Rajgarh Palace

The palace was unusually quiet the morning after Aarohi fainted near the vault. Servants moved slower. Bhavya whispered more. Even Rajmata had not summoned her, which was more terrifying than any insult.

Wrapped in a silk shawl, Aarohi sat by the marble fountain in the Moon Garden—a private space once reserved for queens.

She traced the cracks in the stone lotus pattern beneath her feet.

> "I’ve been here before…"

The vision still haunted her. A burning sword. A screaming bride. A whisper:

"You must die before you can reign."

---

Footsteps. Leather. Familiar.

Aviraj stood behind her, silent.

She didn't turn.

"You followed me again," she said softly.

"No," he replied. "I stayed back… because I was afraid of what you'd remember."

Aarohi finally faced him. “Why are you afraid of me, Aviraj?”

“I’m not,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m afraid of what we are. You bring pieces of a past I’ve spent years trying to bury.”

His voice cracked slightly. That scared her more than the vault ever had.

---

He sat beside her. The shadows melted.

“Your mother—Anaya. She tried to protect something, didn’t she?” Aarohi asked.

“She tried to protect you,” he said without looking at her. “Even before you were born.”

Aarohi blinked. “But I wasn’t—”

“You were promised to me, Aarohi,” he interrupted, voice like gravel. “The Maheshwaris and Raghuvanshis had a pact. When you were born… it was already decided. You were always meant to come here.”

---

Her hands trembled. A fate chosen without her consent.

“And yet,” she said bitterly, “I was kept from it. Why?”

“Because someone broke the pact. Someone tried to kill you as a child.”

Aarohi’s heart nearly stopped.

> “What do you mean?”

“There was a fire,” Aviraj said. “When you were six. A masked man entered your family’s summer house in Udaipur. Only your grandfather survived the attack—and so did you, hidden in a trunk by your nanny.”

“I... remember a fire,” she whispered. “I thought it was a dream.”

“It wasn’t. It was your beginning.”

---

Suddenly, music floated through the garden.

Classical. Sarangi and tabla.

“Rajmata ordered a private mehfil tonight,” he said. “To distract the court. To show everything is... under control.”

“I’m expected to dance?” she asked coldly.

“You’re expected to look like a queen,” he replied. “But only I know what you really are.”

She stood. Looked him in the eye. “And what’s that?”

He stepped closer, his eyes dark as obsidian.

> “A weapon wrapped in silk.”

---

Later That Night – The Mehfil Hall

Aarohi stood at the center in a deep red lehenga, golden embroidery glowing like embers. The nobles watched. Musicians played. Her anklets chimed like distant bells.

But her eyes searched only for Aviraj, standing in shadows.

She danced.

Not for tradition, not for beauty—

But to send a message.

> You forced me into this world, but I’ll learn its rules. And when I do—I’ll burn it from within.

As the last beat hit, Aviraj raised his glass in a silent salute.

And far in the back, a figure in a gray uniform watched quietly.

Inspector Veer Rana.

And on his phone: a photo of the pendant Aarohi found.

Below it: A decrypted line from the diary.

> "Only th

e bride who dances beneath the moon thrice shall unlock the gate of fire."

---

End of Chapter Four

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