The next two weeks passed in a blur, yet every moment felt significant. My wounds were healing slowly but steadily, thanks to the relentless care of the palace physicians and—unexpectedly—Rudraksha himself. He was always ensuring I took my medicines on time, that I didn’t strain myself, and that I ate properly.

At first, I found it amusing that the Maharaja, feared by so many, was hovering over me like an overly concerned guardian. But over time, I realized it wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper. He had taken personal responsibility for my well-being, and it showed in every small thing he did.

He never allowed me to exert myself too much, and whenever I tried to move around without assistance, he would glare at me in warning.

“You’ll ruin the wounds if you move too much,” he scolded one afternoon when I tried to get out of bed without help.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

Before my feet could touch the ground, he was already in front of me, one hand on my shoulder and the other under my legs, effortlessly lifting me back onto the bed.

“You’re not fine,” he said sternly. “Now stay here and rest.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “You’re treating me like a porcelain doll. A doll . ”

His gaze softened as he gently pulled the blanket over me. “No, Aranya. I’m treating you like someone I don’t want to lose.”

His words made my heart stutter, and I looked away, pretending to be more interested in the ceiling than in the way he was looking at me.

As I recovered, I started spending more time with him in his study. He allowed me to sit beside him as he handled affairs of the kingdom, and I found myself naturally slipping into discussions with him.

Rudraksha was an exceptional ruler—his instincts sharp, his strategies flawless. But he wasn’t just a warrior-king; he was a thinker. He listened, he analyzed, and most importantly, he valued knowledge.

One afternoon, as we sat in his private council chamber, he rolled out a large map on the table. “These are the surrounding kingdoms. Some are allies, some are threats,” he explained, pointing at the markings.

I studied the map for a moment, my modern knowledge kicking in. “This kingdom,” I said, pointing at one of them, “will betray you in the future. They form an alliance now, but within a few years, they’ll turn against you when they grow stronger.”

He frowned. “How do you know that?”

I hesitated. “I’ve read about it. You have a whole book about your kingdom .and I've read it . Thanks to my best friend Sandhya .”

His eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me everything.”

And so I did. Over the next few days, I started telling him about the rise and fall of kingdoms, the battles that would shape the region’s future, and the alliances that would crumble.

He listened intently, absorbing every word. And to my surprise, he wasn’t skeptical. He trusted me.

One evening, as we sat on the palace terrace under the stars, he leaned back, arms crossed. “You have the knowledge of time itself, Aranya,” he said thoughtfully. “And yet, you choose to share it with me.”

I smiled. “I believe in your kingdom, Rudraksha. And… I trust you.”

For a moment, something flickered in his golden eyes—something unreadable. Then he smirked. “You should. I am the greatest ruler, after all.”

I rolled my eyes. “And here I thought humility was a kingly virtue.”

He chuckled, and the sound was warm, rich.

As I grew more involved in court affairs, something unexpected happened—people began to notice.

The palace staff, the ministers, and even the soldiers started murmuring among themselves. The once-distant and fearsome Maharaja was opening up, and it was because of me.

One afternoon, as I was walking through the gardens, two maids whispered among themselves, unaware that I could hear them.

“I’ve never seen the Maharaja like this before,” one said. “He’s always been so… untouchable.”

“He’s different with her,” the other replied. “She’s the first person he’s ever let in.”

“She might just be the queen we’ve all been waiting for.”

I froze at that last comment, my heart racing. Queen?

The thought sent a strange warmth through me, but I shook it off. They’re just talking nonsense.

It wasn’t just the people who noticed the change—Rudraksha himself started acting differently.

One night, I sat on the floor of his chamber, trying to tie the strings of my anklet. My fingers fumbled, still weak from my injuries.

Without a word, he knelt in front of me, gently taking my ankle in his hands. “Let me.”

I swallowed hard, watching as his large hands skillfully tied the anklet into place.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, looking up at me.

The air between us was heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Another time, I had been reading an old scroll in the library when a strong gust of wind made my hair fall into my face. Before I could react, Rudraksha reached over and tucked a stray strand behind my ear.

“You get lost in books too much,” he murmured, smirking.

I turned away, trying to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

One day, as we sat together in his study, going through documents, I asked something that had been on my mind.

“Rudraksha,” I started hesitantly.

He looked up from his scroll, raising an eyebrow. “You finally said my name without the title.”

I huffed. “That’s not the point.”

He smirked. “It is to me.”

I ignored him. “Why hasn’t anyone questioned me staying with you just because I'm your lifesaver don't say it ? I mean, even in modern times, this would be considered scandalous.”

He laughed, the deep, rich sound filling the room. “Ah, well, that might be because I told them you’re my wife.”

I nearly choked. “WHAT?!”

He leaned back lazily, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I was joking, you actually fell for it for the second time ” he said, but his smirk told me he had enjoyed teasing me too much.

I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I told them you're staying with me and will be respected like me and they didn't question anything and they couldn't. I'm their king .”

I hummed in understanding. “I see… so I’m untouchable.”

“Exactly,” he said. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he added, “But if you want to be my wife, I wouldn’t mind.”

I threw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

He laughed, catching it effortlessly. “You’re sweet when you’re flustered.”

I turned away, shaking my head, but my heart was racing.

As the days passed, I felt more at home in Vyantara. The wounds on my body healed, but the connection I had formed with Rudraksha only grew stronger.

One evening, as we walked through the palace gardens, he turned to me and asked, “Do you still want to leave?”

I looked up at him, at the man who had gone from being a ruthless ruler to someone who made me feel safe, someone I trusted completely.

I smiled softly. “Not yet.”

He nodded, satisfied.

he said. “ you’ll stay close to me.”

I chuckled. “Bossy, aren’t you?” I told him what bossy Meant.

He smirked. “Always.”

And , I realized—I didn’t mind.