Chapter 6: The Maharani’s Mockery

Kaveripur Palace. After paying respects to the queen, the Maharani glanced at my emerald green saree and couldn’t help but mock:

“Such a lowly noble lady dares to imitate me openly?”

“Just yesterday, His Highness praised me for looking so pleasing in green, saying I was the only one in the palace who could wear it so brightly, and today you couldn’t wait to copy me?”

“What a poor imitation. Pity, some people can’t even see His Highness’s shadow.”

After speaking, she laughed aloud in ridicule. The others present laughed along. In the entire palace, I was indeed the only one who had only spent the night with His Highness once.

The humiliation burned hotter than the afternoon sun on the marble verandah. The Maharani’s words were sharp, each one drawing blood. The other ladies tittered behind their hands, their kohl-lined eyes glittering with malice.

My own green silk, a shade softer than hers, suddenly felt like a borrowed skin. In the past, I didn’t care about such cold mockery. Instead, I found the peace comfortable. But now, looking at the Maharani’s green saree, my calm heart surged again. When Arjun praised me in green before, was it truly for me, or was he thinking of the unattainable Maharani through me? Most likely the latter.

I remembered how he once whispered, “You look radiant in this shade, Lady,” his eyes shining with something I thought was pride. Now, I doubted everything—was it me he saw, or just a reflection of her? If he truly loves the Maharani, yet pretends in every way before me, such a hypocritical, scheming person might really make my family pay with their lives for her one day.

I bit my lower lip until it bled. The metallic taste grounded me, even as my vision blurred. I pressed my nails into my palm again, an old habit from childhood days spent hiding tears from nosy aunties.

The Maharani saw and snorted coldly:

“You should work hard to get close to His Highness, or if something happens to your family in the future, you won’t even have someone to plead for you.”

“How tragic.”

Her words made my brow jump. A vague sense of unease crept into my heart. Her voice was syrupy sweet, but her meaning was poison. I clutched my gold bangles, murmuring a quick prayer under my breath, the warning clear—a storm was brewing, and my family’s safety hung by a thread.