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Sultan's footsteps echoed sharply through the long palace corridors, each step heavy, controlled yet filled with restrained fury.

The torches along the walls flickered as he passed, their light casting shifting shadows across his tall frame, making his presence even more intimidating. His jaw was clenched, his expression hard, and the silence around him felt suffocating like the air itself knew better than to disturb him.

Behind him walked Zayan and Haider.

Haider was no longer the calm, composed man from before. His entire demeanor had shifted his shoulders squared, his gaze sharp and alert, every step precise like a soldier ready for battle at any moment. There was a dangerous stillness in him, the kind that didn't need noise to prove its threat.

Zayan, on the other hand, walked with a completely different energy.

His pace was relaxed, almost careless, as if he were merely strolling through the corridor instead of following a storm. One hand rested lazily near his side, while the other absentmindedly played with a ring on his finger. He glanced at Sultan from time to time, a faint, bored expression on his face, even rolling his tongue slightly inside his cheek as if holding back a comment he wasn't sure he should say.

The contrast between the three was striking.

And Sultan's silence... was far more dangerous than his anger.

They stepped into a vast chamber, more like a private council room, where large couches were arranged in a circular manner, meant for serious discussions. The high ceiling and dim lighting gave the place a heavy, controlled atmosphere.

Sultan walked in without a pause and sat down on one of the couches, leaning back as his head tilted slightly against the carved backrest, his posture appearing relaxed but it was a dangerous kind of calm. One arm rested loosely, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths as if he was holding his anger beneath the surface. Even in stillness, his presence dominated the room.

Haider quietly took a seat across from him, straight-backed and alert, his expression serious, already sensing what was coming.

Zayan, however, entered with his usual careless ease and casually dropped beside Sultan, almost jumping onto the couch without a second thought. The moment he settled, Sultan's eyes slowly opened and turned toward him dark, sharp, and burning. That one look was enough.

Zayan instantly stiffened, his casual attitude disappearing in a second. He quickly stood up, giving a fake, awkward smile, and moved away to sit beside Haider instead, muttering softly as if nothing had happened.

Haider remained silent, though a faint shift in his gaze showed he had noticed everything. And just like that, the room fell into a tense silence once again this time, no one dared to take Sultan lightly.

Sultan sat still, but the stillness wasn't calm-it was controlled fire. The dim light flickered across his face, sharpening the angles of his jaw as his eyes lifted slowly toward Haider. His voice came low, measured, but carrying a quiet threat,

"Haider... poori tahqiqat ke baad... kya maloom hua?

Kis ne jur'at ki hum par waar karne ki...?"

(**"Haider... after a full investigation... what did you find out?

Who dared to attack us...?")

Haider straightened, his expression turning rigid, his tone firm and respectful,

"Sultan... jaasoosi se yeh baat bilkul wazeh ho chuki hai ke yeh hamla... chachajaan, Nawab Rahman Mirza ki taraf se tha..."

("Sultan... our intelligence has made it absolutely clear that this attack... was carried out on the orders of your uncle, Nawab Rahman Mirza.")

He paused briefly, then added with more weight,

"Aur... unhe aapke nikah ki khabar bhi pohanch chuki hai..."

The words settled like poison in the room.

Zayan's casual posture shifted completely this time, his brows lifting slightly, interest now replaced with alertness. He leaned forward a little, his tone lower than before,

"Toh... unhone sirf hamla nahi kiya... paighaam bhi bheja hai..."

("And... word of your marriage has reached him as well...")

Sultan didn't react immediately.

His gaze dropped for a moment, then lifted again darker, colder. A faint, dangerous curve touched his lips, but there was no amusement in it.

"Nikah ki khabar...

(News of my wedding)

he repeated slowly, as if tasting the words, then his voice turned sharper,

"Toh unhe jaldi thi...

humari zindagi mein dakhal dene ki..."

("So he was in a hurry... to interfere in our life...")

Haider continued, his tone steady but tense,

"Sultan... yeh sirf hamla nahi tha... woh aapki quwwat ko aazmana chahte hain... aur shayad..."

(**"Sultan... this wasn't just an attack... they are testing your strength... and perhaps...")

he paused, then finished,

"...Sultana ko bhi nishana bana sakte hain."

("...they may even target the Sultana."**)

For the first time Sultan's expression changed.Not visibly... but the air around him shifted.His fingers tightened slightly, his jaw setting harder.

Zayan let out a slow breath, muttering,

"Chacha jaan marhum hone vale hai "

("Chacha jaan... is about to pass away.")

Sultan's eyes flicked toward him sharp enough to silence him again.

Then slowly, Sultan leaned forward, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous, controlled... final.

"Agar unhone humare nikah ko kamzori samjha hai..."

("If he has taken our marriage as a weakness...")

he paused, his gaze turning lethal,

"toh unhe jald hi samajh aa jayega... ke yeh unki sabse badi ghalti hai..."

("then he will soon realize... it is his greatest mistake.")

A brief silence followed.

Then

"Ab yeh sirf takraar nahi rahi..."

("This is no longer just a conflict...")

his voice was calm, but deadly certain,

"...ab yeh jung hai."

("...now it is war.")

And no one in the room doubted it.

Sultan remained silent for a moment after his words, his face unreadable but the air around him growing heavier with each passing second. Then he spoke, his voice low and controlled yet carrying a chilling edge,

"Unhe Sultana ko nishana nahi banana chahiye tha..."

("They should not have targeted the Sultana...")

He paused briefly, his fingers tightening slightly as he continued,

"Hum par waar karte... to shayad hum nazarandaaz bhi kar dete..."

(Had they struck at us... we might have even overlooked it...")

His tone was calm, almost thoughtful but that calm only made it more dangerous. Suddenly, he straightened from his relaxed posture, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. His gaze darkened completely, turning cold and lethal as he said firmly,

"Magar... humari Sultana par nazar dalne ki jurrat..."

A brief silence followed, his eyes hard as stone,

"...yeh ghalti unhe mehngi padegi."

("But... daring to even set their sights on our Sultana..."

A brief silence followed, his eyes hard as stone,

"...this is a mistake they will pay dearly for.")

The room fell completely still, no one daring to speak, because it was no longer just anger in his voice it was a clear warning of what was to come.

Haya's chamber was wrapped in a calm, composed silence when the soft sound of footsteps approached. A maid entered gracefully, lowering her gaze with utmost respect before speaking in a refined tone,

"Shehzadi... Sultana tashreef le aayi hain..."

("Princess... the Sultan has arrived.")

The words settled gently in the room. Haya, who had been standing near the window, did not turn immediately; her posture remained straight, her presence controlled. But there was a subtle shift-her gaze softened just a fraction as she replied with quiet authority,

"Unhein ba-adab andar laya jaye..."

("Let her be escorted inside with proper respect.")

The maid bowed and stepped back, disappearing beyond the doors.

For a brief moment, the room returned to stillness the soft sway of curtains, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. Then the doors opened once again.

Ruhani stepped inside.

Behind her, Nadia followed at a respectful distance, her head slightly lowered in etiquette. Ruhani paused just a step inside the chamber, her eyes instinctively moving around taking in the vastness, the elegance, the delicate balance of beauty and discipline in every corner. The soft golden light, the rich fabrics, the carefully arranged space it all felt different... quieter, but no less powerful.

Haya finally turned.

Her gaze fell upon Ruhani steady, observant, yet not unkind. She didn't speak immediately. Instead, she took a slow step forward, her eyes subtly studying her her expressions, her presence, the way she carried herself.

For a brief second Silence stretched between them. Then, with graceful composure, Haya spoke, her voice calm, dignified, and wrapped in tehzeeb,

"Tashreef layein, Sultana... aapka is qasr mein khair maqdam hai."

("Please come in, Sultana... you are welcome in this palace.")

Her tone held respect, but beneath it there was curiosity.

A quiet, careful curiosity.

Because she wasn't just looking at a guest. She was looking at the woman

Who had just become the Sultana.

Ruhani frowned slightly, clearly not understanding the refined words, but she didn't let it show much. Instead, she joined her hands politely and bowed her head a little,

"Pranam..."(Greetings)

Her tone was soft, respectful, though her eyes still carried that small confusion. Haya observed her quietly, noticing the unfamiliarity yet also the sincerity in her gesture. A faint, almost unreadable softness passed through Haya's expression before she spoke again, her voice still wrapped in grace,

"Aap tashreef rakhein, Sultana... yahan aaiye."

("Please have a seat, Sultana... come this way.")

Ruhani hesitated for a brief second, then slowly walked forward, her steps cautious as she reached the seating area. She looked once toward Nadia as if silently asking what to do next, then carefully sat down, trying to maintain the decorum she had been shown. Haya moved gracefully and took her seat opposite her, her posture straight, her presence calm yet authoritative.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Haya's gaze remained on Ruhani not harsh, but observant, as if trying to understand her beyond appearances. Then she spoke again, her tone slightly softer than before,

"Safar kaafi dushwar raha hoga... umeed hai ke aapko yahan kisi qisam ki takleef ka saamna nahi karna pada..."

("The journey must have been quite difficult... I hope you didn't face any kind of trouble here.")

Ruhani blinked once, clearly processing the words, then replied in her simple tone,

"Ji... sab theek hai... bas..."

she paused, thinking, then added honestly,

"thoda ajeeb lag raha hai..."

("Yes... everything is fine... it's just..."

She paused, thinking, then added honestly,

"...it feels a little strange.")

That honest answer created a brief silence. Haya didn't interrupt.

Instead, she watched her for a second longer, then said calmly,

"Ajeebiyat waqt ke saath door ho jati hai, Sultana... bas aadat dalni hoti hai..."

("Strangeness fades with time, Sultana... one simply has to grow accustomed to it.")

Ruhani nodded slowly, though it was clear she was still adjusting not just to the palace, but to everything around her.

The conversation was calm.Polite.But beneath it Two very different worlds were quietly trying to understand each other.

The calm of the chamber had barely settled when the tall doors opened once again, and Sultan stepped inside, his presence instantly shifting the atmosphere.

His steps were slow and measured, each one echoing softly against the marble floor, carrying a quiet authority that filled the room without effort. Nadia immediately lowered her gaze, while Ruhani turned toward him, her expression changing slightly alert, unsure, yet curious.

Haya rose gracefully, acknowledging him with composed dignity as she said,

"Ahlan, Sultan... aap is waqt?"

("Welcome, Sultan...you here at this hour?")

Sultan inclined his head slightly and replied in a steady tone,

"Aapa... hume aapse ek zaroori guftagu karni hai..."

("Aapa... I need to speak with you about something important...")

Haya's eyes sharpened just a little as she understood the seriousness, and she nodded,

"Ji, farmayiye..."

(Yes )

But Sultan didn't continue; instead, his gaze shifted toward Ruhani for a brief second before he spoke again,

"Sultana... agar aap ijaazat dein, to hume Aapa se tanha baat karni hai."

("Sultana... if you permit, I would like to speak with Aapa in private.")

Ruhani blinked, then nodded quickly, turning toward Haya with a soft, respectful

"Pranam..."

Haya acknowledged her with a slight nod,

"Khuda hafiz, Sultana..."

Ruhani turned to leave, her steps quiet and composed, but as she passed Sultan, she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear,

"Jab dekho humare piche piche aa jate hai... rakshash kahin ke..."

("Every time I turn around, you're right behind me... like some relentless beast...")

and continued walking as if nothing had happened. Sultan's gaze flickered for a brief moment, a faint shift in his expression, but he said nothing. The doors closed behind her, leaving the room in a deep, serious silence once again.

Ruhani walked through the long palace corridor, her steps a little faster than usual, her brows still slightly furrowed as she kept mumbling under her breath.

The silence of the corridor only made her whispers more noticeable, though thankfully no one was close enough to hear clearly. She folded her arms lightly and muttered,

"Sach mein... ajeeb vyakti hain... hume hi bahar bhej diya..."

Hum kya unki baato ko kisi ko bta dete

...

