The first light of dawn spilled across the palace balcony in strokes of gold and red.
Princess Vaidehi rose early, her bridal bangles cold against her wrist as she fastened the last hook of her blouse. Her eyes, however, were not on her reflection—they were on the empty bed behind her.
He hadn’t slept beside her.
Not even a touch. No words after the wedding night.
Only silence. And that same unreadable stare that had followed her like a shadow through every ritual.
She ran her fingers down the silk folds of her sari, adjusted her earrings, and inhaled deeply.
> Today, I begin.
The plan was simple: get close to him. Win his attention. Make him trust her enough to let his guard down. Find the gem—the one whispered about in Rajyagarh’s war council. The Serpent’s Heart. Hidden somewhere in the palace vaults.
And if she had to seduce the prince to get it? So be it.
She found him in the courtyard. Sword in hand. Shirtless.
The blade moved like it was part of him, slicing air with controlled grace. Prince Aaryan’s body was a map of scars and muscle—earned, not inherited. She watched him in silence, admiring the balance of power and elegance.He didn’t notice her watching at first—or maybe he did and just didn’t care.
From the shadowed archway, Vaidehi’s breath caught as Prince Aaryan lifted his sword again, his bare back flexing beneath the sun. His skin shimmered with sweat, gliding over muscle carved like stone. Each movement was precise, brutal, and utterly graceful.
She had faced kings, killers, generals.
But none of them moved like him—like war was stitched into his blood.
She had come to the training court that morning to speak, to seduce with smiles and false warmth.
But now she could barely breathe.
> Get a grip, Vaidehi, she scolded herself. He’s the mark. Nothing more.
Yet her eyes betrayed her. They traced the curve of his spine, the narrow taper of his waist, the way his fingers gripped the hilt of his blade like he’d done it in battle and in blood.
And worst of all… he knew.
He finished the form with a sharp exhale, sword slicing the air with a clean whistle. Then he turned to face her, still shirtless, chest rising with controlled breaths.
> “Are you going to stand there all morning?” he asked, voice calm. “Or have you come to judge my form?”
She blinked, swallowed the dryness in her throat, and stepped into the light with her best royal smile.
> “I’ve seen worse,” she said, teasing.
Vaidehi’s pulse stuttered. There was something almost cruel in the way he moved—deliberate, slow, like he was letting her look… and daring her to stop.
She couldn’t.
> “You’re surprisingly humble, Your Highness,” she said, trying to steady her voice.
> “You’re surprisingly bold,” he replied, eyes locking onto hers. “Most brides don’t stalk their husbands around the palace.”
> “Maybe I’m not like most brides.”
He stepped closer. One more step, and he’d be able to touch her waist without even lifting his hand.
> “So I’ve noticed.”
She should have stepped back.
But she didn’t.
The air between them was thick with heat—not from the sun, but from everything unspoken. She could smell him now—earth, steel, and something deeper. Masculine. Dangerous.
> “You’re staring again,” he murmured.
> “You’re not exactly subtle,” she replied.
He leaned in just slightly, brushing a damp strand of her hair off her cheek with the back of his knuckle.
> “Neither are you.”
Her breath hitched. Every part of her was alert—this close, she could see the fine scar just under his jaw. She wanted to trace it. She wanted—
No.
She stepped back, clearing her throat.
> “I should go,” she said.
> “Yes,” he replied. “Before you forget why you came.”
She turned away, heart pounding in her chest like war drums.
But as she left, his voice followed—soft, deadly, seductive.
> “Careful, Princess. You’re trying to play me…”
> “…but you might end up playing yourself.”
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