The soft crackle of ghee lamps filled the palace corridors as evening descended gently over the marble walls. Outside, the wind was playfully tugging at the palace curtains, but inside, warmth bubbled like sweet kheer.
The grand inner courtyard was transformed for the ladies' celebration post-puja. Mats of silk, large plush cushions in pastel tones, silver platters of dry fruits and sweets, and copper jugs of rose sherbet surrounded them like a circle of serenity. Only the women were allowed tonight—and oh, how they cherished this rare night of laughter, secrets, and stories without the men hovering around.
Dadi sa sat regally on a bolster, her white hair in a neat bun, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "This reminds me of my time. Oh, the stories I could tell you girls… but you might just faint from scandal!"
Rajeshwari chuckled softly, resting her chin on her hand. "Then tell us, Dadi. We're not faint-hearted," she said playfully.
Anika clapped like an excited child. "Yes, Dadi sa, please! If you don't, I'll make up my own scandal and say it was yours."
Dadi sa dramatically gasped. "You shameless girl!" she scolded with a mock glare before laughing. "Alright then…"
She leaned forward, the lamplight throwing shadows that danced on her wrinkled but graceful face. "Your grandfather, the king, used to sneak into the kitchens every night just to see me during my time as the palace cook's assistant. He said the jalebis tasted sweeter when I touched the batter. Silly old man."
Rajeshwari smiled, a distant softness brushing her features. "I never knew that…"
Dadi nodded proudly. "We were the real rebels. Back then, love was whispered—not declared like you young people do now."
Anika snorted. "Ranvijay bhaiya would faint if Myra even whispered love in his ear."
Myra, who had been sitting quietly with a plate of laddoos in her lap, almost choked on her bite. "Wh-what? No—I mean—I didn't—I wasn't—"
All three women turned toward her, smirking.
"Oh ho, look at her cheeks," Rajeshwari teased gently. "Just his name and you're blushing like it's your wedding night already."
Myra tried to hide her red face behind her pallu. "I'm not blushing," she mumbled.
Anika leaned closer with a sly grin. "But he's handsome, isn't he? A little scary… a little intense… but those eyes?" She widened hers dramatically.
Myra's ears turned scarlet. "I… I don't think about him that way," she muttered, fidgeting with the corner of her dupatta.
Dadi chuckled. "When you start stammering like this, it always means something."
Rajeshwari reached out, gently tucking a loose strand behind Myra's ear. "You're already becoming the heartbeat of this palace, dear. Not just mine, but his too. Even if he doesn't say it aloud."
The courtyard fell silent for a heartbeat too long.
Myra lowered her gaze, not denying it. A flutter she didn't understand was making her chest warm.
Anika, sensing the moment becoming too serious, jumped up dramatically. "Alright! Enough of all this mushy stuff. I declare it's time for the 'truth or dare' round."
Dadi lifted a brow. "Is that the new version of 'Antakshari'?"
"No, Dadi sa," Anika grinned wickedly. "It's the new way to extract secrets."
Rajeshwari raised her hands in mock surrender. "I am too old for dares. Only truths."
Anika smirked. "Perfect. First question… maa, who was your first kiss?"
"My husband," Rajeshwari answered smoothly, without blinking.
"Liar," Dadi muttered under her breath, making them all burst into laughter.
Myra's laughter was shy but genuine, her eyes sparkling. For the first time in days, the palace echoed with the sound of shared womanhood—tender, teasing, and true.
From a high balcony where the shadows hugged the corners, someone watched quietly—unseen.
Ranvijay stood, hands in his pockets, looking down at the scene. His eyes didn't move from Myra. He watched how her face lit up in the lamp's warmth, how her laugh tilted her head slightly back, how she nervously played with her fingers whenever they mentioned his name.
He smiled faintly. He hadn't heard that laugh in days.
And he would give up his crown if it meant keeping that smile safe.