She huffed softly and kept walking, her lips still moving,

"Jaise hum koi choti bacchi hain...

'Sultana bahar jaiye'... arey hum bhi dekhte kya baat ho rahi thi..."

She turned a corner, her expression turning more dramatic as she continued,

"Aur woh nazar... aise dekhte hain jaise abhi kha jayenge... bilkul rakshash hain... bade wale..."

She paused for a second, then added with a tiny pout,

"vaise to jab dekho haath pakad lete hain... jaise hum kahin bhaag jayenge..."

"Or aab Sultana bahar jaiye....."

("Honestly... such a strange man... he sent me outside..."

She muttered under her breath,

"As if I would go around telling anyone what they were discussing..."

She huffed softly and kept walking, her lips still moving,

"As if I'm some little child... 'Sultana, please step outside'... oh really? I would have liked to see what was so important..."

Turning the corner, her expression grew more dramatic,

"And that look of his... as if he could devour me any moment... truly like a monster... a terrifying one..."

She paused, then added with a small pout,

"Though most of the time, he just grabs my hand... as if I might run away somewhere..."

"...and now again- 'Sultana, step outside.'")

A guard passing by lowered his head respectfully, but Ruhani didn't even notice, too busy in her own world. She sighed and shook her head, her tone turning almost thoughtful now,

"Par... ajeeb baat hai... itne bade rakshash hote hue bhi... kabhi kabhi..."

("But... it's strange... being such a fearsome monster, yet sometimes...")

She stopped mid-sentence, blinking as if she had almost said something she didn't want to admit.

Quickly shaking her head again, she dismissed the thought and continued walking, muttering,

"Nahi nahi... bilkul rakshash hi hain... aur kuch nahi..."

And just like that She kept walking through the grand corridor, completely unaware that if Sultan heard even half of what she was saying...

Ruhani pushed the door open and walked into her chamber, still carrying that same annoyed energy. Without bothering to look around, she went straight to the bed and sat down with a small huff, her hands dropping beside her as if she had just been unfairly dismissed.

Kaashi, who had been sitting on the couch, immediately noticed her expression and rushed toward her with concern.

"Kya kaha unhone, Ruhani...?"

she asked softly, sitting beside her.

Ruhani looked at her, her brows knitting again as she replied with a mix of irritation and disbelief,

"Kehte kya...? Aapke jeeja sa wahan aa gaye... aur hume turant bahar bhej diya..."

She mimicked slightly under her breath,

"Hume Aapa se tanha baat karni hai..."

("she say what...? Your brother-in-law came there... and i was immediately sent out..."

She mimicked slightly under her breath,

"He wants to speak alone with Aapa...")

then made a small face, clearly not impressed.

Kaashi tried to hold back a smile but stayed composed, while Ruhani continued, now more expressive,

"Jaise hum wahan khadi reh kar unki rajneeti sun leti... hume to waise bhi aadhi baat samajh nahi aati..."

She crossed her arms lightly and added with a pout,

"Aur upar se aise dekhte hain... jaise humne hi kuch galat kar diya ho..."

("As if I would just stand there and listen to their politics... I don't even understand half of what they say anyway..."

She crossed her arms lightly and added with a pout,

"And on top of that, he look at me like... as if I am the ones who did something wrong...")

Kaashi finally let out a small laugh, shaking her head, while Ruhani just lay back slightly on the bed, still grumbling, completely unaware that her complaints were more amusing than serious.

Just then, the door opened softly, and Nadia along with Farukh entered the chamber, both carrying trays of food in their hands. The aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the room, bringing a slight warmth to the otherwise tense mood.

Nadia stepped forward gracefully and placed the tray on the low table near the bed, while Farukh set the other beside it, both maintaining their respectful posture.

Nadia then spoke in a composed tone,

"Sultana, aapke liye ghiza pesh ki gayi hai... umeed hai ke aap qabool farmaayengi."

("Lady Sultana, food has been presented for you... it is hoped that you will accept it.")

Farukh lowered his head slightly in agreement, standing quietly beside her.

Ruhani, who had been lying back in mild frustration, lifted her head and looked at them, her expression softening a little at the sight of food. She sat up slowly, her annoyance fading just a bit as she said simply,

"Rakh dijiye..."

(Keep it here)

then glanced at Kaashi and added,

"Chaliye... kam se kam yeh to accha hai..."

Kaashi smiled faintly, while Nadia and Farukh stepped back respectfully, giving them space. The room, which moments ago was filled with complaints and irritation, now felt calmer though Ruhani's thoughts about Sultan were clearly not over yet.

Ruhani didn't wait any longer she instantly sat properly on the bed and pulled the plate toward herself, her earlier frustration forgotten the moment food came in front of her.

Without any formality, she picked up a bite and started eating, her expression finally relaxing a little. Between bites, she looked up at Nadia and Farukh and said casually,

"Aap dono bhi khaiye na... bas khade kyun hain...?"

("Both of you should eat as well... why are you just standing there?")

Nadia and Farukh exchanged a brief glance, slightly surprised by her words, as if they weren't used to being addressed like that. Nadia lowered her gaze respectfully and replied,

"Sultana... hum baad mein"

but Ruhani cut her off mid-sentence, still eating,

"Baad mein kyun... abhi kha lo..."

("Sultana... we'll eat later."

But Ruhani cut her off mid-sentence, still eating,

"Why later... eat now...")

Kaashi, who had already settled beside her, began eating calmly, a small knowing smile on her lips as she watched Ruhani's natural behavior. The contrast in the room was clear formal etiquette on one side, and Ruhani's simple, unfiltered warmth on the other.

Farukh shifted slightly, still unsure, while Nadia remained composed but for a moment, even they couldn't ignore how different this Sultana was from what they had expected.

After some time, the room grew quiet again as the food was finally finished. Ruhani leaned back slightly, placing the empty plate aside with a small satisfied sigh, her earlier irritation now completely gone.

Kaashi calmly wiped her hands and adjusted her clothes , her movements soft and composed.

Nadia and Farukh stepped forward immediately, collecting the plates with practiced grace, ensuring everything was neat without making unnecessary noise.

Ruhani watched them for a moment, then stretched her arms lightly as if releasing all the tiredness from the long day.

"Ab thoda acha lag raha hai..."

("Now it feels a little better...")

she said simply, glancing at Kaashi with a small smile.

Kaashi nodded,

"Haan... ab aapko aaram kar lena chahiye..."

("Yes... now you should rest...")

Nadia lowered her gaze respectfully and added,

"Sultana, agar aap hukm dein to hum kamra tayyar kar dein aapke aaram ke liye..."

("Sultana, if you command, we can prepare the room for your rest...")

Ruhani blinked at her words, then replied in her usual tone,

"Nahi... theek hai... hum kar lenge..."

(No it's ok I will do it)

Farukh and Nadia exchanged a brief glance, then bowed slightly before stepping back, quietly taking the trays with them and leaving the room in silence.

As the door closed behind them, the chamber felt calmer again only Ruhani and Kaashi remained, the long day finally beginning to settle on them.

Just as the calm settled in the room, the door opened again, and a maid hurried inside. The sudden interruption made Ruhani instantly straighten her posture, quickly adjusting her dupatta and sitting properly like a royal, trying to match the dignity expected of her.

The maid bowed deeply, her tone filled with grace and respect as she spoke,

"Sultana... Malika-e-Aala, yani Sultan ki Ammijaan, mehal mein tashreef la chuki hain... aur Sultan ne aapko foran talab farmaya hai..."

("Sultana... the Queen Mother, that is the Sultan's mother, has arrived at the palace... and the Sultan has summoned you immediately...")

Ruhani blinked at the refined words, trying to process everything at once, her expression shifting from composed to slightly confused for a second. She glanced at Kaashi as if silently asking ab kya karein...? then looked back at the maid.

The atmosphere in the room changed again Because this wasn't just anyone calling her.It was the Sultan.And his mother.

Ruhani didn't waste a moment after hearing the message. She quickly stood up, her movements a little hurried this time, the earlier confidence replaced by a visible nervousness. Kaashi immediately came beside her, giving her a small reassuring look, and together they followed the maid out of the chamber.

The long corridors felt different now quieter, heavier as if every step was leading toward something important. Ruhani walked just behind the maid, her fingers lightly clutching the edge of her dupatta, her eyes moving around but her thoughts clearly elsewhere. For the first time since entering the palace, she felt unsure.

"Kaashi..."

she whispered softly without looking at her,

"yeh... Sultan ki maasa ... kaisi hongi...?"

("This... Sultan's mother... what kind of person would she be...?")

Her voice carried a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Kaashi gave a faint smile, though even she seemed cautious,

"Rajmahal ki mahilayein aam nahi hoti, Ruhani... sambhal kar boliyega..."

("Women of the royal palace are not ordinary, Ruhani... speak carefully...")

Ruhani nodded slightly, taking a small breath as if preparing herself. Step by step, they moved ahead, following the maid deeper into the palace toward a meeting that would not be as simple as the ones before.

Ruhani nodded slightly, taking a small breath as if preparing herself. Step by step, she and Kaashi followed the maid deeper into the palace until the corridors finally opened into a vast royal diwan-e-khaas hall, a place where the royal family gathered for important meetings.

High pillars lined the sides, lamps glowing softly, and at the far end, an elevated seating arrangement marked the presence of authority.

As soon as Ruhani stepped inside, her eyes instinctively moved around, taking in everything the grandeur, the people... and the unfamiliar tension.

Sultan was already there.

Standing near the central seating, his posture straight, his presence dominating the space. The moment his gaze fell on her, he spoke in a calm yet commanding tone,

"Begum... idhar tashreef layein..."

(Come here begum)

Ruhani gave a small nod and began walking toward him, her steps careful this time, aware that all eyes were now on her. As she came closer, her gaze shifted around again-observing each face.

Princess Haya stood to one side, composed as always, and beside her was a small girl, no more than five or six years old, peeking curiously at Ruhani while holding onto Haya's hand. A few steps away stood Zayan and Haider, both silent, their expressions controlled but clearly attentive.

On the other side were two royal women elegantly dressed, their posture dignified and with them stood a young girl around Ruhani's age, her gaze fixed on Ruhani with a mix of curiosity and something else... something unreadable.

Ruhani slowed slightly as she reached Sultan's side.

For a moment She could feel it.

All those eyes on her.

Judging.

Observing.

Measuring.

And without realizing it, her fingers tightened just a little around the edge of her dupatta.

Sultan did not give her time to settle into the moment. The instant Ruhani came to stand beside him, his hand reached out and closed around hers firm, steady, almost claiming.

Ruhani's breath hitched softly at the sudden touch, her eyes lifting toward him in slight surprise, but before she could react, his voice echoed through the hall, calm yet authoritative,

"Inse miliye, Begum... yeh hain humari badi Ammijaan... Shariya Begum."

("Meet her, Begum... this is our elder mother... Shariya Begum.")

Ruhani's gaze slowly shifted toward the woman. Shariya Begum stood with regal poise, her posture flawless, her chin slightly lifted, her eyes sharp and observant. Ruhani immediately joined her hands, lowering her gaze respectfully,

"Pranam..."

Her voice was soft, but her fingers tightened faintly around her dupatta.

Shariya Begum didn't respond instantly.

She looked at Ruhani carefully, deeply. Her gaze moved from her face to her attire, then to the way she stood beside Sultan.

There was a brief flicker in her eyes... something cold, something measuring... almost disapproval. It was subtle, but it was there. And then, just as smoothly, she masked it. Her lips curved into a faint, controlled smile, and she gave a slight nod.

Acceptance.

But not warmth.

Ruhani felt it clearly.

Before that silence could stretch, Sultan's fingers tightened slightly around her hand, guiding her forward again. His presence beside her felt steady, grounding in a strange way, as he spoke,

"Begum... yeh hain humari Ammijaan... Mahima Begum."

( She is my mother)

Ruhani looked up again.

And this time the difference was immediate.

