Chapter 1

It was her third visit to India.

Matsyaa was three when her parents took her to Jaipur for the first time to introduce her to the family. The second time, she was eleven and her grandfather had passed away. This time, she was a twenty years old, gorgeous girl—working towards her degree in Archeology—and flying to see her ailing uncle. 

Her father’s younger brother, Indian Industrialist Ashish Rathore, was severely ill. He was due for a heart surgery and his chances of survival were slim. Her father had departed earlier to make sure his brother received the best medical treatment and she was leaving today with her mother, but the weather was dull just like her mood and their flight was delayed. 

Even though she was constantly in touch with her cousins, she just wanted to get there as soon as possible because it might be the last time she would get to see her uncle. The latest news said that he had gone into surgery and they would have to wait for twelve hours to know his exact condition. This was a long period of wait. 

“Matsyaa, are you ready? The car’s waiting. We can leave now.” Her mother peeked into the room and she nodded, bending to lace her runners. “Okay, please ask George to put my luggage in the car. I am coming in a minute.”

“Sure. I will be waiting for you.” Before Matsyaa could look up and say something, her mother closed the door and went away. She huffed a sigh and looked around one last time. George put her luggage in the trunk as she settled beside her mother on the backseat. She looked upwards and frowned at the cloudy sky.

“Dad knows we are leaving right now?” She asked as the car began to move and she checked the things she carried in her hands. 

Candies. Gloves. Bubblegum. Ear planes. Wipes…

“Of course, he took care of everything. Someone will be there to welcome us.” Her mother replied. Matsyaa scowled to herself, upon not finding the ear pods and kept rummaging her purse. “Yes, but did you tell him just now?”

“His phone was unreachable. I will text him before we board the plane. Don’t worry.” The nonchalant reply had her head snapping to her mother and she raised an eyebrow. She forgot what she had to say when she looked at her mother’s attire. 

Lilac pantsuit and sensible white moccasins made Mrs. Gauri Rathore look elegant and classy. She didn't look like she was going to board a plane. That attire fitted precisely to a boardroom meeting or a cocktail event. So, when Matsyaa glanced down at her own attire, she felt a lot different in her crop top and skinny jeans. 

She pushed out a breath, thankful that she was not expected to follow the elegance her mother possessed and continued to search for her life saver. “Okay, but don’t forget to contact him before getting on the plane. Arush told me that everyone is in the hospital, so maybe someone from the staff will come, or maybe we’ll have to wait if you don’t…”

“Oh my God, I will inform your dad, your highness. Now please, shut up.” Gauri groaned in annoyance and Matsyaa rolled her eyes, killing a smirk. She breathed in relief once found the golden speakers and plugged in the music. As the song began to play in her ears, she closed her eyes and took a walk down the memory lane. 

She didn’t spend a lot of time with her uncle but she had fond memories of him. He sent her a lot of gifts, surprise-visited her, took her to Disneyland and spoiled her for the best. It drew a smile on her face, but it wasn’t for long. She remembered the panic on her father’s face when he got the news. He had collapsed on the chair. If not her mother was in the room, he might have gone to the hospital himself, so she hoped that her father was fine. She just couldn’t wait to see him. 

It was eight in the night by the time they reached India after a prolonged journey of fourteen hours. Matsyaa was completely worn out. She somehow collected her luggage and staggered to the exit when they didn’t see anyone familiar around. Hot gust of wind slapped her chill prone, sensitive skin and she rubbed the heat off, wrapping arms around her torso. “God, it's burning here.”

“I know, right! It gets so painful in the summer. I told your grandfather to change the family house, but no… Anyway, I am calling your dad.” Gauri took out the phone. She had just put the phone on her ear and a polished Mercedes Benz stopped in front of them. A suited man stepped out, hiding his eyes behind shades as he proceeded to them. 

"Mrs. Rathore and Miss. Rathore, welcome to India!" He greeted them with a nod, standing a foot away and taking out something from his breast pocket. It was an ID card. He shoved it on their face. "Dilip Singh here. I am assigned to receive you to Rathore Mansion safely. This way, please!" He waved a hand towards the waiting car and Matsyaa raised an eyebrow, "Are you from the Rathore security?”

"Yes, ma'am." The man nodded. Gauri eyed her in dismay and Matsyaa sighed; yeah, it was a foolish question. The man in all his glory with black suit and tie, pointed shoes and bulky physique looked like he was straight from a cop corp. How could she haven't noticed his professional aura? 

"Okay. Um, there's our luggage." She pointed at the three suitcases and Dilip got them quickly stuffed in the car while he himself opened the door for the ladies and ushered the driver to move, settling on the passenger seat. Matsyaa breathed in relief as the cold air caressed her skin and relaxed her throbbing head. She pressed her nose on the windowpane, watching the running picturesque. The houses were transforming into greenery as they penetrated the outskirts of Jaipur. 

Her family house was built in a faraway location where only a few villas were around—all belonged to the elite class. It was marvelous, situated on a hilly top and canopied around with long, lush trees. The iron-wrought gates of ‘Rathore House’ opened up, displaying a meandering driveway up to the creamy, white mansion. The Mercedes then rounded a path around the fountain before smoothing down to a stop.

Dilip climbed out first to open the door for Gauri and then for Matsyaa. She got down and stretched her limbs out, inhaling a deep, belonging breath. She smelt Rajasthan. Full of sand, full of glitter, and full of life. 

This was her home.

If things went well, she planned to prolong her stay and tour the forts around. She had heard of the rich, cultural heritage of her hometown. It was a perfect opportunity to have some first hand experience. She also made a mental note to visit some of the excavation sites and she would ask her cousins to….

