Page 76 of Trapped By the Maharaja
“Mei,” Viraj added, quieter, but with the same gravity.
Suchitra Devi inclined her head in a regal gesture, but her eyes softened as she nodded at her sons.
Then, almost as one, the brothers turned to Sanjana.
“Bajen.”
“Bhabhi.”
“Bhau.”
The words were a recognition of her place as their brother’s wife.
Sanjana sucked in a breath. “Good morning,” she murmured back a greeting
The staff came in, serving breakfast with efficiency. Rukmini-amma came in and personally served them all with an affectionate smile.
Sanjana returned the elderly housekeeper’s greeting and smile. Feeling Ram’s eyes, and unable to resist, she turned.
Her breath caught when their gazes met. The memory of the previous night slammed into her. The feel of his mouth, his touch, and the heat consuming her body. Her cheeks warmed before she could stop herself. His gaze was steady, dark, unreadable, but she felt it sweep through her like a touch.
She quickly lowered her gaze, gripping her spoon too tightly.
Sanjana tried to steady her pulse, but her mind whirled in panic. The chance she had with Suchitra Devi only moments ago slipped through her fingers once again.
She had only a few hours before the world knew her as Ram Devara's bride.
???
After breakfast, she tried to get a private moment with Suchitra Devi. She spotted Suchitra Devi, standing next to her personal assistant in the central courtyard, speaking to a group of decorators and event planners. Sanjana began walking toward her.
But before she could take more than a few steps, a well-dressed woman from the decoration team intercepted her, arms full of marigold garlands. “Your Highness, would you like to see the final arrangements in the great hall? We want to ensure it meets your expectations.”
Sanjana hesitated, glancing past the woman toward the queen’s retreating figure. “I am not sure—”
“Just a quick moment,” the woman insisted, already guiding her toward the hall.
By the time Sanjana had nodded distractedly at the floral displays and politely excused herself, Suchitra Devi was gone.
Sanjana found her again in the north wing, speaking to her assistant. Before Sanjana could go to her, another palace staff member stepped into her path.
“Maharani, we need your approval on the refreshments for the guests,” the woman said. “It must be finalized immediately for the kitchen to proceed.”
Sanjana frowned. “I trust your judgment—”
“Rukmini-amma asked us to get your input,” the woman replied, already ushering her toward the kitchens.
By the time Sanjana extracted herself, the queen was nowhere in sight again.
It happened a third time, and then a fourth, with someone always politely but insistently drawing her away just as she neared Suchitra Devi.
By mid-afternoon, frustration and panic had lodged tightly in her chest. Whether it was a coincidence or a deliberate attempt, she was being kept from the one person she most needed to speak to.
No, it can’t be a coincidence.
Being intercepted every time she tried to reach Suchitra Devi had to be someone’s plan.
Ram.