Mahima Begum's eyes softened the moment they met Ruhani's. There was warmth there... real warmth. No judgment, no sharpness. Ruhani greeted again, a little unsure but respectful,

"Pranam..."

But before she could even straighten fully, Mahima Begum stepped forward and gently placed her hand over Ruhani's head in blessing.

"Pranam, Sultana..."

she said, her voice soft, affectionate, carrying a calm kindness that instantly eased something inside Ruhani.

Ruhani froze for a moment.

Her eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting that gesture, that acceptance. Slowly, she looked up at her, confusion and surprise flickering across her face, along with something softer... something almost relieved.

Mahima Begum noticed everything.

A faint, knowing smile appeared on her lips as she turned her gaze toward Sultan and said, with a light teasing warmth,

"Waqqai, Sultan... aap mein apne Abbu ki hi aadatein hain... isi liye to aapne bhi unki tarah ek Hindustani ladki par apna dil haar diya..."

("Truly, Sultan... you have inherited your father's habits... that is why you too, like him, have lost your heart to an Indian girl...")

Ruhani's breath caught.

Her eyes widened further, her gaze instantly snapping toward Sultan shock, embarrassment, disbelief all mixing together in her expression.

But Sultan didn't let her thoughts wander.

His voice came low, controlled, pulling her back,

"Begum..."

then he added calmly,

"Humari Ammijaan bhi Hindustani hi hain..."

("Ammi is also Indian...")

Ruhani blinked, her gaze shifting slowly back to Mahima Begum. This time, she looked at her differently... more carefully. And the warmth she saw there it stayed.

But the moment was brief.

Sultan guided her ahead once again.

This time, toward Nafisa.

The air changed instantly.

Nafisa stood still, perfectly composed, her posture elegant but her gaze... it was sharp. Dark. Watching. Not welcoming. Not curious. Something deeper... something colder.

Sultan spoke, his tone neutral once more,

"Aur yeh hain, Begum... Nafisa... humari dost... aur badi Ammijaan ki bhatiji."

("And this is, Begum... Nafisa... our friend... and the elder mother's niece.")

Ruhani felt that gaze land on her.

For a second, her fingers tightened again, but she didn't step back. She simply joined her hands and greeted softly,

"Pranam..."

Nafisa's lips curved slightly, but it wasn't a smile. Just acknowledgment. Her head dipped a fraction no warmth, no softness.

Ruhani noticed.

But she said nothing.

Sultan noticed too.

But he moved on.

As he turned toward Haya, something in him shifted. The sharpness in his eyes softened just a little, almost unnoticeable, but there. His hold on Ruhani's hand loosened, no longer firm almost gentle now.

Beside Haya stood a small girl, her tiny fingers clutching her mother's hand, her wide eyes filled with curiosity as she looked at Sultan.

Sultan's voice lowered, softer than before,

"Aur inse miliye, Begum... humari nanhi Shehzadi... Mariyam...

("And meet her, Begum... our little princess... Mariyam...")

Aapa ki beti..."

Ruhani's expression changed instantly.

The tension melted from her face, replaced by a natural warmth. She bent slightly to the child's level, her eyes soft, a small genuine smile forming on her lips as she said,

"Pranam..."

The little girl blinked, then straightened adorably, trying to imitate royal grace as she replied in her tiny voice,

"Aadaab, Sultana..."

And for the first time since entering the hall A real, unguarded smile appeared on Ruhani's face.

For a moment She didn't feel judged.

She didn't feel watched.

She just felt... seen.

The soft moment with Mariyam didn't last long.

As Ruhani straightened, her eyes still carrying that faint warmth, the atmosphere of the hall slowly shifted again back to something more formal, more watchful. Conversations remained unspoken, but the silence itself held weight.

Sultan's hand, which had loosened earlier, moved again this time resting lightly at Ruhani's back, guiding her a step forward toward the central seating. His touch was subtle, almost controlled, but enough to signal her place beside him.

He spoke, his voice steady, authoritative,

"Tashreef rakhein, sab..."

Everyone took their places.

Haya sat gracefully with Mariyam beside her, gently keeping the child close.

Shariya Begum occupied the main seat with quiet dominance, her presence still as commanding as before.

Mahima Begum sat beside her, her expression calm, though her gaze occasionally softened when it drifted toward Ruhani. Nafisa sat slightly to the side, her posture perfect, but her eyes still fixed on Ruhani, still unreadable.

Ruhani hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Then, feeling Sultan's presence beside her, she sat where he indicated.

Her posture was careful now aware, controlled but her fingers still played lightly with the edge of her dupatta, betraying the nervousness she was trying to hide.

For a moment No one spoke.

Then Shariya Begum broke the silence.

Her voice was calm, but carried authority that filled the hall without effort,

"Sultan... humne suna ke aap safar se seedha is qasr mein tashreef laaye... aur saath hi..."

she paused, her gaze shifting toward Ruhani, "

...ek nayi zimmedari bhi le aaye."

("Sultan... we heard that you came straight to this palace from your journey... and along with it..."

She paused, her gaze shifting toward Ruhani,

"...you have also brought a new responsibility.")

The words were polite.

But the meaning beneath them was not.

Ruhani felt that gaze again.

Sharp.

Assessing.

The silence in the grand hall had turned dense after Shariya Begum's words, every gaze subtly resting on Sultan and Ruhani.

Ruhani sat still beside him, her fingers lightly clutching the edge of her dupatta, her posture careful yet betraying her nervousness. She could feel those eyes judging, measuring and for a brief second, her gaze dropped.

Beside her, Sultan remained completely composed. His posture relaxed, yet there was a controlled strength in the way he sat, as if nothing in that hall could shake his authority. Slowly, he straightened just a little, his gaze lifting with quiet command.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, steady but carried a weight that filled the entire space.

"Badi Ammijaan... humari Begum koi zimmedari nhi hai

("Elder Ammi... our Begum is not a responsibility.".")

As he spoke, his eyes shifted toward Ruhani.

Not soft... not harsh either.

Measured. Intentional.

Ruhani felt it.

Her breath slowed slightly as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes, confusion mixing with something else something she couldn't quite name.

Sultan continued, his voice unwavering,

"Sultana Ruhani... sirf humari humsafar nahi... balki iss riyasat ki Sultana bhi hain."

("Sultana Ruhani... is not just my companion... but also the Sultana of this kingdom.")

Ruhani's fingers stilled completely now.

Her eyes widened just a fraction, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She looked at him properly this time, as if trying to understand if he truly meant those words. There was no mockery in his expression. No hesitation.

Only certainty.

Sultan's gaze lifted again, addressing the room, yet somehow still anchored around her presence.

"Inka talluq Hindustan ke ek shaurya aur maryada se bhare khandaan se hai... ek aisa khandaan jahan wafadari aur himmat virasat hoti hai."

("She belongs to a noble and honorable family of Hindustan... a family where loyalty and courage are inherited as legacy.")

Ruhani blinked, her throat tightening slightly. She wasn't used to this to being spoken of like this... in front of so many. Her gaze dropped again, but this time not out of fear out of unfamiliarity.

Sultan leaned slightly forward, his tone lowering, gaining depth,

"Inhone jung ka maidan dekha hai... khauf ke saamne jhukna nahi... balki uska saamna karna jaanti hain."

("She has seen the battlefield... she does not bow before fear... she knows how to face it instead.")

A faint flicker passed through Ruhani's eyes.

Memories.

Something unspoken.

Her grip on her dupatta tightened again, but this time there was strength in it.

Sultan's gaze shifted back to her for the briefest second.

And something in his expression changed almost imperceptibly.

Then his voice came again, calmer, yet firmer,

"Aur sabse aham... yeh kisi bhi surat mein kamzor nahi hain humari Begum ko apni hifajat ke liye kisi ki zarurat nhi hai."

Humari bhi nhi.....

("And most importantly... she is in no way weak. Our Begum does not need anyone for her protection."

"Nor do we...")

Ruhani slowly lifted her gaze.

This time, there was no confusion in her eyes.

Only a quiet stillness.

As if she was finally beginning to understand the weight of where she stood.

Sultan leaned back again, his posture returning to that effortless control, his presence dominating the space without force.

"Is liye... umeed hai ke aap sab inhe wohi ehtram denge... jo iss riyasat ki Sultana ko diya jata hai."

His voice settled.

And with it The room fell completely silent.

Ruhani didn't move.

But something inside her had shifted.

The same hall that had felt heavy... judgmental... now felt different.

Because now She wasn't just being seen.

She had been claimed... and established.

At the far end, reactions finally began to surface Shariya Begum's gaze had turned more assessing than before, as if reconsidering her entirely; Mahima Begum's lips carried a soft, proud smile; Haya remained composed but observant; Nafisa's eyes had darkened slightly, her expression unreadable; Zayan looked faintly amused yet impressed; and Haider stood silent, but his attention sharper than before.

After some time, the noise of the palace, the voices, the formalities-everything slowly faded away for Ruhani.

She sat alone in the balcony.

The evening sky stretched endlessly in front of her, painted in soft hues of orange and fading gold, the cool breeze brushing gently against her face, moving the loose strands of her hair. The grand palace behind her still carried its weight, its rules, its watchful eyes but here... for a moment... it felt distant.

Ruhani pulled her knees slightly closer, her fingers loosely wrapped around them as she stared ahead, lost somewhere deep in her thoughts.

Everything from the day replayed in her mind.

The hall.

The gazes.

The way everyone had looked at her.

The way he had spoken.

Her lips pressed together slightly as she remembered Sultan's words. "Iss riyasat ki Sultana hain..."

she murmured faintly under her breath, almost as if trying to understand them again.

Her brows furrowed a little.

"Ajeeb vyakti hain..."

she whispered softly, a small pout forming unconsciously,

"Kabhi daant dete hain... kabhi sabke saamne itni badi baatein bol dete hain..."

She let out a quiet sigh, resting her chin on her knee now, her gaze drifting toward the sky again.

"Samajh hi nahi aate..."

For a moment, she fell silent.

The breeze grew slightly stronger, carrying with it a strange calm. Her expression softened, her eyes losing that playful annoyance and turning quieter... thoughtful.

"Par..."

she paused, her voice barely above a whisper,

"parntu babasa se bilkul alg hai..."

She blinked slowly, almost surprised at her own thought.

Her fingers tightened slightly over her dupatta.

For the first time since entering the palace, something inside her felt... different.

Not fear.

Not confusion.

Something unfamiliar.

She quickly shook her head, dismissing the thought, her lips forming a small annoyed pout again,

"Nahi... bilkul unki hi trha rakshash hi hain... aur kuch nahi..."

But even as she said it Her voice didn't hold the same certainty anymore.

And she didn't notice it.

Because she was too busy staring at the sky...

Trying to understand a man Who made no sense at all.

After sitting there for a while, Ruhani finally let out a small sigh and stood up, brushing her hands lightly over her dress as if trying to shake off the thoughts still clinging to her mind. She took one last glance at the sky and then turned, stepping back inside her chamber.

But the moment she entered-

She stopped.

Completely.

Her steps froze mid-way, her eyes widening in pure shock.

The room... was different.

Where earlier everything had been calm and simple, now it was filled with soft lights, delicate fabrics, and fresh flowers. Rich drapes had been adjusted, candles and lamps were lit in a warm golden glow, and faint fragrance of attar spread in the air. The bed had been decorated with fine sheets and scattered petals, making the entire chamber look... unfamiliar.

Decorated.

Prepared.

Ruhani blinked, her gaze moving slowly across the room, trying to process what she was seeing.

"Nadia..

she spoke hesitantly.

Nadia, Farukh, Kaashi, and a few other maids were busy arranging things, but the moment they noticed her, all of them straightened instantly. Nadia stepped forward respectfully, her head slightly bowed,

"Sultana..."

Ruhani looked at her, then around the room again, her confusion now clearly visible on her face.

"Yeh... sab kya hai...?"

Kaashi glanced at Nadia briefly, then back at Ruhani, a faint knowing smile appearing on her lips, but she didn't speak.

