Page 17 of A Royal Deception

“You’re out of your mind,” she scoffed.

I shrugged in reply and turned to leave. It was a gamble, and I could lose everything, but I had to try. I couldn’t let her drive us into the streets with nothing. It all depended on how much Baisa’s future mattered to her mother.

“I don’t have that much cash lying around, beta,” she said frantically.

I kept walking. I was almost at the door when she let out a muted scream of frustration.

“I’ll give you one lakh now and the rest after Baisa’s bidaai,” she called out.

I still kept walking.

A maid poked her head around the door, looking frightened.

“Rani Sa, the pandit is calling you and Baisa to the mandap. What do I tell him? Baisa isn’t here yet. And that makeup waali didi wants to leave.”

“Get out,” she shrieked. “Tell the pandit Baisa will be there in ten minutes. She’s still getting ready. And lock that MUA in a room without her phone.”

I paused in the doorway and turned around with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine! You win, you ungrateful bitch,” she snarled. “Holding me to ransom after everything I’ve done for you.”

I shook my head in disgust.

“No, Rani Sa. This is the result of what you were about to do to me. We all have to pay for our sins. You’re paying for your sins right now, but I’ll pay for mine after the bidaai,” I said bleakly.

“Make haste and put on this wedding joda,” she said rudely. “Diggi, go and bring the cash from my cupboard. Lock the door behind you.”

“What if Baisa gets here soon?” asked Diggi Mausi when she came huffing into the room with a big, black bag ten minutes later.

“Then we’ll rip the joda off Shivina’s back and kick her out of the palace,” said Rani Sa with relish as she forced me to change out of my simpler clothes into the heavily embroidered red lehenga and choli.

The clothes were a tight fit, and I heaved a sigh of relief when I could still breathe comfortably after buttoning the choli. I was worried it was going to rip if I took a deep breath, but it didn’t.

I put on the jewellery that Baisa was supposed to wear for the pheras.

Diggi Mausi picked up the veil and frowned at it.

“Rani Sa, this veil is see-through,” she cried.

“Never mind, Diggi. Drape it around her like a dupatta and use the original dupatta as a veil. It’s heavy and completely opaque,” ordered Rani Sa. “Cover her face fully until her chin.”

“You’ll need to lead her to the mandap, or she’ll trip and fall,” mumbled Diggi Mausi through a mouthful of pins as she pinned the heavy veil in place and adjusted the dupatta.

Rani Sa walked around me slowly and studied me carefully. My head was bent with the weight of the veil, and I could only see her lower half.

“Hmm, I think she will pass. But the sindoor ritual is still the most dangerous point of the wedding. Keep your head down during the ritual, Shivina. I’ll raise the veil as little as I can, keeping just enough space for Jamai Sa to apply the sindoor without seeing your face. Here’s what you’re going to do, Diggi. Go downstairs right now and whisper to the pandit that we’ll pay him a lakh more than we’d promised if he tells us to keep the bride’s face fully covered during the rituals. He can claim it’s a family custom we need to follow.”

The extent of her duplicity amazed me as I sat there in borrowed finery. Rani Sa would go to any lengths to get her way, even bribing the pandit at the mandap. And yet, she couldn’t get her daughter to toe the line. Wasn’t that ironic?

There was another knock at the door, and the same maid called out frantically.

“Rani Sa, it’s time. They are calling for the bride,” she cried. “What do I tell them?”

“Open the door, Diggi,” ordered Rani Sa.

Diggi Mausi unlocked the door, and the maid’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw me.

“Oh, thank God Baisa is here. We’re saved,” she said, sending up a fervent prayer of thanks.

---