The dust settled over the mountain pass, mingling with the chilling silence that followed the unseen volley of arrows. Arjun Rathore, a warrior to his core, quickly took command, dispatching men to secure the high ground and inspect the bodies of the neutralized archers. He found the attackers were crude hill bandits, but the counter-attack arrows were honed, deadly, and entirely unmarked by any royal crest.
Arjun's eyes kept returning to Aadhya. While Tanishka and Ridhima wept hysterically behind a nervous Yashodhara, Aadhya stood by the carriage, her posture straight, her eyes fixed on the empty cliff where the hunter had perched. She was pale, but utterly composed.
"Princess Aadhya," Arjun said, approaching her with a new measure of respect. "Your observation was crucial. You saw the danger where my own men focused on the block. How did you know to look above?"
Aadhya turned, her gaze steady. She couldn't reveal the hunter. "Instinct, Maharaja," she replied softly, cloaking her sharp mind in demure terms. "The ambush was too... calculated. A barricade is a distraction. The true weapon is always hidden."
Arjun Rathore nodded slowly, assessing her. He saw not a fragile princess, but a sharp mind concealed behind delicate features. She truly is something extraordinary.
The immediate danger spurred Tanishka and Ridhima into their next planned move: undermining Aadhya by pretending competence and kindness to the Rathores, while subtly portraying Aadhya as weak and high-maintenance.
As the path was cleared, the step-sisters rushed to comfort Yashodhara, leaving Aadhya alone.
"Oh, thank the gods you are safe, Yashodhara," Ridhima fluttered, clutching the Rathore princess's arm. "You must be so unsettled. Our Aadhya, you see, she just freezes in moments of crisis. She has always been like that—so sensitive."
"She is far too gentle for all this wilderness," Tanishka added, forcing a worried frown. "She needs the peace of our court, where men like Devendra Singh Chauhan protect their women with walls, not... arrow barrages from nowhere."
Yashodhara, however, had spent the last hour observing Aadhya's calm demeanor while the sisters shrieked. She pulled her arm gently from Ridhima's grasp.
"Princess Aadhya did not freeze," Yashodhara said, her voice quiet but firm. "She warned my father and gave him the most astute tactical observation of anyone present. She is strong. And as for our men," Yashodhara continued, her gaze suddenly hardening as she looked toward the dead bandits, "I find that protection that acts swiftly and without being asked is the most effective kind."
The sisters' faces tightened with stunned frustration. Their attempt at sabotage had backfired, instead elevating Aadhya in Yashodhara's eyes.
Later that night, the caravan set up camp in a wide, secure clearing. Aadhya excused herself, seeking a moment of quiet near the edge of the firelight. She was still vibrating with the memory of the hunter's proximity, the scent of him, and the chilling realization that he had provided overwhelming, brutal protection just for her.
He is playing a dangerous game, using me as the prize, she had thought.
As if summoned by her own treacherous thoughts, he appeared—stepping silently out of the surrounding darkness, his presence eclipsing the firelight.
Aadhya gasped, taking a sharp, involuntary step back, her dupatta already raised.
He watched her reaction, a flash of pure, dark satisfaction in his eyes.
"You still run, little Princess," he observed, his voice a low vibration that seemed to bypass her ears and settle in the pit of her stomach. "You saw the swiftness of the response today. Did you believe your pretty words would have stopped those archers?"
Aadhya clenched her fists, her blood boiling, yet her body was immobile. "I believe I am capable of defending myself," she managed, her voice trembling only slightly.
He took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "A fascinating belief. And a foolish one. You are a jewel, Aadhya. Beautiful, valuable, and inherently fragile. You are meant to be claimed, guarded, and owned."
A fierce, possessive note entered his tone that made the hairs on Aadhya's arms rise. It wasn't merely attraction; it was a claim.
"I belong to no man," she retorted, her fire flaring. "I choose my own fate."
He was inches away now. He reached out, his large hand gently but firmly gripping her jaw, his thumb brushing the delicate curve of her cheekbone. A shiver, both of terror and something uncontrollably thrilling, shot through Aadhya. Her defiance melted into a raw, submissive stillness under his touch. Her breathing hitched, eyes wide, locked on his.
"You are mine to protect," he corrected, his voice dropping to a seductive, commanding whisper that was meant only for her. His gaze dropped to her mouth, dark and intense. "You were mine in that forest. You are mine on this road. And every arrow that flies in this realm flies with my permission. Do you understand the price of my protection, Aadhya?"
She tried to speak, tried to fight, but the sheer dominance of his touch and gaze paralyzed her. The sensation was terrifying, wrong—and yet, shamefully, it made her belly clench with a terrifying wave of heat.
"Say it," he commanded, his thumb stroking her jaw softly. "Say you understand who holds the leash."
A tear of sheer, frustrated rage and helpless awareness welled in Aadhya's eye. She was the strategist, the reborn queen, and yet, for this man, she was utterly submissive.
"I... I understand," she whispered, the words ragged.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise tasting like a dark threat. "Now, go back to your camp. And remember this feeling. You are the tigress, but I am the hunter who knows how to tame you."
He released her as abruptly as he had seized her. Aadhya stumbled back, clutching her jaw, her face burning, her body aching with the need to fight and the urge to submit. He was gone, swallowed by the night, but the warmth of his touch and the weight of his claim lingered like a brand.
Aadhya walked back to the firelight, her composure barely held together. She had just faced her first direct, personal confrontation with Rudra's dominance—or the dominance of the man who commanded her fate. And her body, traitorously, had submitted.
He thinks he has tamed the tigress. But he will soon learn that a tamed tigress is the deadliest kind.