Farukh lowered his gaze, maintaining composure.

Nadia answered, her tone soft yet formal,

"Aaj ki raat ke liye kamra aarasta (ready) kiya ja raha hai, Sultana..."

Ruhani frowned slightly, not fully understanding.

"Aaj ki raat...?"

Her eyes slowly moved toward the decorated bed.

Then back to Nadia.

And suddenly Something clicked.

Her expression changed instantly.

Shock.

Realization.

And a sudden rush of nervousness.

Her fingers tightened around her dupatta as she took a small step back, her eyes widening again,

"Nahi... matlab... yeh... kyun...?"

The maids lowered their gazes, hiding faint smiles.

Kaashi finally stepped closer, her voice low, teasing yet gentle,

"Ruhani... aap ab is riyasat ki Sultana hain..."

Ruhani looked at her.

Still not fully ready to accept what that meant.

Her heart started beating a little faster.

Her eyes instinctively moved toward the door for a second As if expecting someone to walk in at any moment.

And suddenly The beautifully decorated room didn't feel calm anymore.

It felt... overwhelming.

Ruhani was still standing there, her eyes moving from the decorated bed to the soft lights, to the flowers, as if trying to understand what was happening, when Nadia speak gracefully. She lowered her gaze with respect and spoke in a calm, refined tone,

"Sultana... yeh Malika-e-Aala, yani Sultan ki Ammijaan ka hukm hai ke aapko aaj ki raat ke liye tayyar kiya jaye..."

The words settled slowly.

Ruhani blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Her grip on her dupatta tightened instantly, her shoulders stiffening as the meaning of those words finally reached her.

"Taiyaar...?"

she repeated softly, almost to herself, her voice carrying a mix of disbelief and sudden nervousness.

Her eyes moved again toward the decorated bed.

Then back to Nadia.

"Hum... kyun...?"

she asked, though deep down, she already knew the answer.

Kaashi stepped closer, her expression softer now, understanding the storm running through Ruhani's mind.

"Ruhani..." she said gently, "yeh rasm hoti hai..."

Ruhani looked at her, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

The maids had already begun preparing things-laying out clothes, bringing jewelry, adjusting the room but Ruhani still stood frozen in her place, as if her feet refused to move forward.

Her heartbeat picked up.

Her thoughts tangled.

Ruhani was still standing there, lost between understanding and hesitation, when the maids gently but firmly began their work. Nadia gave a small signal, and within moments the room shifted from quiet decoration to careful preparation.

Kaashi stepped closer first, her touch soft as she held Ruhani's hands,

"Chaliye..."

she said gently, guiding her toward the center. Ruhani moved slowly, almost mechanically, her eyes still wide, her thoughts running faster than her steps.

The maids brought forward a beautifully folded attire.

Deep red.

Rich.

Heavy.

A Rajputana bridal lehenga, embroidered with intricate golden zari work, every thread shining under the warm lights. The fabric itself looked royal thick, elegant, carrying the weight of tradition. Along with it came a long, delicately designed odhani, bordered with fine gold detailing, meant to drape gracefully over her head.

Ruhani looked at it.

Her breath caught slightly.

For a moment, memories flickered-her own land, her own people... her own identity.

Kaashi noticed the shift in her expression and gently said,

"Yeh aapka hi hai, Ruhani... aapki pehchaan..."

That was enough.

Ruhani didn't resist anymore.

The maids carefully helped her change, their movements practiced and precise. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as the lehenga was draped around her, the dupatta settled over her head, falling lightly across her shoulder. Then came the jewelry Heavy yet elegant.

A maang tikka resting perfectly on her forehead, a delicate nath (nose ring) with a fine chain brushing against her cheek, layers of necklaces adorning her neck, bangles filling her wrists, and anklets that made the faintest sound with every step.

Each piece added weight.

But also presence.

Ruhani stood still as they adorned her, her reflection slowly forming in the mirror before her. Her hands rested lightly in front of her, her fingers slightly curled, as if unsure where to hold themselves.

Nadia adjusted the final layer of her dupatta, ensuring it framed her face perfectly. Farukh stepped back, observing quietly to ensure everything was flawless.

Kaashi came to stand beside her.

"Dekhiye..."

she whispered softly.

Ruhani slowly lifted her gaze.

And looked at herself.

For a moment She didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.

The simple, expressive Ruhani... now stood transformed into a Rajput Sultanagraceful, adorned, powerful.

But her eyes Still held that same innocence.

That same confusion.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath uneven as she whispered, almost to herself,

"Yeh... hum hain...?"

Kaashi smiled faintly, her eyes soft,

"Haan... "

Ruhani swallowed slowly, her heart beating faster again not from fear this time, but from the weight of what this moment meant.

Behind her, the maids stepped back in satisfaction.

The room fell quiet again.

But this time Ruhani wasn't just standing there.

She was ready.

Even if her heart... still wasn't.

The final touch was given, and the maids slowly stepped back, admiring their work in silence. The soft glow of the lamps reflected on Ruhani's jewelry, making her look even more radiant almost unreal.

Nadia then moved forward gently, her voice calm yet respectful,

"Sultana... tashreef rakhiye..."

Ruhani blinked, still lost in her own thoughts, but nodded faintly. Her steps were slow, careful the heavy lehenga making even the smallest movement feel deliberate. The soft sound of her payal echoed faintly as she walked toward the bed.

Kaashi stayed close beside her, subtly supporting her.

As Ruhani reached the bed, she hesitated for a brief second, her eyes flickering toward it the flowers, the arrangement, everything suddenly feeling overwhelming again. Her fingers tightened slightly around her dupatta.

Kaashi noticed.

She gently held her hand and guided her,

"Baith jaiye..."

Ruhani finally sat down.

Slowly.

Gracefully.

The weight of her attire settled around her, the dupatta falling softly over her head and shoulders. Her hands came to rest in her lap, fingers nervously intertwining with each other.

Her posture was straight.

Perfect.

Just like a queen should be.

But her eyes They moved slightly, uncertain, her breath a little uneven.

The room, filled with soft lights and delicate fragrance, now felt too quiet.

Too still.

Nadia and the other maids adjusted the final details the folds of her lehenga, the position of her dupatta, ensuring everything looked flawless. Then, one by one, they stepped back.

Kaashi looked at her for a moment longer.

Her expression soft.

Understanding.

But even she didn't say anything now.

Because this was a moment Ruhani had to face alone.

And as the last of the maids slowly moved toward the door, the chamber grew silent again.

Leaving Ruhani sitting on the decorated bed Still.Waiting.

Her heart beating louder with every passing second.

The door closed softly behind the last maid, and with that, a deep silence settled over the chamber so heavy that Ruhani could almost hear her own heartbeat echoing in it. She sat still on the decorated bed, her posture straight, her hands resting neatly in her lap, but her fingers refused to stay calm, constantly twisting the edge of her dupatta.

The soft glow of the lamps flickered around her, reflecting off her jewelry, while the faint fragrance of flowers filled the air yet instead of soothing her, it made everything feel more intense, more real. Her eyes slowly moved across the room, taking in every detail again, as if seeing it for the first time.

The same space that had felt normal before now felt unfamiliar... overwhelming. She swallowed slightly, her throat dry, her lips parting as she whispered almost to herself,

"Yeh sab... itna ajeeb kyun lag raha hai..."

The weight of her attire settled around her, every small movement reminding her of the moment she was in. Her thoughts drifted back toward the hall, the watching eyes, the way everyone had looked at her... and then to him. Her brows furrowed faintly, a soft murmur escaping her lips,

"Rakshash..."

but this time, there was no real irritation in it only a strange softness, almost confusion. She looked down at her hands, trying to calm herself, but the silence only grew louder. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing second heavier than the last.

Slowly, almost unknowingly, her gaze lifted toward the door. Then again. As if expecting it to open at any moment. Her back straightened further, her breath turning uneven. And then she heard it. Faint footsteps outside.

Ruhani froze instantly, her fingers going still, her entire body stiffening. Her eyes fixed on the door, her heartbeat pounding so loudly it felt like it might be heard outside. The handle moved. Slowly. And the door... began to open.

The door finally pushed open, and a subtle shift passed through the room as Sultan stepped inside.

He entered with the same quiet authority he always carried, but the atmosphere around him felt different now-softer, yet heavier in meaning. His gaze moved forward first, calm and composed, before slowly landing on Ruhani.

The moment his eyes met her, there was a brief pause in his steps, almost as if even he acknowledged the stillness of the moment.

Ruhani sat exactly where she was, frozen for a second, her hands tightening slightly over her lap. The heavy lehenga, the jewelry, the soft glow of lamps-all of it suddenly felt more intense under his presence. Her breath caught subtly as she looked at him, unsure whether to move or stay still.

Sultan took another step inside, closing the door gently behind him. His posture remained straight, but his expression had softened compared to before controlled, yet not as sharp as it usually was. His eyes briefly scanned the room, taking in the decorated space, before returning to her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Only silence existed between them.

A silence that felt different now... not empty, but full of something unspoken.

Ruhani's fingers loosened slightly, her nervousness still there, but now mixed with something she couldn't quite understand. She blinked once, slowly, as if trying to steady herself under his gaze.

And Sultan, standing there in the quiet chamber, simply looked at her-like he had come not just to enter the room, but to complete something that had already begun the moment she was made ready.

Then

Sultan's gaze softened for a brief moment as he looked at her, and instead of speaking further, he shifted his attention to the space beside her.

Slowly, with the same composed calm he carried into every situation, he moved forward.

Ruhani noticed it instantly.

Her breath caught again, but this time she didn't move away or stiffen further. She just watched him carefully, unsure of what he was about to do.

Sultan lowered himself beside her on the edge of the bed not too close to overwhelm her, but close enough that his presence naturally filled the space she had been occupying alone till now.

The slight dip of the mattress made Ruhani aware of how near he was.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The silence that followed wasn't heavy anymore. It felt softer... almost like it had settled into something quieter.

Ruhani's eyes flickered down, then back up again, as if she was still trying to understand this shift. Having him beside her like this was different from when he stood across the room. It made everything feel more real, less distant.

Sultan kept his gaze forward for a moment, not directly looking at her, as if giving her space to adjust to his presence. His posture remained controlled, but there was no distance in his stillness anymore.

Only calm closeness.

The soft glow of the lamps cast gentle shadows across both of them, and the decorations in the room now felt less like ceremony and more like background to something unspoken unfolding between them.

Ruhani's fingers slowly relaxed in her lap, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little without her realizing it.

Sultan finally turned his head slightly toward her not fully, just enough that she could feel it.

And in that quiet moment, nothing needed to be said.

Because his presence itself had shifted the room... from formality into something far more personal, delicate, and unguarded.

Then Sultan moved slightly.

Not abruptly just a calm, careful motion.

He adjusted the edge of her dupatta that had slipped a little during her stillness. His fingers didn't linger unnecessarily; it was a small, natural gesture, like noticing something out of place and correcting it without making it feel awkward.

Ruhani felt the touch of fabric being set properly and looked up instinctively.

Sultan had already withdrawn his hand, his eyes briefly scanning her face as if checking her reaction more than the adjustment itself.

There was no pressure in his expression only quiet attentiveness.

A soft breeze from the slightly open window stirred the lamps' glow, making shadows shift gently across the room. The atmosphere felt almost suspended in time.

Ruhani exhaled slowly, her grip on her lehenga loosening further now. She wasn't as tense as before, though she still didn't fully understand this closeness.

Sultan leaned back slightly on his hand, turning his head toward her again. This time, his gaze stayed longer not intense, but steady in a way that made her feel noticed without being judged.

After a brief pause, he reached out again but not toward her directly this time.

Instead, he gently moved a loose strand of fabric from the edge of her arm, tucking it neatly so it wouldn't bother her. The gesture was small, careful, almost instinctive.

Ruhani's fingers paused mid-movement at her lap.

She didn't pull away.

She just watched him, her confusion slowly mixing with a quiet awareness that he wasn't treating her like something fragile... but like someone whose presence mattered enough to notice.