"Matsyaa!" 

"Yes, mom," She veered to Gauri and her forehead formed crease lines, noticing the blanched face of her mother. "What's wrong?" 

“Ash-Ashish is no more.”

***

“How the hell did this happen?” Ranvijay roared on his way to Shekhar’s bedroom. As he entered, the sight of his cousin sitting next to his comatose wife on the bed, holding her hand was a punch in the gut for him. The doctor was examining her pulse and everyone was patiently waiting for him to say something. 

Ranvijay went to stand quietly in a corner, hopefully trying to be invisible to others. This was his fault. It happened because he wasn’t vigilant enough. The wounded princess was one of his many failures tonight. He had miscalculated everything and that led to the accident. If only he wasn’t so…

“Princess is fine.” The doctor’s voice penetrated the thick fog of remorse in his mind and he blinked into the moment. “She is just a little shocked. Nothing to be worried about. I have given her the painkiller. She will be up in an hour.”

“Thanks, doctor.” Shekhar sighed in relief and caressed his wife’s damp forehead. Ranvijay eyed his guard to escort the doctor out. The doctor gave him a customary nod and left with the guard. He was also about to make a neat escape but Shekhar stopped him, “Brother! I want to talk to you.”

“Not now. Be with your wife. She needs you here.” Ranvijay said over his shoulder, and honestly, he wasn’t ready for this conversation. What was he supposed to tell Shekhar? That Deepika got injured as a collateral damage? 

“But…” 

“Ranvijay is right.” Kesar impeded her son and stood up, adjusting the veil on her shoulder. “It is late. You should rest now. Everything else can wait.”

Shekhar looked like he was about to argue but closed his mouth when Ranvijay blinked at him in reassurance that they would definitely talk. He nodded reluctantly and gazed at his sleeping wife. Ranvijay got out of the room and met his security chief, “I want all the details, Bhushan. I want to know everything.”

“We’ve caught the men. Harish and others are getting the truth out of them.” Bhushan replied and he nodded, knowing exactly how they took out the truth from their suspects. He stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned. “Where’s Uncle and Veer?”

“They are meeting with the PR head, taking care of how to stop the news from getting in the public eye.”

A sigh escaped his lips. “Alright. I'll see you in the security room shortly.” 

Before Bhushan could stop him and give another bad news, he moved away from there without any delay. His head was growing heavier with the headache. How badly did he want to rest tonight? But, after this, he knew he had a long night ahead. 

His legs automatically migrated to the porch, recognizing the urgency to smoke. As he made his way to the open area, the guards stationed there bowed their heads. He stopped and moved his eyes around, finding everyone surrendering to his presence. He saw genuine respect and dedication in their slouched stance. Respect was something that was given to him without asking and with that, came heavy responsibilities. 

“Leave me alone,” He said in the air as he rested hands on the broad ledge, looking at his land. Pride filled his chest as he pored over the twinkling and colorful landscape. This was his home. His heritage. His Karmabhoomi. He was supposed to protect them. And, he was failing at that. Quite miserably, he acknowledged with bitterness.

Finding the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, he lit a bead and put it between his lips as he continued to inspect the bright space. The palace was sparkling in its beauty, competing with the glamor of Princess Deepika. Majestic lighting, fine tapestry and beautiful rangolis were making it look like the new bride. Every corner of Amergarh was celebrating the welcome of the newly married couple.

Prince Shekhar Pratap Raghuvanshi got married at Pune fort and the reception was at their homeland to display the exclusivity of their hospitality. Royals across India and all over the world were invited to be a part of this grand occasion. The event was proceeding to a peaceful ending when the accident happened. They were lucky to save the prestige and pride of Amergarh, but Princess Deepika got harmed. 

Though no one dared to point it out, Ranvijay knew who was behind this. 

He gritted his jaw and exhaled a cloud of smoke, holding the cigarette between his fingers. This attack was meant for him. He never confessed but he knew his coronation ceremony would start the bloodbath. They wouldn't sit silent. Raghvendra wouldn’t take anything less than his death. He closed his eyes and focused on the distant folk songs ringing in the air. 

It didn’t matter how much both the clans tried to act civil and courteous. Only the rage and enmity was unleashed when they interacted. It caused blood and death, and horrible memories. That’s why he never wanted to become the crown prince, but he was there and he had to own this responsibility. 

This has to end. He thought, butting the cigarette. His phone buzzed and he took the call. His jaw clenched as he got the answer he was expecting. A fire kindled in his mysteriously cold eyes and he put his phone back in his pocket. It was enough being oblivious about everything. If Raghvendra wanted to learn the lesson the hard way, so be it. He was more than ready to teach him one. 

“Hukum,” Bhushan greeted him as he entered the dungeon and strode to the cell. Bhushan was telling him about how the men refused to answer. Each passing second was increasing his rage and he pushed open the door, making the kept men flinch at the sight of him. He loaded his gun and pointed it at them. “I will give you three seconds to tell me the name of your infiltrator.” 

“One!” He watched the men trembling as he curled his finger on the trigger. “Two!” He pulled the trigger and gave them a last chance to speak. “Three!” 

When none spoke, he shot four of them one by one with a headshot and glared at their lifeless bodies on the ground. Their blood splattered across the wall and was flowing a way to his boots. The sight of the blood made his stomach churn and he clenched his fists to control his anger. 

“Throw them out of our territory. I want their owner to learn how I treat those who hurt my family!" He gritted out, his eyes burning at those dead bodies but his mind only planning to destroy his enemies.