Rajveer's warm voice filled the vast hall as he guided them toward the central courtyard, where fountains whispered and peacocks strutted under the morning sun. He spoke of the wedding, of traditions that had to be upheld, and of the grandeur expected by Rajasthan's most powerful family.
Ishika listened intently, jotting down notes, her professional mask steady. Aayat, however, found herself distracted — not by the opulence, but by the silence between Rajveer's words.
Every time he mentioned "my elder brother", the room seemed to shift. Servants exchanged glances. Guards straightened their stances. Even Rajveer's smile would falter for a fraction of a second before he smoothly carried on.
It was as though the palace itself acknowledged Anirudh's existence, even when he wasn't there.
Aayat's gaze lingered on the portraits lining the marble walls. Generations of Rathores stared down at her, their eyes proud, some merciless. Among them, one canvas was draped with silk, half-hidden in shadow.
She tilted her head. "Why is that one covered?"
Rajveer's steps slowed, his voice gentle but firm. "Some legacies are… not for display."
Before Aayat could ask more, a sound broke the air — the heavy echo of boots against marble, somewhere deep within the corridors. The rhythm was slow, deliberate, each step resonating like a warning bell.
Ishika froze. Aayat glanced at her and found her lips pressed tight, her knuckles white around her folder.
"Is that—" Aayat whispered.
Ishika shook her head sharply, her voice barely audible. "Don't look. Just… don't."
The footsteps drew nearer, then paused. Silence pressed in from all sides. Aayat's heart thudded painfully in her chest, her breath shallow as though she had been caught trespassing where she didn't belong.
And then… nothing. The steps retreated, fading back into the labyrinth of halls.
Rajveer cleared his throat lightly, his smile returning as though to ease the tension. "Shall we?"
But Aayat didn't move. She knew she hadn't seen him — hadn't even heard his voice. Yet somehow, in that brief silence, she had felt him. The weight of a presence too strong, too dangerous to ignore.
The prince remained unseen. But his shadow… it had already found her.