Sultan's hand fell back to his side.

For a moment, neither of them spoke again.

.

Then

Sultan's gaze shifted to her face again, this time lingering on the veil that still softly framed her features.

For a moment, he didn't move.

It wasn't sudden or impulsive just a quiet pause, as if he was making sure of something only he understood.

Ruhani noticed the shift in his attention and instinctively held still.

Then, very slowly, Sultan lifted his hand.

His movements were controlled and unhurried, giving her enough time to react if she wanted to. But there was no force in it only a calm certainty, like a gentle decision rather than an action being taken.

His fingers reached the edge of the veil.

For a brief second, he paused again, almost as if silently asking without words.

Ruhani didn't step back.

She didn't stop him either.

And that small stillness was enough.

Sultan carefully lifted the veil upward and then aside, revealing her face completely to the soft glow of the lamps.

The fabric moved like a quiet breath through the air before settling gently behind her shoulder.

Ruhani's heart tightened for a second not out of fear, but from the sudden feeling of being seen so directly.

There was no rush in Sultan's expression. No change that felt overwhelming.

Just stillness.

Like he had acknowledged her presence fully now, without anything between them.

His eyes met hers again, steady and composed, but slightly softer than before less distant, more aware.

Ruhani instinctively looked away for a moment, then slowly returned her gaze to him, as if adjusting to the absence of the veil between her and the world.

The room felt quieter than before, even though nothing had changed outside it.

Sultan lowered his hand back to his side, keeping his posture calm.

The moment after the veil fell, the silence in the room changed.

It didn't break-it sharpened.

Ruhani's expression shifted in a fraction of a second.

Before Sultan could fully register it, she moved.

Fast.

Her hand came out from the folds of her outfit, revealing a small hidden knife that caught the lamp light for a brief flash. In a sudden surge, she lunged forward, closing the distance between them in one sharp motion.

The calm atmosphere shattered instantly.

But Sultan reacted just as quickly.

His body moved on instinct-controlled, precise.

He caught her wrist mid-air before the blade could come closer, his grip firm and unyielding. The force of her movement pushed both of them backward, and in the struggle of momentum, they fell onto the bed together.

The knife froze between them in the air, held tightly in her hand-but immobilized by his grip.

Ruhani ended up over him due to the sudden fall, but Sultan immediately shifted his hold, pinning her wrist firmly against the mattress so the blade stayed away from both of them.

His other hand pressed down her arm, steadying the situation rather than escalating it.

For a second, both of them were frozen in that position-breathing uneven, eyes locked, tension filling every inch of space between them.

The room, just moments ago soft and quiet, now felt charged with shock and disbelief.

Sultan's expression had changed completely-no softness now, only sharp alertness and control.

His grip didn't loosen, but it wasn't violent either. It was restraint-measured and deliberate, ensuring the knife couldn't move.

Ruhani's hand trembled slightly under his hold, the blade still trapped between their locked struggle.

The only sound was their breathing and the faint rustle of fabric under the weight of the moment.

"Kitni martaba samjhayein Begum, aisi gustakhi maaf nahi ki jayegi,"

Sultan's voice was a low, melodic threat that sent an involuntary shiver down Ruhani's spine.

In one swift, commanding motion, the power dynamic shifted. Sultan flipped her, pinning her wrists gently but firmly against the pillows as she came to rest beneath him. The sudden proximity was overwhelming, the air between them thick with a tension that Ruhani found both suffocating and impossible to ignore.

"Hume chhodiye! Aapko kya lagta hai, aap aise hume dara loge?"

Ruhani challenged, her voice sharp with defiance even as her breath hitched. She glared up at him, her eyes bright with the hatred she clung to like a shield.

Sultan did not pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his gaze tracing the lines of her face with a terrifyingly calm intensity. The scent of oud and sandalwood enveloped her, a sensory reminder of his constant presence in her life.

"Humari khamoshi ko humari kamzori na samjhein, Ruhani,"

he whispered, his Urdu smooth like velvet.

"Aapki har ek galti hum maaf kr sakte hai par aapki yeh galti humari awam maaf nhi kregi."

He lowered his head, his lips hovering just inches from her skin, never quite making contact but letting the warmth of his breath stir the fine hairs on her neck.

Ruhani felt a traitorous jolt of adrenaline course through her. She despised him for his arrogance and for the way he could make her heart race against her will. As he released her wrists to trace a finger along the line of her jaw, she felt a wave of conflicting emotions anger at his touch, yet a strange, heightened awareness of every point where their bodies nearly met. The silence of the room was broken only by the rhythmic sound of their breathing, a silentsilent battle of wills in the dim light.

Sultan placed his hand around her waist, drawing her closer until there was no space left between them. The sudden proximity caused Ruhani to catch her breath, her heart racing as she felt the intensity of his gaze. She remains still, her senses heightened by the closeness of his presence.

Slowly, Sultan leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as he moved closer to her ear. The air seemed to grow thick with unspoken words. Ruhani closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions flowing through her, her hands gripping the fabric of her clothing as she leaned into the moment.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers for a fleeting second before he spoke. His voice was a low murmur, vibrating with an intensity that made her entire body tingle.

Begum....

And then she respond

"S-Sultan..."

she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Hearing his name, Sultan's hold remained firm but steady. He leaned in closer, his voice soft yet commanding as he whispered near her ear.

"Kahiye, Ruhani..."

The sound of his voice, deep and resonant, sent a shiver through her. She felt a wave of warmth spread through her, she shut her legs feeling something wet between her legs ,her toes curling as she struggled to find the words to respond to the magnetic pull between them.

Sultan come closer, his presence looming over Ruhani in the quiet room. He leaned in, his voice a low whisper that seemed to echo in the stillness.

"Sssshhh... you are making things difficult for us, Ruhani."

Ruhani opened her eyes, meeting his dark, intense gaze. The air between them felt heavy with unspoken tension. She remained still, her breathing uneven as she tried to gauge his next move.

He watched her closely, noting the way she reacted to the gravity of the situation.

The atmosphere remained charged as they lay there, caught in a moment of silent confrontation.

Sultan leaned closer, the quiet of the room amplifying the sound of their breathing.

He began to place soft, gentle kisses along the side of her neck, moving slowly and with care. Ruhani closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her lips as she leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of warmth and affection.

"Begum," Sultan whispered softly against her skin, his voice filled with a rare tenderness.

He continued to trail light kisses toward her shoulder, his movements deliberate and calm. Ruhani reached up, her hand resting gently on his arm, finding comfort in the moment. The tension of the day seemed to melt away as they stay together in the quiet night.

Sultan's hand slid from her waist, moving downward with a slow, possessive intent that made Ruhani's breath hitch.

His grip was firm, marking his territory through the silk of her clothes, while his lips trailed upward to her jawline. He didn't just kiss her; he claimed her skin, his mouth dragging harshly against the sensitive line of her jaw, his teeth grazing her just enough to draw a sharp, broken moan from her lips.

Ruhani's breath caught as the intensity of the moment deepened, the air between them thick with unspoken words and months of conflict. Her hands, which had been resting tentatively on his arms, tightened as she looked into his eyes, searching for a sign of the man she once knew beneath the cold exterior he presented to the world.

The room was silent, save for the sound of their breathing and the distant rustle of the wind against the palace windows.

Sultan leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur that vibrated in the small space between them.

Aap bohot Masoom hai humari jaan...

He spoke of loyalty and the heavy burden of the crown, his words weaving a complex web of duty and desire that Ruhani found increasingly difficult to untangle.

She turned her face away, trying to find her composure amidst the overwhelming rush of emotions. The conflict between her heart and her head was a constant battle, one that felt more exhausting with every passing second in his presence.

And then...

Sultan's grip on her waist turned iron-clad as he pulled her body flush against his, leaving absolutely no air between them. The sudden, forceful collision made Ruhani's breath vanish.

As their lower bodies crashed together, she felt the unmistakable, rigid heat of his hardness pressing directly against her core through the thin layers of their clothes.

Ruhani's eyes widened in shock at the intensity of the moment, a scorching heat flooding her face and turning her cheeks a deep crimson. The sheer proximity made her heart race, the air between them heavy with a tension that felt almost suffocating.

"Sultan....,"

she whispered, her voice trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure despite the overwhelming closeness.

Sultan did not move, his gaze locked onto hers with an unwavering intensity. The silence in the room amplified the sound of their breathing. He looked at her for a long moment, the power dynamic between them shifting as the gravity of the situation settled in.

"Aapko lagta hai ki aap itni aasani se bach sakti hain?"

he murmured, his voice low and steady.

The standoff continued, Ruhani's pulse hammering against her skin. Every second spent in such close contact felt like an eternity, the physical closeness forcing them both to acknowledge the volatile nature of their connection.

Suddenly Ruhani lunged forward and sank her teeth into the sensitive cord of his neck. A sharp, guttural hiss escaped Sultan's throat as the sudden sting of pain flared through him. Reflexively, his hands jerked back, leaving her body instantly as he tried to create distance.

But Ruhani wasn't finished. Like a parasite refusing to let go, she clung to him with a feral intensity. Even as he recoiled, she latched onto his frame, her teeth still clamped firmly onto his skin.

Sultan staggered back, his hands coming up to her shoulders to pry her off, but Ruhani acted on instinct-she wrapped her legs tightly around his, locking him in place so he couldn't retreat.

The struggle was a chaotic tangle of limbs and gasps. Sultan's breathing turned heavy, his muscles coiling under the pressure of her weight and the sharp pain at his neck.

"Begum! Ye kaisi deewangi hai?"

Sultan growled, his voice thick with a mix of shock and burgeoning heat.

Ruhani didn't answer, her muffled growl against his skin the only response.

"Aap hume kath sakte hai parantu hum nhi..... Hisaab barabar kar rhe hai..."

She could feel his heart thundering against her chest, a rhythmic reminder of the man she loathed, yet she refused to break the lock of her legs, determined to leave her mark on him.

Sultan's shock quickly morphed into a dark, simmering roar of authority. The sting on his neck was the final straw. He grabbed her shoulders with a strength that brooked no resistance, his fingers digging into her skin to anchor her.

"Bohot hua Begum!"

he thundered, his voice echoing like a whip crack in the silent room.

With a powerful, coordinated wrench of his body, he broke her hold. He didn't just push her; he controlled her momentum, slamming his weight forward to pin her back against the heavy wooden headboard of the bed.

The impact forced Ruhani to gasp, her legs finally uncoiling from his as she was trapped between the solid wood and his unrelenting frame.

He grabbed both her wrists, hauling them upward and pinning them high above her head with a single, crushing hand. His other hand snaked out, his thumb and forefinger clamping around her jaw, forcing her to look directly into his eyes-which were now dark with a dangerous, predatory fire.

"Hamari khamoshi ko hamari kamzori samajhne ki bhool dobara mat kijiyega,"

he whispered, his voice dripping with a lethal coldness.

"Hum aapko saza nhi dete iska matlab yeh nhi ki aap apni harkato se baaz na aae."

Ruhani's chest heaved, her eyes wide with a mix of lingering fury and the sudden realization that she had pushed the lion too far.

Sultan's movements were swift and undeniable. Before she could regain herself, he hauled her upward, forcing her to sit directly on his lap.

The transition was jarring, and as she settled, the friction of their bodies meeting again sent a jolt through her.

Ruhani gasped as she felt the rigid heat of his hardness pressing firmly against her core once more.

The intensity of the moment was palpable as they remained in such close proximity. Ruhani felt a wave of conflicting emotions, her breath hitching as the reality of the situation set in. Instinctively, she tensed, her muscles locking as she tried to process the overwhelming surge of adrenaline

Sultan's gaze remained fixed on hers, observing the visible tremor in her frame and the way she held herself with such rigid intensity. The silence between them was heavy, charged with a tension that neither seemed ready to break.

The weight of the moment pressed down on her, leaving her heart hammering against her ribs.

