WebNovels

Chapter 40 - THE SHATTERED DEVOTION

The Rolls-Royce, a silent phantom against the moon-drenched desert sky, glided through the palace gates. Inside, the scent of expensive leather mingled with Aayat's floral perfume. She clutched the velvet-wrapped box in her lap, a secret smile playing on her lips.

"You really think he'll like it?" she whispered, her voice a soft tremor in the quiet car. Veer, his hands steady on the wheel, chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Aayat , it's a vintage astrolabe. For a king obsessed with the stars and ancient maps? He'll probably build a new wing just to house it."

"Don't exaggerate," she scoffed, though a warmth spread through her.

"He'll appreciate the thought, at least."

"The thought of you sneaking out with me at his coronation party to acquire it?" Veer's tone was light, teasing. "That, he might appreciate less."

"It was a surprise!" she protested, a playful nudge to his arm.

"Besides, I left a note. He knows."

"A note explaining why you vanished from his side, arm in arm with his cousin, at his own coronation?" Veer pulled the car to a smooth halt before the private entrance to Aayat's wing.

"You're a brave woman, Aayat." She laughed, a bright, clear sound that seemed to chase away the midnight hush.

"He's not that bad."

She gathered the gift, her heart thrumming with anticipation. "Thank you, Veer. For everything."

"Anytime, Aayat," he murmured, his gaze lingering a moment too long. "Go on. Make your king happy."

Aayat pushed open the heavy door, the cool night air embracing her. She moved with a light step, the promise of a shared future humming in her veins. Above, in his private chambers, Anirudh stood by the arched balcony, a goblet of amber liquid forgotten in his hand. His eyes, sharp as a desert hawk's, tracked Aayat's every move. He watched her laughter, the easy intimacy with Veer, the way her hand had briefly rested on his arm. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

"So This is what loyalty looks like", He muttered, voice low venomous. 

The envelope, its contents seared into his mind – Aayat, head thrown back in laughter, Veer's arm a possessive curve around her waist and that too in the middle of a forest earlier – crumpled in his other fist. "Foolish girl," he hissed, the words a poisonous whisper against the stone.

"You think you can play games with a king? With your king?"

He turned from the balcony, the world outside suddenly irrelevant. A primal rage, cold and precise, began to build within him. He strode to the heavy wooden table, sweeping its contents—inkwells, quills, a stack of coronation decrees—to the floor with a violent crash. The crystal decanter of the finest aged Scotch followed, shattering against the marble, its rich scent filling the room like a lament. Books flew from shelves, their pages scattering like startled birds. He tore tapestries from the walls, their intricate patterns ripping under his furious strength. The room became a tempest, a physical manifestation of the storm inside him. He sank into a high-backed chair, the last remaining bastion of order in the chaos, and poured himself another glass, the sharp tang of the liquor doing little to quell the inferno. His eyes, now twin pools of obsidian, fixed on the door.

Aayat hummed softly as she ascended the grand staircase. The palace was quiet, save for the distant chirping of crickets. She imagined Anirudh's surprise, his stern face softening into a rare smile. She pictured herself, kneeling before him, confessing the love that had bloomed unexpectedly, fiercely, in her heart. Tonight, everything would change. Tonight, their true life would begin.

She reached his chamber door, pushing it open with a soft click. The air inside was thick, heavy with the scent of spilled liquor and something else… something acrid, metallic. Her smile faltered. Her gaze swept the room. It was a battlefield. Furniture overturned, papers strewn like fallen leaves, shattered glass glinting malevolently on the marble floor. Her breath hitched. The velvet-wrapped gift slipped from her numb fingers, thudding softly onto a scattered book. Anirudh sat in the center of the devastation, a dark, still figure. His regal robes were disheveled, his hair falling across his brow. He lifted a glass to his lips, his eyes, burning with an unholy light, found hers.

"Well, well," his voice, a low rasp, cut through the silence.

"The prodigal wife returns. And not a moment too soon." Aayat stood frozen, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.

"Anirudh… what happened here?" Her voice was barely a whisper. He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving her.

"What happened? I believe the more pertinent question is, where have you been, Aayat?"

"I… I went out. To get you something." She gestured vaguely towards the fallen gift, her mind racing, trying to piece together the madness around her. He let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Oh, I know exactly what you were getting. And with whom."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous hush. "Do you think me a fool, Aayat? Do you think I don't see? Do you think I don't hear the whispers that follow you and my dear cousin?" Confusion warred with a dawning horror in her eyes.

"Whispers? Anirudh, what are you talking about? Veer and I… we were just…"

"Just what?" he interrupted, his voice rising, a venomous hiss. "Just enjoying a midnight stroll? Just sharing a laugh, a touch, a secret from your husband? While he sits on his throne, celebrating his coronation, dreaming of a future with his queen, you're out there, flaunting your affections with another man!"

"No!" Aayat cried, her voice cracking. "That's not true! Veer is your cousin! We were getting you a gift, a surprise! I wanted to gift you something valuable , to make this night memorable."

He threw his head back, a harsh, guttural laugh tearing from his throat. "Make this night more memorable? You have a strange way of doing it, my queen. Sneaking off with another man, then coming back to spin pretty lies."

He rose from the chair, a predator unfolding. "I gave you time, Aayat. I promised I would not touch you until you came to me, until you made me touch you." He stalked towards her, each step deliberate, menacing. "But you, my love, have broken that promise for me."

The air seemed to still. The firelight flickered across his face—half shadow, half fury.

Aayat stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs, realizing that the man before her wasn't the composed ruler she'd known.

This was the storm she had feared—the one that loved her too much, too darkly.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint, broken smile ghosting his lips.

"Now," he murmured, voice almost tender, "let's see what happens when a king stops keeping his promises."

The room fell silent, the words hanging heavy between them like the calm before a hurricane.

More Chapters