thought you needed space, Meher. I thought giving you that would make things easier for you.”
A bitter laugh escapes me, sharp and humorless. “And look where that’s gotten me. To this… to chasing you across cities like a madman because I couldn’t bear another day without you.” I inhale deeply. “I am nothing without you, Meher.”
She shakes her head slowly, and when she finally speaks, her voice is so soft I almost miss it. “You are the king. And you will always—”
“No.” The word slices through the air before she can finish. My pulse kicks hard against my ribs, and I can’t stop now. “No, Meher. Don’t say that. Don’t put me on a pedestal I never asked for.”
I lean forward, my gaze locking on hers, refusing to let her look away. “I’ve been the king since I was twenty years old.Twenty. And in all those years, I thought I knew what power was. What leadership meant. What duty demanded.” My throat tightens as I take her hand—small, cold, trembling—and wrap it in mine. “But it’s you. In these six months, it’s you who taught me what a king actually is. You showed me that power means nothing if you don’t have someone to come home to.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes glisten, but I’m not done. I can’t be.
“So no,” I whisper, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I’m nothing without you. Nothing. I need you, Meher. Not as the queen. Not for the palace. Not for the name. I need you as my wife. As my heartbeat.”
The words tear out of me before I can stop them. “I love you. I may not speak much, I may not know the right words half the time, but I do love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I even understood, Meher. Every day, every second, even when I was pretending to hold myself back.”
Her tears spill over now, sliding down her cheeks, and I can’t help it. I reach up and wipe them away with my thumb.
“I don’t want the power,” I continue, my voice rough with desperation. “If the whispers bother you, if the throne feels like chains around your neck, then I’ll give it up. I don’t want the crown, Meher. But I need you. Because you didn’t just walk into my life, Rani-sa—you woke it up. You gave it color. You gave it breath. So understand this… it’s either you or nothing.”
Her sob breaks the silence, raw and sharp, and my heart splinters at the sound.
“You’re… you’re choosing me over everything?” Her voice trembles like a flame in the wind.
I shake my head slowly, my grip on her hand tightening. “No,” I say, and my lips almost curve into a smile because it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said. “You are my everything, Meher.”
That’s when her arms wrap around my neck, sudden and fierce, pulling me into her like she’s trying to erase every inch of space that ever existed between us. And I don’t hold back—not now, not ever. I crush her against me, burying my face in her shoulder, breathing her in like a drowning man tasting air for the first time.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers against my skin, her voice breaking. “I felt… scared. You’ve always had your throne, Raja-sa, and I know what power does to men. I just… I wanted to remember only the gentle version of you. I thought you’d get tired of me someday.”
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, my hands framing her face. “Impossible,” I say, my voice a vow. “I was tired before you, Meher. Tired of being alone. Tired of empty rooms and heavier crowns. When you left…” My chest tightens, and the words scrape against my throat. “When you left, I felt like the air left with you.”
A small laugh slips from her, broken but real, and I can’t help but smile through the ache.
“You should have talked to me, Rani-sa,” I murmur, brushing my lips over her temple. “Before taking such a big step. Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t found you? If I’d lost you for good?”
Her fingers curl into my shoulders, and her voice is small when she asks, “I mean that much to you?”
I chuckle softly, resting my forehead against hers. “You fool,” I whisper, my breath mingling with hers. “Don’t ask the obvious.You have no idea what you mean to me. We’ve only known each other for six months, but it feels like a lifetime—and not even that is enough.”
Her tears glimmer in the dim light, but this time, they’re paired with a smile. A soft, trembling smile that steals the last bit of restraint I had left.
“You said something in the letter,” I say, my voice husky now. “Something I’ve been waiting to hear for far too long. Say it, Meher. Please.”
She cups my cheeks with hands that still shake, her thumbs brushing away the moisture near my eyes. And then, in the gentlest way, she kisses them—first the left, then the right.
