❝all is not fair in love and war❞
To ensure the survival of the Mughal Empire, Princess Afsana must form a political marriage in Europe. Amongst her potential suitors stands Louis, Count of Champagne, a man driven by dangerous ambitions that destroy...
Staying in the Louvre became almost suffocating after the events with the Count of Champagne.
The rajkumari's young mind was now even more fogged as she struggled to pick out the best husband, and the best deal to protect her country. It had not helped that early that morning her father's letter arrived, urging her to make a decision.
It was for that reason she'd taken a walk by the barns, in hopes of clearing her mind. Instead, she now felt even more stressed.
Lord Cosson has organised a visit of the local market for her and her companions. They had been given to strict instructions to not get off the carriage, in case anyone tried to attack or rob them.
So Afsana and Lubna peered from behind the curtains as they wheeled past French citizens and shops.
In every corner she saw beggars, mostly elderly and children, pleading with shop keepers for some food. When their carriage passed by, one child with disheveled hair and stained fingers knocked on their door, asking for some money. Zia, who was now healthy enough to join them, threw her some coins from outside where he sat by the driver.
"The French royals are setting themselves up for their own beheading." Lubna remarked as she watched.
Back in her land, the Emperor did his best to feed the poor and keep his people happy. He had always preached that a hungry population was one of the main reasons for any leader's downfall.
"If I became Queen, I could help." Afsana murmured.
She looked back at the markets until they faded behind the trees of the forest they had to pass through to return to the palace.
They patiently rode through, believing that any danger was behind them.
But little did they know.
Eerie eyes watched them from the shadows, creeping behind in horses. At their leader's signal, they fired the first few arrows, aiming for the men outside the carriage.
The driver was hit directly in the chest, and bronze skinned bodyguard at back right in his arm. They missed the one with long hair, who was now alert and ready with his own bow.
Zia could hear Nadim groaning in pain at the back of the carriage, and his heart ached to go help him, but had to do his duty.
He hit three of their men.
But before he could shoot one more, he heard the whimpers of the women he was trying to protect.
The rajkumari and her lady-in-waiting were being each held by two men, a dagger pressed softly on the former's throat, whilst the latter struggled to free her wrists from her captor's grip.
"Put your bow down." The leader said, as he came to stand besides his men.
"Leave them immediately! That is the princess of Mughal you're holding!" Zia screamed, his bow still up.
The man smirked. "We know, we came to escort her."
"Escort me where?" Afsana barely slipped out, before she felt a cloth being pressed on her face, and day became night before her in mere seconds.
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When her eyes fluttered open once again, all the princess saw was a vast white wall.
It seemed to take hours for her pupils to adjust, and a few tries to get herself to a sitting position using her elbows for support.
She was on a bed. In a room with no other furniture and plain white walls. It was not her chamber at the Louvre. And certainly not the one at home.
Trying to push past the disorientation, her mind pieced together the last few scenes of what happened before she passed out. When she came to remember that her companions were also attacked, she looked around to see if she could find them, but at no avail.
Afsana dropped head in her hand, massaging her temple with her fingers to soothe the pain.
She was alone, Allah knows where, and had no idea how to get out.
And whilst the throbbing in her head increased, the lock of the door began to rattle. The princess expectantly shot her head, wincing when the move made the pain worse, and stared at the door until it swung open, showing three women standing behind it.
The one in the middle walked forward first, in elegant steps that made her purple and gold dress dance. Her blonde hair was pulled in a bun, and a small crown lay upon her head.
"You've woken," The woman stated the obvious. "Finally."
"W-who are you? And where am I?" Afsana chocked out, struggling to get herself upright.
The woman raised a brow, seemingly offended she had not been recognised.
"I am Catherine de Medici. Queen Catherine to you."
The princess paused to process that. She was seeing the Queen of France. Prince Francis's mother. A woman who looked nowhere as beautiful as she did in any of her portraits, with many more wrinkles and protruding pimple than ever shown.
A woman's whose presence did not answer any of the questions running through her head.
"I'm sure you must be wondering a lot of things." Catherine said. "So I will briefly tell you everything you need to know. You are to stay here until your father agrees to hand Pondicherry over to France."
Afsana looked at the old woman like she'd gone mad. "And where exactly is here?"
"Palace of Fotainebleau, of course."
"But-but our deal...I haven't agreed to marry Francis." Part of her felt she already knew what was coming, with Ambassador Morris's words ringing in her ears. But she wanted to hold on to the hope that he'd been wrong.
"As if I'd let my son ever marry a filthy pagan." Catherine sneered. "We tried to get you a lot sooner, but our men shamefully failed to capture you from the Louvre."
And it felt like a an entire came crashing down on Afsanan when she heard that. The seizure of a few nights ago was also Catherine's plan. She could not believe that the Mughal court had fallen into such a trap, believing the words of the conniving old witch in front of her.
"This is wrong, you are holding a princess hostage. This could damage France." Even to her own ears these words sounded like desperate attempts to salvage herself.
"We will do what's necessary for our country." Catherine said evenly.
"My father won't let a bunch of colonisers take over."
She didn't know if that was certain. Emperor Jalal would a lot of things to protect their children, and he may even give up Pondicherry for it. If that were to become true, his worst nightmare may also become a reality, where the Europeans expand and take over the entire Mughal empire.
"We'll see about that." Catherine said, smirking.
For the first time in her life, the rajkumari wished from the bottom of her heart that her father would put duty before his own blood.
