“Like the Jogra maharani,” Savita said, simply and with complete confidence.
Yamini looked at her reflection.
The deep crimson pheran was luminous against her dusky skin, the gold tilla catching the light with every small movement. The sindoor was neat at her hairline. The dejhoor swept elegantly from ear to crown. The mathapatti sat straight. The emerald pendant rested against the embroidered collar, its green color contrasting vividly against the red and gold.
“Thank you,” she said to all four of them, meaning it. “All of you.”
They beamed with bright smiles.
She was escorted out quickly, moving through the palace corridors where the usual morning sounds were quiet.
At the main entrance, a guard held the door.
Yamini stepped outside.
The mountain air hit her immediately — cold and clean, carrying the particular sharpness of high-altitude morning. Thesky was a pale, cloudless blue above the peaks, and the snow gleamed white below it.
Bharat stood near the helicopter.
Traditional clothing suited him far too much.
The black and dark-gold pheran-style royal clothing made him appear less like a businessman and more like one of the warrior kings from the palace portraits.
Broad shoulders. Tall frame. And controlled posture.
Power seemed to cling to him naturally.
Only the sunglasses slightly ruined the illusion.
Her heart betrayed her with one stupid flutter.
She walked toward him with her chin lifted and her bangles chiming softly with each step.
“Where are Rani Ma and Mira?” she asked.
“Already at the temple,” he replied. “My brothers are also there.”
Yamini stared at him.
Brothers?
The entire family would know she was late.
“You shouldn’t have given instructions not to wake me!” she snapped. “Now, we are late, and everyone is already waiting.”
“We are not late.”
She was annoyed by his calmness. “We are supposed to have left ten minutes ago—”
“The helicopter takes six minutes,” he said. “We are not late.”
Yamini's jaw tightened. “Still, you shouldn’t have commanded the staff not to—”
“You needed the rest,” he said.
She blinked. “What?”
“You needed the rest,” he repeated. “And you look fine,” he added, in the same tone one might use to confirm a meetingtime or a weather report. He was already turning toward the helicopter. “Come.”
