The early morning sun cast a golden hue over the palace courtyard, illuminating the dew-laden grass and the stone pathways with a soft shimmer. Virendra stood by the balcony, gazing out over the bustling streets below. His eyes were distant, but his thoughts were near—fixed on Rudrayani's sharp eyes and the knowing smirk that always seemed to play on her lips.
Since his confession to his mother, he had found strangely little relief. Admitting his feelings had only made them more tangible, and now they weighed on him with an unexpected restlessness.
He exhaled sharply, running his hand through his hair.
"No more excuses, Virendra," he muttered to himself.
"You can't keep buying swords forever."
But even as he thought it, he knew he was already considering a reason to visit her shop once again.
---
By midday, Virendra was already making his way through the bustling streets of the marketplace. The scent of roasted spices and freshly baked bread lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of leather and steel.
As he neared Rudrayani's shop, he slowed his steps slightly, exhaling through his nose to calm the subtle flutter in his chest. He had faced battles with unwavering confidence, yet here he was, feeling a slight nervousness at the mere thought of seeing her.
The small bell above the door chimed softly as he entered.
Rudrayani was behind the counter, inspecting a newly crafted dagger. Her eyes lifted casually when she heard the bell, but when she saw who had entered, her lips curved into a faintly amused smirk.
"Another sword already?" she asked smoothly, her voice carrying a note of mock exasperation.
"Or have you finally decided to buy the entire shop?"
Virendra's lips twitched faintly, but he didn't look away.
"I find it hard to resist fine craftsmanship," he replied evenly.
"Especially when it's in such capable hands."
For a brief moment, Rudrayani's smirk faltered, and her eyes narrowed slightly—not in annoyance, but in subtle intrigue.
She leaned forward slightly, her hands braced against the counter, her dark eyes searching his face.
"You never were much for flattery, Prince," she murmured, her tone more curious than teasing.
"So why now?"
Virendra's gaze held hers, his voice low and steady.
"Because it's not flattery."
For a moment, the air between them seemed to still, the faint noise of the bustling marketplace fading into a distant hum.
Rudrayani's eyes searched his, and for once, she found herself at a loss for words. She straightened slightly, breaking the gaze with a feigned casualness, turning to inspect a sword displayed on the wall.
"You're a dangerous man, Virendra," she muttered softly, though there was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice.
He arched a brow.
"Dangerous?" he asked, stepping closer.
"And why is that?"
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing slightly, though the smirk on her lips betrayed her composure.
"Because you have a talent for making people let their guard down."
Virendra's lips curved faintly, but he said nothing.
---
After he purchased yet another sword, Virendra lingered at the shop, offering to walk Rudrayani through the marketplace as she ran an errand for her father.
The streets were bustling with vendors and merchants, the scent of spices and oil filling the air. Children weaved between the carts, their laughter blending with the calls of shopkeepers.
As they walked, Rudrayani's sharp eyes scanned the crowd with the keen awareness of someone raised among merchants. She could identify a counterfeit gem at a glance, detect false weight in scales with barely a glance.
"You observe everything," Virendra remarked after a moment, watching the way her eyes subtly flicked from one merchant's hands to another's cart.
"A dangerous skill for a merchant's daughter."
She shot him a sideways glance, a glimmer of mock indignation in her eyes.
"And you're a prince buying swords as if you're building an army. Should I be worried?"
His lips twitched faintly, but he didn't answer immediately.
After a moment, she slowed her steps slightly and glanced toward him.
"You've been coming to my shop often," she said softly, her voice almost casual.
"Too often."
Virendra's eyes held hers. For once, he didn't deflect.
"Because I wanted to see you," he admitted quietly, his voice low but certain.
She stilled slightly, her breath catching faintly at the directness of his words.
For a moment, she searched his face, trying to discern whether he was being playful or sincere. But there was no trace of jest in his eyes.
Her lips parted slightly, but she found herself unable to respond.
"Virendra…" she began softly, but whatever she meant to say, she never finished.
Before she could form another word, a shout rang out from the far end of the street.
---
Virendra's eyes snapped toward the sound, his instincts immediately on edge. Across the street, a disheveled man was being dragged by two guards toward the palace gates. His clothes were torn, his face smeared with dirt, and his eyes were wild with desperation.
"Please!" the man cried out, his voice hoarse.
"I only took bread for my children!"
The guards yanked him forward roughly, ignoring his cries.
Without a word, Virendra's expression hardened. He stepped forward, his voice sharp.
"Stop."
The guards immediately stiffened, releasing the man. The crowd stilled, watching the scene in tense silence.
The man collapsed to his knees, clutching the bread. His eyes were wide with disbelief as he looked up at Virendra.
Virendra's eyes were firm but calm as he addressed the man.
"You stole out of hunger, not greed. I understand, but stealing is still wrong."
The man's face paled slightly, bracing for punishment.
Instead, Virendra turned to the vendor.
"Let him work for you," he said evenly.
"Pay him a fair wage, and let him repay the cost of the bread from his earnings."
The vendor blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the prince to intervene with such fairness. He hesitated but nodded slowly.
"Yes, my prince. As you command."
The man's eyes filled with tears, and he bowed deeply, his hands trembling with gratitude.
"Thank you, my lord… I will not forget this."
As the crowd slowly dispersed, Rudrayani watched Virendra closely, her expression unreadable.
"You could have let him go free," she murmured softly, more to herself than to him.
"But you didn't. You made him work."
Virendra's eyes met hers evenly.
"He needed kindness, but he also needed dignity."
For a moment, her gaze lingered on his face, something unspoken passing between them.