Sultan's grip on her waist tightened, ensuring she couldn't move an inch away from his lap. The friction and the relentless pressure of his hardness against her core were becoming too much to bear.

Ruhani felt a sudden, traitorous warmth pooling between her legs, a slickness that made her skin crawl with both shame and a confusing, primal heat. Her breath came in shallow, jagged hitches as she realized her own body was reacting to the man she claimed to despise. The sensation of being wet against him was undeniable, a secret betrayal of her senses that made her face burn with a feverish red.

In a desperate attempt to hide the physical evidence of her reaction, Ruhani clenched her legs together as tightly as she could, her muscles trembling with the effort.

Sultan noticed the shift immediately. He leaned in, his dark eyes tracking the erratic pulse at the base of her throat.

"Kyun hua, Begum? Kya humara ye qurb (closeness) aapko kuch mehsoos kara raha hai?" he whispered, his voice smooth and mocking.

He shifted his weight slightly, causing more friction against her sensitive core, and Ruhani's eyes snapped shut as she let out a choked, muffled sound. The war between her mind's hatred and her body's response was reaching a breaking point.

With her resistance crumbling under the weight of the moment, Ruhani finally stopped fighting.

Her strength seemed to evaporate, and she let her head fall forward, resting it against Sultan's broad, steady chest. The rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat echoed against her ear, a stark contrast to the chaotic storm inside her.

As she settled onto him, she couldn't ignore the heavy, pulsing heat of his hardness pressing firmly against her core. The friction, once a source of defiance, now sent waves of treacherous pleasure through her body. It was a sensation she hated to crave, yet her body betrayed her mind's loathing, responding to his every breath and movement.

Ruhani's eyes fluttered shut, her lashes damp with a mix of frustration and overwhelming sensation. She felt a strange, liquid heat pooling deeper between her legs, making her toes curl against the silk sheets. For a fleeting second, the hatred was drowned out by the sheer, raw intensity of his proximity.

Sultan felt the change in her the way her body finally softened and succumbed to the friction. He let out a low, satisfied hum that vibrated through his chest and into her very bones.

"Ab samajh aaya, Begum?"

he murmured, his voice thick with a dark, triumphant silkiness.

"Aapki nafrat humare lams (touch) ka muqabla nahi kar sakti."

Feeling her body finally surrender,

Sultan's grip shifted from a cold hold to a more possessive, searing touch. He slid his hand from her waist, his palm grazing the curve of her hip with a slow, agonizing friction that made Ruhani's breath hitch. He didn't just hold her; he began to knead the soft skin of her thigh, his fingers digging in just enough to remind her of his strength.

"Aapki khamoshi bohot kuch bayaan kar rahi hai, Ruhani,"

he whispered, his Urdu laced with a dark, velvet triumph.

He leaned down, his lips no longer just pecking but lingering against the pulse point of her neck. He inhaled her scent deeply, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that sent a fresh jolt of electricity through her sensitized nerves.

Ruhani's fingers, which had been limp against his chest, instinctively curled into the fabric of his upper cloth, bunching the expensive material in her fists. She hated the way her heart skipped a beat when he moved, and she hated the way her body felt heavy and liquid beneath his touch.

Every time he shifted his weight, the pressure against her core intensified, pushing her closer to a breaking point she wasn't ready to face.

Sultan's other hand came up, his thumb tracing the swollen line of her lower lip, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were no longer just cold; they were burning with a predatory heat that seemed to consume the last of her defiance.

"Humein dekhiye, Begum... aur bataiye, kya ab bhi aapko hamse ghin aati hai?"

Ruhani's lips parted, her breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She wanted to scream 'yes', but all that came out was a soft, broken sound as he pressed his forehead against hers.

S-Sultan...

Sultan didn't give her the mercy of a kiss. Instead, he chose to prolong the torment of her own body's betrayal. He shifted his hips slightly again, a slow and deliberate grind that forced Ruhani to feel every inch of his rigid heat against her sensitive core.

A strangled cry caught in her throat, her eyes flying open to meet his dark, mocking gaze.

Aahhh....! She moaned

"Jawab dijiye, Ruhani,"

he whispered, his voice a low vibration that seemed to travel directly to the place between her legs where the ache was becoming unbearable.

"Aapka jism toh hamari taraf khicha chala aa raha hai... kya ye bhi nafrat hai?"

He moved his hand from her lip, trailing it down her throat to the swell of her chest, feeling the frantic, erratic thrum of her heart against his palm. He could feel her trembling, her legs clutching almost subconsciously as she sought friction against the very man she claimed to despise.

"Boliye!"

he commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly depth.

"Kahiye ki aapko humari zarurat hai."

Ruhani shook her head, her face flushed with a mix of feverish heat and desperation.

"Nahi... Aap jaise darinde ki hume koi zarurat nhi ...,"

she gasped out, her voice broken and breathless. But even as the words left her lips, she arched her back involuntarily, her body seeking more of the agonizing pleasure his movements were providing.

Sultan's lips curled into a slow, victor's smile. He leaned in until his nose brushed against hers, his breath hot and smelling of mint and tobacco.

"Darinde hi sahi... magar woh darinde jisne aapko khud se zyada be-bas kar diya hai."

He intensified the rhythm of his touch, his hand sliding lower, teasing the edges of her resistance until Ruhani's toes curled and she buried her face in the crook of his neck to hide her shattered expression.

"Itni be-basi... Itni tadap... Kya ye sab bhi us nafrat ka hissa hai jo aap humse karti hain?"

Sultan whispered, his Urdu smooth and sharp like a blade.

Ruhani's breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, her heart hammering against her ribs. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and a tension that seemed to pull at the very fabric of her resolve. She tried to look away, but his presence was overwhelming, pinning her to the moment.

"Sultan... bas... Kariye or jaiye yha se... "

she whispered, her voice trembling. The request for him to move away lacked its usual fire, replaced by a weary exhaustion.

Sultan's expression remained unreadable, his eyes searching hers for a truth she wasn't ready to admit. He didn't move away, but the intensity of his focus shifted from conquest to a cold, calculating observation. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hum.

"Humein dekhiye, Ruhani. Kya aap sach mein ye chahti hain ki hum yahan se tashreef le jayein?"

he asked, the Urdu words carrying a weight that demanded an honest answer.

She bit her lip, the conflict visible in the furrow of her brow. The hatred she clung to felt like a shield that was slowly shattering, leaving her exposed to the complex reality of their bond. She wanted to scream, to push him away, yet she remained frozen under his scrutiny.

"Hum... Hum nahi jante,"

she admitted in a broken whisper, her resistance finally fraying at the edges.

Sultan tightened his hold on her hands for a brief second before slowly releasing them. He straightened up, putting a sliver of distance between them, though the atmosphere remained charged.

"Aap sab janti hai Ruhani ...."

Sultan's gaze lingered on her flushed face for a moment longer, savoring the sight of her complete disarray.

Slowly, he untangled his body from hers, the loss of his heat leaving Ruhani feeling strangely cold and exposed. He stood up, smoothing his clothes with a cold, aristocratic grace that made it seem as if the intense struggle had never happened.

"Aaj ke liye itna sabak kaafi hai, Begum,"

he said, his voice sharp and dismissive.

"Apni is nafrat ko sambhaal kar rakhiye, kyunki yehi aapko humare paas khinch laati hai."

He turned on his heel and walked towards the heavy doors, his footsteps echoing with an agonizing rhythm.

Ruhani remained on the bed, her breath still jagged, her legs trembling as she tried to close them against the lingering sensation of his touch. The moisture between her thighs felt like a brand of her betrayal.

"Aap ek din pachtaoge, Sultan,"

she called out, her Hindi voice cracking with emotion.

Sultan paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder with a dark, knowing smirk.

"Pachtawa kamzoron ka naseeb hota hai, Ruhani. Hum toh sirf fatah (victory) jaante hain."

With a final, heavy thud, the door closed and the lock clicked, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence of the room.

Ruhani lay there, the silence of the room replaced by the loud, rhythmic thrumming of her own pulse. She touched her neck where Sultan's lips had lingered, and instead of the disgust she expected, a strange, warm tingle radiated from the spot.

"Yeh kya ho raha hai hume?" she breathed out, her voice a soft whisper in the dark. "hume toh Krodhit hona chahiye tha... Hume khud se nafrat honi chahiye thi."

But she didn't feel like angry. Instead, a heavy, languid warmth had settled deep in her bones. She shifted her legs, feeling the lingering slickness between her thighs, and for the first time, she didn't recoil in shame. The wetness felt like a testament to a power she hadn't known she possessed-a raw, physical awakening that Sultan had unlocked.

She realized that in those moments of friction and heat, she hadn't felt like a victim. She had felt alive. Every nerve ending was buzzing, every breath felt deeper. The way he had looked at her-with that dark, hungry intensity-made her feel seen in a way that was terrifyingly beautiful.

"Pehli baar... aisa mahsoos kiya hai humne ," she thought, a small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips before she could stop it.

"Unka chhuwan... woh hume bura kyu nahi lga."

She closed her eyes, replaying the sensation of his body against hers. The guilt that usually acted as her shadow was nowhere to be found. She felt empowered by the fact that her body could feel such heights of pleasure, even if it was sparked by a man she was supposed to loathe. Tonight, the lines between hate and desire had blurred into something golden and intoxicating.

Ruhani shifted restlessly on the silk sheets, the fabric feeling almost abrasive against her sensitized skin. The heat Sultan had ignited within her didn't dissipate with his departure; instead, it settled into a low, pulsing thrum that made her back arch instinctively against the mattress.

"Abhi bhi... wahi ehsaas kyun ho raha hai?" she whispered, her voice thick with a newfound longing.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the phantom pressure of his hands on her waist and the friction of his body against her core. Her body felt heavy, aching for a completion she hadn't realized she needed.

She turned onto her side, clutching a pillow tightly between her legs to soothe the persistent, wet heat that continued to pool there, but it was a poor substitute for his crushing weight.

The internal battle was exhausting. Her mind was still trying to grasp the fragments of her hatred, but her body was singing a different, more melodic tune of desire. The sheer intensity of the encounter had drained her more than any argument ever could.

Slowly, the frantic beating of her heart began to steady. The heavy languor in her limbs finally started to outweigh the restlessness of her nerves. With the ghost of his scent-oud and sandalwood-still clinging to her pillows, Ruhani's eyelids grew heavy.

The yearning was still there, a simmering ember in the dark, but her exhaustion finally won, pulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep where the lines between enemy and lover no longer existed.

The room was silent, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of a woman finally at peace.

When Sultan re-entered, the heavy tension of the earlier hours had evaporated, replaced by a profound stillness. He moved like a shadow, his footsteps ghosting over the floor until he stood over her.

Watching her curled into herself, his gaze darkened with a different kind of intensity. His eyes traced the jagged line of her jaw where his mouth had been so harsh, and the dark, blooming marks on her neck-souvenirs from the bathroom encounter that stood out vividly against her pale skin.

Realizing the night air had turned chilly, he reached for the heavy velvet quilt. As he draped it over her, Ruhani's subconscious took over; she sought the warmth instantly, her fingers clutching the fabric. Sultan lay down beside her, not yet ready to surrender to sleep, his eyes fixed on the woman who was his greatest challenge.

Feeling his radiant heat, Ruhani shifted in her sleep. Driven by a primal need for warmth, she moved closer, her arms snaking around his torso and her legs entangling with his in a subconscious lock. She nudged her head into the crook of his chest, seeking the sanctuary of his heartbeat.

Sultan's expression softened into something rare and unrecorded by the world. With fingers that were surprisingly nimble and gentle, he began to undress her jewelry so she could sleep in comfort. He carefully unclipped her heavy nath, then her earrings, and finally the ornate necklace, setting them aside on the nightstand without a single metallic clink.

"Aapki ye masoomiyat hi hamari sabse badi saza kamzori hai, Ruhani,"

he murmured in a low, voice .

He finally wrapped his powerful arms around her, pulling her flush against him. As he held her, the woman who hated him with every waking breath was now anchored to his soul in the quiet of the night.

