Murat pov:)

The grand windows of the royal palace framed a view that could have captivated anyone else, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I had come here with a simple intention—a visit, nothing more. 

Yet, the unexpected twist of events had set the wheels of a far more complex plan in motion. The weight of my thoughts, the possibilities, and the consequences loomed heavy as I stared out into the sprawling expanse of the kingdom.

A knock at the door interrupted my musings, and the sound of it opening drew my attention. Turning, I saw one of the palace guards step inside, his demeanor respectful but laced with urgency. "Prince," he began, "there is a man at the palace gates claiming to be your brother. Is it true?"

I blinked, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "Ah, I almost forgot about him. Bring him to me immediately."

Moments later, Rhaman strode into the room, the door closing behind him. His sharp eyes took in my expression, the subtle tension in my stance. "What is going on, bhaijaan? Are you seriously considering marrying the princess?"

I turned to face him fully, my voice calm but resolute. "Yes, if she agrees."

His eyes widened, disbelief etched into his features. "But what about the throne of Arub? You know this marriage could jeopardize your claim. Without it, you won't become Sultan."

I couldn't help the small, amused laugh that escaped me. "That is precisely why I am marrying her, Rhaman."

I stepped closer, my voice lowering, my tone carrying the weight of my calculated intent. "Think about it. If she becomes my wife, Arub will be strengthened. Her kingdom is twice the size of ours. With her by my side, I will hold more power than the current Sultan could ever dream of. I'll have leverage—either he cedes the throne willingly, or he prepares for a war he can't win."

Rhaman rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "You always think ten steps ahead, bhaijaan, but let me ask you this—why would she help you? Why would Princess Chavi agree to such a scheme?"

"She won't," I replied smoothly, my gaze unwavering. "She doesn't need to know. This is between me and the Sultan. She will never hear a word of it."

For a moment, Rhaman looked at me as though he pitied my ambitions. Then his expression shifted, teasing and sly. "And once you have the throne, you'll leave her, right? After all, she'll have served her purpose."

His words, though spoken lightly, struck a nerve. My sharp glare silenced him, and I found myself speaking before I had the chance to analyze my response. "Why would I leave her?"

Rhaman raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "So, the emotionless prince does have a heart. Tell me, Bhaijaan, have you started falling for the princess?"

I turned back to the window, but I felt the faintest smile ghost across my lips. The thought of her—fierce, proud, untamed—lingered in my mind. "Maybe," I murmured, almost to myself. "Just maybe... I could have someone who is mine. Someone who will love me, think only of me."

I closed my eyes briefly, the image of her fiery gaze vivid in my mind. "If she agrees to this marriage, Rhaman, I will give her the universe. I will make every ruler kneel before her, myself included."

The room fell into silence, but the tension was electric. I knew the path I was walking was fraught with risks, but the stakes had never felt so exhilarating.

 If she became mine, I would stop at nothing to keep her—and the world would learn just how dangerous love could be in the hands of a man like me.

The royal dining hall was nothing short of magnificent, its intricately carved walls and rich tapestries a testament to the wealth and grandeur of the Hind kingdom.

Yet, my gaze was drawn not to the splendor around me but to the unexpected sight at the center of the room.

The great King of Hind, the formidable Abhirath, was serving food alongside his wife, Queen Vedanti. The scene was surreal, almost humbling, as their two sons—Abhiraj and Abhishek—joined them in preparing and presenting the meal. It was an intimacy I had never associated with royalty.

Rhaman and I exchanged a glance, both of us momentarily taken aback. When they noticed us standing at the entrance, the king and queen greeted us warmly, inviting us to join them. 

To my surprise, instead of the elaborate seating arrangements made for us, they gestured for us to sit on the floor with them, legs crossed, in their traditional style.

Rhaman nudged me lightly, his amusement barely concealed as we accepted their invitation.

We sat down, and soon enough, plates were placed before us, filled with dishes that smelled nothing short of divine. As I took my first bite, I had to admit—the food was exquisite.

Just as I was savouring the spiced flavours, a soft, melodic sound filled the room, the faint jingle of anklets. The air seemed to shift, and my attention was drawn instinctively to the entrance.

Chavi entered, her presence radiant, commanding attention without effort. She carried herself with a confidence that rivalued any monarch, but there was a warmth in her gaze as she approached her father, holding out an intricately crafted utensil.

"Where did you find this?" King  asked, astonishment lacing his voice. "Even the soldiers couldn't locate it."

Her smile was radiant as she replied, sitting beside him gracefully. "They couldn't find it because they weren't looking through the eyes of a daughter. They weren't searching for their father, Babasa."