---
The twilight sun cast a soft amber glow over the horizon, bathing the palace gardens in hues of gold and crimson. The scent of blooming jasmine filled the evening air, carried by a gentle breeze. The day's warmth had faded into a mild, pleasant coolness, making it perfect for a quiet stroll.
Virendra stood near the palace's terrace, overlooking the orchard below. His eyes were distant, though his posture was relaxed. He was thinking of her—of Rudrayani.
In the weeks since their last encounter, he had been visiting her shop with less pretense. No longer under the flimsy excuse of buying swords, he would simply stop by and speak with her. Their conversations had grown longer, more meaningful, often stretching into the late evening. What began with shared smirks and sharp remarks had now transformed into something deeper—a bond that no longer needed to be concealed.
Yet, despite their growing attachment, there was still no official promise.
But tonight, that would change.
---
As Virendra waited near the terrace, he heard the soft rustle of footsteps behind him. Without turning, he knew it was her.
"I thought you weren't coming," he said lightly, his voice carrying a faint teasing note.
"I had no choice. You keep haunting my thoughts," she replied with a mock sigh.
"The only way to exorcise you is to face you."
Her tone was playful, but when Virendra turned to face her, the teasing melted away. His eyes softened slightly, drinking in the sight of her.
Rudrayani had worn a simple yet elegant emerald-green saree, the fabric light and flowing, adorned with subtle golden embroidery. The color complemented her dark eyes, which held a mixture of playfulness and warmth. Her hair was loosely tied back, with a few strands falling free around her face.
For a moment, Virendra forgot to breathe.
"You look..." he began softly, but his voice caught slightly.
Her eyes narrowed faintly, her lips curving into a smirk.
"Don't tell me you're out of words, Prince. That would be a shame."
He chuckled softly, recovering his composure, though his voice was still low and reverent.
"Beautiful," he finished quietly.
Her smirk faltered slightly, and a faint color touched her cheeks, betraying her usual composure.
They stood there in comfortable silence for a moment, the evening breeze stirring the leaves around them. The palace gardens were empty, save for the two of them.
Finally, Virendra spoke, his voice low but certain.
"I've wanted to tell you this for a while," he said quietly.
"But I never found the right moment."
Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head slightly, waiting.
He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them.
"I want you by my side, Rudrayani." His voice was steady, clear, and without hesitation.
"Not just for fleeting moments or stolen hours. I want you with me... always."
Her breath caught slightly, and for once, the sharp-witted merchant's daughter seemed at a loss for words.
She blinked slowly, her voice barely a whisper.
"Virendra..."
But he didn't let her finish.
He reached into the folds of his tunic, drawing out a small, ornate ring. It was simple in design—a golden band with a small, clear sapphire embedded at its center. No grand embellishments, no ostentatious gems, but it was meaningful.
"My grandmother's," he said softly, holding it out to her.
"She once told me that this ring belonged to the only woman she ever truly loved. I want it to belong to you."
Her eyes widened slightly, glancing down at the ring, then back up at him. For a moment, she searched his face, almost as if she were trying to find some trace of jest. But there was none.
"You're serious," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible.
He smiled faintly, his eyes warm.
"I've never been more serious about anything."
For once, Rudrayani's walls crumbled. She let out a shaky breath, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Her eyes shimmered faintly with unspoken emotion.
Slowly, she extended her hand, and Virendra slipped the ring onto her finger.
Her voice was soft, almost trembling, when she finally spoke.
"You know what you're asking for, don't you?" she whispered, her eyes locking onto his.
"I'm not a princess, Virendra. I have no lands to offer you. No dowry. No title."
Virendra's lips curved faintly, his voice barely above a murmur.
"I'm not marrying a title. I'm marrying you."
A shaky breath left her lips, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes glimmered with vulnerability. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and pressed her forehead against his chest, closing her eyes as she exhaled softly.
For a long moment, they simply held each other beneath the stars, neither speaking, only feeling the other's presence.
---
The next morning, the palace courtyard was filled with nobles, guards, and servants. Queen Yashodhara sat upon her carved throne, her expression composed but clearly pleased.
By her side stood Jayvarma and his wife, who both smiled warmly as they glanced at Virendra.
When Virendra entered the hall with Rudrayani by his side, a hush fell over the crowd. The sight of a prince with a merchant's daughter by his side stirred a wave of surprise.
Many of the nobles whispered among themselves, some with thinly veiled disapproval, but most with curiosity.
Queen Yashodhara stood gracefully, her voice clear and unwavering.
"Today, we announce the betrothal of my son, Prince Virendra, to Lady Rudrayani, daughter of merchant Govind. Their union shall be celebrated with the blessings of this kingdom, and their wedding shall be held next year."
The courtyard erupted into applause, though some nobles exchanged glances of surprise and skepticism.
When the formalities were over, Virendra's family surrounded him, offering their congratulations.
Devasena threw her arms around him, her face glowing with happiness.
"I knew it! I knew you liked her!" she declared triumphantly.
"You couldn't fool me, brother!"
Jayvarma, ever the calm older brother, patted Virendra's shoulder with a knowing smile.
"You've chosen wisely, little brother," he said softly, his voice carrying genuine warmth.
"She will make a fine wife—and a formidable ally."
Even Kumar Varma, despite his boastful nature, smiled and slapped Virendra on the back.
"I suppose I'll need to find a wife now too. Can't let my younger cousin upstage me."
Throughout it all, Rudrayani remained at Virendra's side, her hand firmly in his, her eyes warm but fierce with determination.
As the sun set over the palace, the two of them stole a brief moment of solitude on the balcony, away from the festivities.
"Next year," Rudrayani whispered softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"You'll be my husband."
Virendra's lips curved into a slow smile, his voice low and certain.
"And you'll be my wife."
---