The night was growing deeper, stars spilling across the velvet sky like scattered diamonds. Inside the palace courtyard, warmth still lingered like rose perfume. The women of the royal family—draped in soft sarees and lehengas—lounged on plush cushions, hair loose, hearts lighter than they had been in days.
The soft jingles of Myra's anklets mixed with Anika's bubbling laughter as they played truth or dare over a lazy sprawl of laddoos and pethas.
"I dare you," Anika pointed at Myra dramatically, "to walk from this end of the courtyard to that end while pretending to be a queen from a fantasy movie."
Myra's eyes widened. "What does that even mean?"
"Like… pretend you're the queen of moonlight or something," Anika flailed her arms. "Be elegant. Be terrifying. Own the floor, Queen Myra!"
Myra, biting her lip and stifling laughter, stood up and gathered her pallu like a cloak, head held high, and said in a low majestic voice, "Bring forth the stars, for I shall dine under nothing less."
Rajeshwari burst out laughing. "Oh my god. You girls…"
Dadi sa wiped a tear of laughter. "This one has hidden fire. Don't let her shy face fool you."
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the palace—uninvited and utterly restless—Ranvijay leaned against the window sill in the study room, arms folded, face unreadable.
"They're laughing again," Shiv said, his ear pressed near the crack of a shut door down the corridor. "I swear I just heard Dadi sa laugh like a teenager."
Ranvijay raised a brow, amused. "You're enjoying this far too much."
Shiv looked over his shoulder. "Aren't you even a little curious what's happening in there?"
"They're talking about embroidery and haldi recipes. I'm fine," Ranvijay lied, his jaw tightening slightly.
Shiv smirked, not buying it.
But deep inside, Shiv had his own reason for lingering near the ladies' wing. His curiosity wasn't entirely about their fun. No one knew—especially not Ranvijay—that Shiv's eyes sometimes lingered longer on Anika than they should. That her laughter pulled something in him that he couldn't name.
Still, Shiv played it cool. "I mean… this is the first time we've been banned from an entire wing of the palace. They even locked the main courtyard gate!"
Ranvijay narrowed his eyes. "Don't do anything stupid."
"I'm not," Shiv said a bit too quickly. "Just… observing."
Back in the courtyard, Anika tossed her long braid over her shoulder. "Now Myra, you pick someone."
Myra, still red from her queen-walk, looked at Dadi sa shyly. "Truth or dare?"
Dadi laughed, "Dare. And don't go easy on me, girl."
Myra's eyes twinkled mischievously. "I dare you… to give a love tip to every single one of us."
Anika groaned. "Oh no."
Rajeshwari giggled. "I'm ready. I need tips."
Dadi sat up with flair. "Alright, listen carefully, my lovelies…"
She pointed at Anika. "You… stop running away from what makes your heart skip. You act like a lioness, but I've seen you go quiet when a certain someone calls your name."
Anika choked. "Wha—who? I—?"
Myra stared, surprised. "Is she talking about…?"
"Shh," Dadi grinned devilishly, then turned to Rajeshwari. "You're already in love. But sometimes love needs a reminder. Tell him you love him, not just through actions."
Rajeshwari smiled, nodding slowly.
Then Dadi turned to Myra, her gaze softening. "And you, little one… love can be frightening when it comes wrapped in silence and shadows. But when it calls your name—don't run from it. Sometimes, it's the one thing that can bring you back to life."
Myra's smile faltered slightly, her eyes darting to the shadows beyond the pillars. She didn't say a word. But a quiet bloom stirred in her chest.
Suddenly, Anika clapped. "Next game! Charades!"
As the courtyard echoed with more laughter and Dadi's dramatic acting, the wind carried whispers through the curtains—and with it, a single stolen moment.
Behind the courtyard pillar, Ranvijay leaned quietly, out of sight, hearing the echo of Myra's laugh—feeling something unspoken tug inside him.
Shiv was nowhere near. He had quietly slipped toward the servant corridor where he might get a harmless accidental glimpse—strictly for security purposes, of course.
But tonight belonged to the women.
And even the shadows respected that.