The last two days of the journey were filled with a tense anticipation. Tanishka and Ridhima were silent, their previous boasts and malicious whispers replaced by tight, frozen smiles. They knew Aadhya's strategic knowledge, gifted by the mysterious Hunter, had stripped them of their main weapon—gossip—and they focused solely on their appearance for their grand arrival.
Aadhya, however, felt a consuming duality. She was proud of her victory, but the Hunter's words—his possessive gaze, the thrill of his claim—kept her awake. The knowledge that the dangerous man was always watching, always near, made every shadow a potential moment of terrifying, heady intimacy.
Finally, the landscape began to change.
The barren dust her sisters had mocked gave way to meticulously maintained fortifications. As they crested the final hill, the sight of Kanvargarh seized Aadhya's breath.
It was not the rustic, war-torn mess her sisters had described. It was a city carved from deep red and black granite, built into the side of a massive mountain range. Its walls were impossibly thick, soaring towers gleamed with bronze fixtures, and the architecture spoke not of wealth, but of unyielding, ancient power. Every stone was a declaration of strength. The capital city of Kanvargarh was a masterpiece of strategic elegance, clearly the most formidable and wealthy kingdom Aadhya had ever seen.
The sister's whispered slanders were not just wrong; they were a total fabrication. Tanishka and Ridhima gasped, their faces slack with shock and burgeoning panic.
Yashodhara, noticing their distress, smiled knowingly at Aadhya. "Welcome to Kanvargarh, Princess. I told you we value substance over mere glitter."
Aadhya looked out the carriage window, her heart pounding. The city was a perfect reflection of the power she was about to face dark, powerful, and utterly dominant.
The caravan entered the main gates of the Raunak Fort, the seat of the Rathore power.
Rajmata Vasundhara Rathore, having arrived with them, immediately turned to Aadhya in the courtyard. She embraced Aadhya with a warmth rooted in direct observation.
"Welcome home, my dear Aadhya," Vasundhara said, her voice filled with quiet approval. "I am so pleased we arrived safely. Your courage and insight throughout the journey have proven you ready for the trials of a queen."
Tanishka and Ridhima rushed forward, but Vasundhara's praise was a deliberate signal: Aadhya's competence was lauded; their flattery was ignored.
Aadhya was escorted to her chamber, a luxurious but severe suite that looked out over the expansive inner training yard. The moment the door closed, the immense pressure of the palace—Rudra's palace—overwhelmed her.
"Meera, lock the outer door," Aadhya whispered, needing to gather herself.
As Aadhya walked toward the window, she noticed the balcony door was ajar, even though it had been closed upon their arrival.
A familiar wave of chilling awareness washed over her. The Hunter. He was not just in the palace; he had been in her room. How can he enter the palace.
A small, tightly folded scroll was tucked into the silver lattice of the window frame. Aadhya's hand trembled as she snatched it.
She unrolled the note. It was written in a strong, masculine hand, the ink black and commanding. It was signed with the simple, stark crest of the Kanvargarh Royal House.
The gates are open, Princess. You have earned your seat. Your battle with the little songbirds is complete. Now, the real game begins.
King Rudra Pratap Singh Rathore awaits you tonight at the royal dinner.
Be prepared to lose all the composure you have carefully maintained.
A possessive knot twisted in Aadhya's stomach. Tonight. The command was clear, the threat palpable. She knew the Hunter had sent this message, or perhaps even written it on the King's behalf. It was a joint declaration of war on her composure.
She crumpled the note in her fist, her face flushed crimson. She was furious that the palace's defenses could be breached by the Hunter so easily, yet her blood sang with raw anticipation for the royal meeting.
She turned from the window, her jaw set. He thinks the King will crumble me. He thinks I will yield.
"Meera," Aadhya said, her voice now cold and utterly determined. "I need the strongest, most commanding dress you packed. And arrange for a bath. I must prepare to meet King Rudra."
Aadhya was ready. She would meet the Devil King, and she would find out exactly how intertwined his fate was with the terrifying man who had claimed her in the shadows.