Her words were spoken with such simplicity, yet they carried a depth that struck me. And king leaned in to kiss her forehead smile on his face looking at his daughter, chavi affection was genuine, unguarded—a stark contrast to the calculated relationships I was accustomed to.

Chavi began serving her father a special fruit. This fruit is native to Hind and is not found easily. Her thoughtfulness was evident, her every action imbued with care and love for those around her.

I found myself staring, unable to look away. My mind wandered briefly, unbidden. What would it feel like to be loved by someone like her? To be the center of such warmth and devotion?

Rhaman, sitting beside me, wasn't oblivious to my distraction. He leaned in, pinching me sharply on the arm. "Stop staring at her like that. Her brothers are watching you."

His warning jolted me back to reality, and I shifted my gaze to Abhiraj and Abhishek. Both of them were glaring at me with a ferocity that would have sent a lesser man running. Their protective stances made their message clear—stay in your place, or else.

I met their stares with a polite smile, offering no challenge but making no apologies either. My focus returned to the meal, though I couldn't help but steal another glance at Chavi.

She was different—an enigma in every way. And as the meal continued, I realized one thing with certainty: the princess was more than just a prize to be won. She was a storm, a force to be reckoned with. 

And perhaps, for the first time in my life, I felt the faint stirrings of something I couldn't quite name.

The grand courtyard of the palace stretched before me, lit by the flickering glow of countless torches. The air was heavy with anticipation, as if the very stones of the palace walls knew a storm was brewing. 

I leaned against one of the marble pillars, feigning indifference, but my eyes betrayed me, searching the crowd until they found her.

There she was—Chavi. The Princess of Hind. She stood across the courtyard, surrounded by her family, her brothers hovering protectively by her side. Yet, she was untouchable, even for them. Her aura, her presence—it was magnetic. 

The soft rustle of her silk lehenga as she moved, the way her bangles caught the light and shimmered like stars—it was impossible to look away.

Our eyes met.

For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade into silence. The noise of the celebration, the laughter, the clinking of goblets—it all became background noise to the invisible thread that pulled our gazes together.

Her eyes were dark, deep pools of curiosity and something else—something far more dangerous. They held a challenge, daring me to look away, daring me to break the spell. But I didn't. I wouldn't.

Instead, I smirked, leaning casually against the pillar as if her gaze hadn't stolen the breath from my lungs. Her brows arched slightly, as though amused by my audacity, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe?

The distance between us was suffocating. My feet itched to close the space, to walk to her, to speak. But I knew better. This wasn't a woman to be approached lightly. No, Princess Chavi was a storm waiting to strike, and I... I was willing to stand in the rain.

She turned her head slightly, pretending to listen to something her father was saying, but her eyes—those traitorous, mesmerizing eyes—never left mine. It was as if we were having a conversation without words.

Do you think you're worthy of me? her gaze seemed to ask.

I think you already know the answer, Princess, mine replied.

Her lips curved into the faintest smirk, a subtle tilt of her head that sent my pulse racing. It wasn't a smile of amusement or warmth; it was one of intrigue, of acknowledgment. She was playing the game, and I was all too willing to play along.

She moved then, her fingers brushing against her father's arm as she whispered something to him. I saw King Abhirath glance in my direction, his gaze hard and assessing. But I didn't look at him. My focus was on her. Always on her.

As if sensing my unwavering attention, Chavi turned her head slightly, her anklets chiming softly as she stepped to the side. The movement was deliberate, calculated—designed to pull me in without a single word.

I exhaled, a slow, measured breath. What are you doing to me, Princess?

Her brothers noticed then. Abhiraj and Abhishek turned, their eyes narrowing as they followed my line of sight. Their protectiveness was almost amusing. Almost. But it didn't matter.

Chavi's gaze flickered to her brothers, then back to me. Her smirk widened just enough to be maddening. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation—only a confidence that both infuriated and entranced me.

The unspoken tension between us crackled like a live wire. We were standing worlds apart, yet it felt as if the space between us didn't exist.

She tilted her chin, her expression daring me to make a move.

I straightened, brushing invisible dust off my jacket as I took a step forward. Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before she steadied herself.

Her brothers stiffened, their hands inching toward their swords.

I stopped.

Chavi's eyes flared with something—was it surprise? Triumph?

And then, just as quickly, she turned away, the chiming of her anklets fading into the crowd.

I stayed where I was, my lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. She had walked away, but the look in her eyes lingered, seared into my memory.

The storm had come.

And I was ready to drown in it.

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