The royal dinner finally ended, but the tension in the hall was suffocating. As the party rose, Rudra offered Aadhya no word or glance, his air of absolute finality serving as a new form of command. Maharaja Arjun and Rajmata Vasundhara were quick to engage Rudra, leaving Aadhya to navigate the retreat with her step-sisters.
Tanishka and Ridhima, shattered by the night's public humiliation, waited until they were back in the long, shadowy corridor leading to their respective wings. Their fear of Rudra was momentarily eclipsed by their intense, focused rage directed at Aadhya.
"You betrayer!" Ridhima hissed, grabbing Aadhya's arm so tightly her fingers dug into the velvet sleeve. "You let him treat you like that! Ordering you to eat, touching you like property in front of everyone! You've dragged our family's dignity through the mud!"
"He's a brute, a savage, and you played the docile pet!" Tanishka spat, her eyes wild with fury and humiliation. "This isn't a crown; it's a brutal chain! We should have supported Mother's plan for Devendra. At least he is a gentleman!"
Aadhya pulled her arm free, her face a mask of cold fury. Their anger was the predictable defense of the small-minded. "You are fools," she stated, her voice dangerously low. "You measured him by the glitter of gold, and you called the most formidable King in the region 'crude.' I played the role he demanded to secure our alliance. Your hatred for me has blinded you to reality. I am here as his chosen Queen. You are still empty gossipers."
She turned her back on them, not giving them the satisfaction of a prolonged fight. Let their hatred simmer. It will make their downfall all the more satisfying.
Aadhya walked quickly toward her chambers, her heart pounding not from fear of her sisters, but from the raw tension of Rudra's presence. She didn't make it to her door.
A large, hard hand suddenly clamped down on her wrist, spinning her around and slamming her back against the cool granite of the wall.
It was Rudra. He had moved with silent, predatory speed, cutting her off in the deep shadow of an archway.
"Running away so soon, Aadhya?" he murmured, his body pressed close, caging her. The sudden, overwhelming proximity—the heat, the scent of leather and power—stole her breath.
"I was retiring," Aadhya retorted, lifting her chin, despite the terrifying, exhilarating flutter in her stomach. "You made your public spectacle. The night is over, Maharaja."
His eyes, dark and heavy, lowered to her throat, where her pulse hammered frantically beneath the velvet of her dress.
"The night is over when I say it is," he corrected, his voice dropping to a low, commanding rasp. "And I did not give you leave to use that cold tone with me. That is disrespect, little tigress."
He raised his free hand, his knuckles brushing her cheekbone, mirroring the possessive touch he had used at the dinner table. "I heard your little skirmish in the corridor. Your sisters were screaming about my 'brutal chain.' They fail to understand the difference between a chain and an embrace."
A surge of white-hot rage, mixed with the sickening wave of physical submission his proximity always caused, burned through her.
"You humiliated me!" Aadhya whispered fiercely, her eyes blazing up at him. "You treated me like a prized animal. You are nothing but a brute in a king's skin!"
A dark, dangerous smile—the smile of the Hunter—spread across his lips. His eyes gleamed with intense, dark satisfaction.
"There it is," he murmured, his voice laced with triumph. "That fire. That fury. You are so beautiful when you forget the polite mask, Aadhya."
He lowered his head, his breath hot against her ear. "I humiliated you to show your sisters your place in this palace is absolute. They will not touch what is mine. And the commands? I find your angry obedience... immensely arousing. I will take great pleasure in seeing that face often."
He pulled back slightly, his eyes holding hers, his dominance complete. His hand slid from her cheek, down her jaw, and rested, heavy and possessive, on her collarbone.
"You will be mine fully, Aadhya. Mind, body, and will," he stated, the words a terrifying promise. "But I need that fight. I need that fury. So I will taunt you, I will command you, and I will break your composure every single day until you have no energy left for anyone but me."
He pressed his lips to her forehead—a single, hard, possessive kiss that felt like a brand of ownership. Then, with a final, lingering pressure on her collarbone, he released her and vanished into the darkness of the corridor.
Aadhya remained pinned against the cold granite, her body trembling violently, her chest heaving. Her fury was suffocating, yet the terrifying heat of his presence—the knowledge that his intense dominance was his twisted form of affection—left her utterly breathless.
He thinks he has mastered my emotions. He thinks my rage is for his entertainment.
A cold, calculating light returned to Aadhya's eyes. She had given him the anger he craved, and the submission he demanded. Now, it was time to move the pieces on the board. She would use her sisters' wounded pride to strike at the last man standing in her way: Devendra Singh Chauhan.