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the bed. Ruhani stirred, feeling an unfamiliar but deeply comforting weight draped over her. She was cocooned in a warmth so absolute that for a few seconds, she didn't want to open her eyes.

Her face was pressed against something firm and rhythmic; the steady lub-dub of a heart echoed against her ear. As her senses slowly sharpened, she realized she was completely entangled with someone. Her legs were locked between two strong, muscular ones, and her arm was draped possessively over a broad torso.

She blinked her eyes open, and her breath hitched.

The first thing she saw was the dark hair of Sultan's chest, inches from her nose. She looked up slowly, her gaze traveling past his strong collarbone to his face. He was already awake, propped up slightly on one arm, watching her with an intensity that made the morning air feel thick.

"Subah bakhair, Begum,"

he murmured, his voice husky and deep with sleep.

"Umeed hai aapki neend pur-sukoon rahi hogi."

Ruhani's heart did a traitorous somersault. She looked down and noticed her jewelry the nath, the earrings, the necklace all gone, neatly placed on the side table. He had touched her while she slept, not with the fire of the previous night, but with a care that was far more dangerous to her resolve.

"Aap...aap yahan kya kar rahe hai?"

she stammered in Hindi, her voice small. She tried to pull her legs back, but the way they were entwined made it impossible to move without creating more friction.

Sultan didn't let her go. Instead, his arm tightened around her waist, drawing her even closer until her forehead brushed his chin.

"Hum wahi hain jahan humein hona chahiye. Magar aap... aap toh neend mein humein chhodne ko tayyar hi nahi thi."

A deep blush flooded Ruhani's cheeks as she remembered the feeling of yearning from the night before. She looked at his neck and saw the faint mark of her bite from last night and right next to it, her own face reflected in his dark, triumphant eyes.

Ruhani bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs as the reality of their entangled limbs crashed down on her. The lingering warmth of his body felt like a brand she needed to wash off immediately. She scrambled to the edge of the bed, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as she avoided his burning gaze.

"Hume... hume nahaane jaana hai,"

she blurted out , her voice trembling with a mix of flustered panic and residual desire.

She didn't wait for his response, her feet hitting the cold floor as she hurried toward the bathroom, her senses still reeling from the closeness they had shared.

Sultan stayed reclined on the pillows, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face as he watched her hurried retreat. He propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes tracking the graceful hurriedness of her movements.

"Itni jaldi kya hai, Begum? Abhi toh subah ki ibadat shuru hui hai,"

he called out, his voice dripping with a dark, melodic amusement that made Ruhani's skin prickle.

Ruhani didn't look back. She shut the bathroom door with a sharp click, leaning her back against the cold wood. She looked at herself in the mirror; her hair was a mess, her lips were slightly swollen, and the marks on her neck were a vivid purple. Most betraying of all was the soft glow in her eyes that she couldn't suppress.

Inside the room, Sultan leaned back, inhaling the scent of her that still lingered on his skin. He knew that no matter how much water she used, she couldn't wash away the memory of his touch.

Ruhani stepped out of the bathroom, the steam still clinging to her skin and the cold water failing to dampen the frantic racing of her heart. She scanned the room instinctively, her eyes searching for the man who had occupied her bed and her senses just minutes ago.

A frown deepened on her forehead when she found the space where he had reclined empty. The bed was rumpled, a ghost of his presence still lingering in the silk sheets, but Sultan was gone. Instead, the heavy silence of the room was broken by the quiet murmur of voices from the seating area.

Sitting on the ornate velvet couch were Nadia and Farukh, standing ready with her morning attire and jewelry. Beside them sat Kaashi, who was already watching Ruhani with a knowing, observant gaze.

"Humne socha aap thak gayi hongi, isliye humne intezaar karna sahi samjha,"

Kaashi spoke up, her voice neutral but her eyes scanning the prominent marks on Ruhani's neck.

Ruhani instinctively pulled her robe tighter, her fingers brushing against the bruised skin. The absence of Sultan brought a strange, hollow feeling she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Woh... woh kahan hain?"

Ruhani asked softly trying to sound indifferent, though her eyes kept drifting toward the door.

Farukh bowed his head respectfully.

"Sultan diwan-e-khaas mein hain, Begum. Unhone hukm diya hai ki aap taiyaar hokar nashte ke liye tashreef layein."

The frown on Ruhani's face didn't fade. He had left her alone to face the prying eyes of her household, yet his commands still followed her like a shadow.

They moved efficiently, laying out her royal ensemble, but the air in the room was thick with unspoken observations.

As Nadia reached forward to help Ruhani with her hair, her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second too long on the dark, purplish mark near Ruhani's collarbone. She quickly looked away, but the stifled smile on her face was unmistakable.

Farukh, usually the most stoic of the lot, busied herself with the scent bottles, but even she had a certain lightness in her tone.

"Huzoor aaj subah bohot khush-mizaj lag rahe the,"

She remarked casually while arranging the trays.

"Unhone khaas taur par aapka pasandeeda nashta taiyaar karne ka hukm diya hai."

Ruhani's face heated up. She knew exactly why he was 'khush-mizaj'.

Once they stepped back to the outer chamber, Kaashi didn't waste a heartbeat. She walked over to Ruhani, leaning against the dressing table with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She reached out, playfully brushing the damp hair away from Ruhani's neck to reveal the full extent of Sultan's handiwork.

"Oho... toh ye hai 'galti' ka anjaam?"

Kaashi teased, her voice low and full of mirth.

"Lagta hai Sultan ne saari raat sirf 'qanoon' nahi samjhaya, balki kuch zyada hi gehre nishaan chhod diye hain."

"Chup rahiye, Kaashi!"

Ruhani snapped , though her blush gave her away. She tried to cover the mark with a strand of hair, but her hands were trembling slightly.

"Woh... woh sirf badtameezi kar rahe the."

Kaashi laughed softly, picking up the heavy necklace Sultan had removed the night before.

"Badtameezi? Ruhani, aapke chehre ki ye chamak aur ye nishaan kuch aur hi kahani suna rahe hain. Humne pehle kabhi apko itna... 'chamak' nahi dekhi. Lagta hai aapki nafrat ko thoda sukoon mil gaya hai."

Ruhani looked at herself in the mirror. Her lips were still slightly stung, and her eyes had a soft, heavy look that she couldn't hide.

"Woh ek Rakshash hai,"

Ruhani whispered, but the conviction in her voice was wavering.

"Rakshash ho ya na ho,"

Kaashi whispered back, sliding the necklace into place,

"par unhone aapko poori raat apni baahon mein qaid rakha... aur aapne bhagne ki koshish bhi nahi ki."

Ruhani blushed more ......

After sometime....

The walk to the breakfast pavilion felt longer than usual, each step echoing Ruhani's mounting anxiety. As she entered, the low hum of conversation died down, and all eyes turned toward her.

At the head of the table sat Shariya Begum, the formidable Badi Ammijaan, whose sharp eyes seemed to read every secret. Beside her was Mahima Begum, Sultan's mother, who offered a gentle but curious smile. Sultan's brothers, Zayan and Haider, were busy in a light-hearted argument that stopped the moment Ruhani appeared, while Haya sat nearby, distracted by her daughter's playful antics.

And then there was Nafisa. Her eyes were narrowed, tracking Ruhani's every move with a cold, piercing jealousy that made Ruhani's skin crawl.

"Subah bakhair, Begum. Humne socha shayad aap aaj araam karna pasand karengi,"

Shariya Begum spoke, her voice formal and laden with a subtle undertone that made Ruhani's pulse jump.

Ruhani felt the weight of their collective gaze. Despite her attempt to hide the marks with her dupatta, she felt exposed. She looked toward the head of the table and saw Sultan.

He was leaning back, a cup of tea in his hand, watching her with a calm, proprietary look that said he knew exactly how nervous she was.

"Aaiye, Ruhani. Aapke intezaar mein nashta thanda ho raha hai,"

Sultan said, his voice smooth and commanding.

As she moved to take her seat, Nafisa let out a sharp, audible sniff.

"Lagta hai kal ki raat bohot masroof rahi, Begum Sahiba. Aapki aankhon mein abhi bhi neend ka asar hai,"

Nafisa remarked, her tone dripping with fake concern.

Ruhani's grip tightened on her dupatta. The table went silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Sultan didn't even look up from his tea, but the temperature at the table seemed to drop instantly. The clink of his spoon against the china sounded like a warning bell.

"Nafisa,"

Sultan spoke, his Urdu tone sharp and laced with a lethal coldness that silenced the entire room.

"Hamari Begum ki masroofiyat ya unki neend ke mutalliq sawaal karne ki ijazat aapko kisne di?"

Nafisa's smug expression vanished, replaced by a pale mask of fear. She lowered her gaze, her fingers trembling against her napkin.

"Maaf kijiye, Sultan... Humara woh matlab nahi tha..."

"Apne matlab ko apne tak hi mehdoos rakhein toh behtar hoga,"

Sultan interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibration.

"Is darbar aur is dastarkhwan par, Ruhani ki izzat wahi hai jo hamari hai. Un par uthi har ungli, hamari tauheen (insult) tasavvur ki jayegi. Dobara aisi gustakhi na ho."

The silence at the table was deafening.

Badi Ammijaan exchanged a look with Mahima Begum, while Zayan and Haider suddenly found their breakfast very interesting. Sultan then turned his gaze toward Ruhani, his eyes softening just a fraction, though the possessive fire still burned within them.

"Baithiye, Ruhani,"

he said, his voice now a smooth, commanding velvet.

Ruhani sat down, her heart racing. She felt Nafisa's burning resentment from across the table, but the way Sultan had publicly claimed her honor made a strange, warm pride swell in her chest-one that vied with her lingering hatred.

As she reached for a piece of bread, her dupatta slipped slightly, revealing the dark mark on her neck to the table. Haya let out a small, muffled gasp of realization, and Sultan's smirk returned, slow and triumphant.

Sensing the heavy atmosphere, Badi Ammijaan (Shariya Begum) decided to take the reins of the conversation. She set her cup down with a dignified click and looked toward Sultan with a sharp, yet regal gaze.

"Sultan, humare makhsoos tohfaye (special gifts) aur jadeed asleha (modern weapons) ki khep (consignment) aaj sarhad par pahunch rahi hai,"

Shariya Begum spoke, her voice formal and commanding.

"Farishtha-e-khabar ne ittela di hai ki sab intezamaat mukammal hain."

Sultan's expression shifted instantly from a predatory smirk to one of professional focus. He let go of Ruhani's hand-much to her internal relief-and straightened his posture.

"Ji Badi Ammijaan, humein khabar mili hai. Haider aur Zayan aaj sham tak unka muayna (inspection) kar lenge,"

Sultan replied, his voice deep and authoritative.

Haider nodded eagerly.

"Ji Bhaijaan, humne ghode taiyaar karwa liye hain. Hum nashte ke foran baad nikal jayenge."

The table talk quickly turned into a discussion about trade routes, security, and palace administration. Ruhani took this opportunity to finally breathe. The spotlight was off her, and she could eat in peace, though she felt Nafisa's hateful glare burning into the side of her face.

Haya leaned over toward Ruhani, whispering softly, "Ruhani, kya aap humare saath library chalengi?

Hume kuch purani kitabein dekhni hain, aur wahan sukoon bhi hoga."

Ruhani appreciated the offer; the library was the only place where she can ignore Sultan during the day. It was a sanctuary.

As the men got up to leave for their duties, Sultan lingered for a second. He leaned down near Ruhani's ear, his scent once again clouding her senses.

"Library mein zyada waqt mat guzariyega, Begum. Humein sham ki mehfil mein aapka intezaar rahega,"

he whispered in a low, before walking away with his brothers.

The grand corridors slowly grew quieter as everyone dispersed toward their duties, leaving behind a fading echo of footsteps in the vast palace. Ruhani lingered for a brief moment, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table, her thoughts still tangled in everything that had happened. The weight of the morning lingered within her-unspoken words, watchful gazes, and emotions she herself didn't fully understand. Just then,

Haya's soft voice gently pulled her back to the present.

