Savita and the rest didn’t say anything while their lips pressed together with a knowing smile. They quickly applied light makeup to cover up the bruise.
Her hair was then braided loosely over her shoulder. She wore small gold earrings, a pair of bangles, and the emerald fish pendant.
She studied her reflection for a moment before looking away.
The pendant resting against her throat only reminded her of the man she was trying very hard not to think about and blush.
She had thirty minutes until breakfast time when she stepped out.
She stopped by the kitchen to chat with the cooks about the morning spread, swung by to check on Sheru and make sure the kitten had his saucer of milk and wasn't terrorizing anyone, and then headed toward the dining hall.
There were still ten minutes to spare when she walked in.
The staff was still arranging the final dishes when she greeted them with a smile and took her seat.
The dining table was already filled with breakfast dishes.
There were golden aloo parathas glistening with butter, bowls of fresh yogurt and homemade achar, saffron-infused kahwa, platters of seasonal fruit, soft girda bread, honey, almond pastries, and steaming copper pots of pink noon chai.
Near Rani Suchitra's place setting, several dishes from Rewa were laid out that Yamini recognized from childhood visits to the palace. The kitchen clearly intended to impress the queen mother.
When the grandfather clock struck 9, at the first strike, Bharat entered the dining hall.
Yamini’s heart jerked, and it began racing.
He looked exactly as he always did. Well put together with not a single thing out of place. That morning, he was wearing traditional Jogra clothing with a high-collared navy blue sherwani and a small heritage brooch.
He gave the staff a brief nod as they greeted him and moved toward his chair.
Then he saw her.
There was a tiny flicker across his face, gone before anyone else would have caught it. His stride didn't slow. He didn't smile or say good morning. He simply sat down in his seat and waited while the staff poured the pink noon chai into his cup and placed it at the exact spot they did each morning.
“Good morning, my dear maharaja,” Yamini greeted him. Although her words were spoken in a deliberate, sweet tone, there was no missing the underlying taunt.
His eyes lifted to her. His golden-brown gaze was intense as always, but his face remained unreadable. He looked cold and distant.
As if he hadn’t made her moan and scream hours ago. Or hadn’t kissed her breathless, and until her lips throbbed.
He gave her a curt nod and then picked up his chai.
Ugh. Why is he such an infuriating jerk?
She wanted to throw her chai at his perfectly composed face. But she also wanted him to kiss her again. Both those impulses warred inside her.
Before she could give in to either of her impulses or say anything, the rest of the family began arriving.
Samar Keshwa and Viraj Sahom came in first. They greeted Bharat and then her with a respectful “Bhabi.”
Pushing away her annoyance at their infuriating brother, Yamini smiled at them. “Good morning.”
Both men were maharajas and were intimidating as most wealthy, powerful royal men usually were. But compared to their infuriating older brother, they practically radiated warmth. Even Samar, who she had been fairly sure disliked her until yesterday, greeted her without any of his earlier stiffness.
Small victories.
Rani Suchitra arrived with Mira, and the whole room seemed to quietly straighten. The queen mother settled into her seat across from Yamini.
“Rani Ma,” Yamini greeted. “Mira.”