"Ruhani... chaliye?"

(Ruhani... shall we go?)

Ruhani blinked, as if returning from far away, and gave a small nod before quietly following her. As they walked through the long corridors and entered the royal library, Ruhani paused at the entrance. The atmosphere shifted instantly. It was calm... deeply calm. Tall shelves filled with ancient books and scrolls surrounded them, while soft sunlight filtered through carved windows, casting delicate patterns on the marble floor. A faint scent of sandalwood and old paper lingered in the air, creating a peaceful stillness. Ruhani stepped inside slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against the books as she whispered,

"Yeh jagah... kitni shaant hai..."

(This place... is so peaceful...)

Haya, watching her carefully, replied in a composed tone,

"Haan... yeh mahal ke shor se door ek sukoon deta hai."

(Yes... away from the noise of the palace, it gives a sense of peace.)

For a moment, silence settled comfortably between them. Then Haya spoke again, her voice softer this time,

"Ruhani..."

(Ruhani...)

Ruhani turned toward her, and Haya asked gently,

"Aap theek hain?"

(Are you alright?)

Ruhani paused, her fingers tightening slightly around her dupatta before she replied hesitantly,

"Hum... theek hain..."

(I... am fine...)

Though her voice didn't fully carry certainty. Haya didn't question her further. Instead, she said calmly,

"Har cheez ek din mein samajh nahi aati, Ruhani... kabhi kabhi waqt dena padta hai... khud ko bhi... aur doosron ko bhi..."

(Not everything is understood in a single day, Ruhani... sometimes you have to give time... to yourself and to others as well.)

Ruhani listened quietly, still unsure but attentive. Haya then continued,

"Yeh mahal... yeh riyasat... yeh log... sab kuch naya hai aapke liye. Aur Sultan... woh sabse zyada."

(This palace... this kingdom... these people... everything is new for you. And Sultan... he is the most unfamiliar of all.)

Ruhani's eyes widened slightly, and she quickly looked away, trying to hide her reaction.

"Humein unse koi matlab nahi..."

(I have nothing to do with him...)

she said, though her voice lacked firmness. Haya noticed but didn't argue. Instead, she gently changed the topic,

"Chaliye... hum aapko kuch dikhate hain."

(Come... let me show you something.)

She led Ruhani deeper into the library and stopped near a section filled with Rajputana history. Picking up a book, she placed it in Ruhani's hands and said softly,

"Yeh aapke logon ki kahaniyan hain... shaurya... maryada... aur zidd ki kahaniyan..."

(These are the stories of your people... tales of bravery, honor, and determination.)

Ruhani looked down at the book, her fingers tracing its cover slowly. Something familiar stirred within her-something grounding.

A small, genuine smile appeared on her lips, the first real one since morning. Haya noticed it but chose to remain silent, understanding that in this quiet moment, Ruhani wasn't just reading a book-she was reconnecting with herself.

Time passed quietly in the library, the golden sunlight slowly shifting across the marble floor as the day moved ahead. Ruhani sat near a low seating area, a book open in her hands, though her eyes were no longer truly reading her thoughts had drifted far away. After a while, she gently closed the book, the soft sound echoing in the peaceful silence. She looked ahead for a moment, then toward Haya, as if gathering courage to speak.

"Haya..."

(Haya...)

Haya immediately lifted her gaze, attentive and calm.

"Ji, Ruhani?"

(Yes, Ruhani?)

Ruhani adjusted her dupatta slightly, her fingers fidgeting with its edge, showing her hesitation.

"Hum... thodi der ke liye bahar ja sakte hain?"

(Can I... go outside for a while?)

Haya didn't reply instantly. She observed Ruhani for a brief moment, thoughtful rather than strict.

"Bahar...? Aap mahal ke baahar jaana chahti hain... ya bagh mein?"

(Outside? Do you want to go beyond the palace... or just in the garden?)

Ruhani paused, then answered honestly, her curiosity clear in her eyes.

"Humein... mahal ke baahar dekhna hai... yahan ke log... yeh jagah..."

(I want to see outside the palace... the people here... this place...)

Haya straightened slightly, her expression turning more regal yet still gentle.

"Ruhani... yeh riyasat hai... aur aap ab iski Sultana hain. Aapka har qadam... sirf aapka nahi hota."

(Ruhani... this is a kingdom... and you are now its queen. Every step you take is not just yours alone.)

Ruhani's face fell slightly at that, but before her disappointment could settle, Haya continued in a softer tone.

"Lekin... iska matlab yeh nahi ke aap bandhan mein hain."

(But... that does not mean you are bound or restricted.)

Ruhani looked up again, a small hope returning to her expression.

"Agar aap bahar jaana chahti hain... to zaroor ja sakti hain... magar hifazat ke saath."

(If you wish to go outside... you certainly can... but with protection.)

Ruhani nodded quickly, a hint of excitement appearing.

"Ji..."

(Yes...)

Haya turned gracefully, already thinking ahead.

"Hum intezaam karwa dete hain... kuch sipahi saath honge... aur aap akeli nahi jayengi."

(I will arrange it... some guards will accompany you... and you will not go alone.)

Ruhani made a small, playful face, muttering softly under her breath,

"Humein mela dekhna hai ya yudh..."

(Am I going to a fair or a battlefield...)

Haya heard it and for the first time, a soft laugh escaped her. She turned back slightly, a faint smile on her lips.

"Ruhani... aap waise hi jayengi... jaise ek Sultana jaati hai."

(Ruhani... you will go the way a queen goes.)

Ruhani had barely heard Haya's words when she suddenly spoke, her tone no longer hesitant but filled with a quiet determination. She shook her head slightly, her eyes steady as she said,

"Hume Sultana ban kar nahi jaana... balki aam vyakti ban kar jayenge. Isse log hume pehchaan nahi paayenge... aur hum acche se yahan ki cheezein samajh paayenge."

(I don't want to go as a queen... I want to go like a common person. This way, people won't recognize me, and I'll be able to understand this place better.)

Her words lingered in the stillness of the library. Haya didn't reply immediately. Instead, she observed Ruhani carefully her innocence, her curiosity, and the unexpected firmness in her voice. After a brief pause, Haya finally spoke, her tone calm yet carrying a quiet warning,

"Ruhani... bahar ki duniya utni mehfooz nahi hoti jitni yeh mahal hai. Wahan har nazar meherbaan nahi hoti... aur har insaan wafadaar bhi nahi hota."

(Ruhani... the world outside isn't as safe as this palace. Not every gaze is kind... and not every person is loyal.)

But Ruhani didn't let her finish. She stepped a little closer, her voice softer yet unwavering,

"Hum jaante hain, Shahzadi... parantu sipahiyon ke saath jaana usse zyada khatra hai. Sabko pata chal jayega humare baare mein... phir hum kuch dekh bhi nahi paayenge."

(I understand, Princess... but going with soldiers is even more dangerous. Everyone will find out about us... and then I won't be able to truly see anything.)

Haya fell silent again. Her gaze shifted away for a moment as she thought deeply, weighing responsibility against Ruhani's reasoning. The quiet stretched between them until she finally let out a slow breath and turned back toward her, her expression softer now.

"Aapki baat mein wazan hai... lekin yeh faisla aasaan nahi hai, Ruhani."

(There is truth in what you're saying... but this decision is not an easy one, Ruhani.)

Ruhani didn't interrupt this time. She simply waited.

After a few more seconds, Haya made her decision. Her voice came steady, yet gentle,

"Theek hai... agar aap aam libaas mein jaana chahti hain, toh hum ijazat dete hain."

(Alright... if you wish to go in simple attire, then I allow it.)

A small spark of happiness appeared in Ruhani's eyes, but before she could say anything, Haya added firmly,

"Magar ek shart par..."

(But on one condition...)

Ruhani blinked slightly,

"Kya?"

Haya stepped closer, her gaze calm but unyielding,

"Hum bhi aapke saath chalenge."

(I will go with you.)

She continued in the same composed tone,

"Aap akeli nahi jayengi, Ruhani. Agar aap apni pehchaan chhupana chahti hain... toh hum bhi aapke saath ussi roop mein jayenge."

(You will not go alone, Ruhani. If you wish to hide your identity... then I will go with you in the same way.)

Ruhani looked at her for a moment, surprised... then slowly nodded, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Theek hai..."

(Alright...)

And in that quiet agreement, something shifted between them-not authority, not distance... but a silent understanding, as if for the first time, Ruhani wasn't alone in this unfamiliar world.

The room fell into a softer silence after Haya's words. Ruhani, still standing close, seemed calmer now-but there was a hint of urgency behind her eyes.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice dropping slightly, as if the walls themselves might listen.

"Ek baat aur... Haya..."

Haya turned her gaze toward her, attentive.

Ruhani took a small breath.

"Yeh baat... Sultan ko nahi batani chahiye."

For a second, the air shifted.

The room grew quiet after Ruhani's request, the weight of her words settling between them.

Haya's expression shifted instantly-concern deepening in her eyes.

She spoke, her tone firmer now, layered with Urdu elegance:

"Ruhani... yeh baat sahi nahi hai. Sultan ko is safar ka ilm hona chahiye. Woh aapki hifazat ki zimmedari rakhte hain."

(Ruhani... this is not right. Sultan should know about this journey. He is responsible for your safety.)

Ruhani gently shook her head, her voice soft but urgent.

"Hum jaante hain... lekin agar unhe abhi pata chal gaya, toh woh hume jaane hi nahi denge."

Haya exhaled slowly, her gaze holding a mixture of reason and worry.

"Ruhani, yeh raaz rakhna theek nahi hai. Agar Sultan ko baad mein pata chala toh woh naraaz bhi ho sakte hain... aur yeh baat behtar tareeqe se sambhali ja sakti hai."

(Translation: Ruhani, keeping this secret is not right. If Sultan finds out later, he may be angry... and this situation could be handled in a better way.)

But Ruhani stepped closer, her voice dropping into a gentle plea.

"Bas ek baar... Haya. Hum sirf duniya ko dekhna chahte hain, samajhna chahte hain... bina kisi rok-tok ke."

Haya looked at her for a long moment. She was clearly resisting, trying to hold onto logic and responsibility.

"Lekin Ruhani..." she began again, more softly now, "agar kuch bhi ghalat ho gaya toh..."

(But Ruhani... if anything goes wrong...)

Before she could finish, Ruhani tilted her head slightly, her eyes widening with innocent hope. Her expression softened completely-like she was asking for something far too simple to refuse.

The sight broke Haya's resistance for a moment.

A faint, helpless smile appeared on Haya's lips as she shook her head lightly.

"Yeh aapki sabse khaas ada hai... hume hara dena bina kisi daleel ke."

(Translation: This is your most special skill... defeating us without any argument.)

After a pause, she finally sighed.

"Theek hai... hum Sultan ko kuch nahi batayenge. Lekin yaad rakhiye, Ruhani... yeh faisla hum sab ke liye asaan nahi hoga."

(Translation: Alright... I will not tell Sultan anything. But remember, Ruhani... this decision will not be easy for all of us.)

Ruhani's face brightened instantly, relief softening her features.

"Shukriya, Haya."

Haya only nodded, still half-convinced of her own surrender, while Ruhani stood there quietly-feeling, for the first time, a small door opening toward the world outside the palace walls.

The conversation in the library had quietly ended,

but what none of them noticed... was that someone had overheard fragments of it from the partially open corridor outside.

A shadow lingered for a moment-silent, unreadable-before slowly fading away.

.........................................................................

Guys, I was really tired so I couldn't translate the whole thing... it's around 18,000 words. Please show some love 💛

Tell me, tell me... are you feeling butterflies in your stomach because of Sultan? 💅🏻

Silent readers, please vote and drop a heart in the comment section ❤️

And my other readers, tell me in the comments your opinion and your favorite scene 😌