The Cursed Princess of Suryagarh: Book 1

9. Wretched news

It took Aarush a couple of seconds of stupor to comprehend what the man was talking about. But when he indeed understood the gravity of the situation, his hold around the kurta's collar loosened, and he stepped back.

Balwant Singh collapsed on his knees yet again and began weeping, sobbing, and wailing.

Aarush raked his hands through his hair, his gaze furiously darting between the gigantic lock on the door to Meera's chambers and the sandstone railing adjacent to the room. Incredulity was etched on his features, and the way he was respiring rashly conveyed well to Shreya that whoever had died was of utmost importance to him. For the blood ritual. "No..." he muttered. "This can't be happening. No."

Shreya brought her trembling fingers to his shoulders, hovering in midair, and contemplating if she should even touch him let alone ask questions or speak words of consolation, for he was definitely simmering with wrath.

"No..." He groaned. "No!" Lunging his phone across the hall, watching it shatter into quite a few big chunks, he grabbed Balwant Singh's collar again. The menacing fury from earlier returned, and he nearly choked the man. Again. "How did this happen?"

Balwant Singh gulped and let out a croaky mumble, "They got to him before I could." He coughed due to the stronghold of a pair of palms around his throat. "I... I tried to..."

"Aarush, you are going to kill him," Shreya shrieked. "Leave him, and let him speak."

"How did it happen?" Aarush's decibels went up. So did the tautness of his hands around the man's neck.

And that was the limit to Shreya's patience as she strode up to the incensed and enraged man. No longer was she wary of stopping him from exhibiting his anger and fearing it would be directed towards her. A surge of confidence within her and a moment of recklessness later, she placed a firm hand on the prince's upper arm. "You are going to kill him. Leave him."

Aarush's bloodshot eyes went to her for a second, intense rage shimmering in those attractive pair of orbs. "Do you think I fucking care?" he hissed. Centering his focus on the gasping Balwant Singh, he screamed again, "How did you let this happen, you utter fool?"

Balwant Singh's feeble voice floated in their ears. "They... blood... he... they did..." He coughed again as his face scrunched up in pain with a bright tinge of crimson highlighting his struggle for every breath, and his eyes rolled up.

Shreya was coerced into applying pressure to tug Aarush's hands away from the poor man's throat. "Stop!" she yelled. "Leave him. Right now!"

Aarush was taken aback by the force and certitude with which she spoke, and he peered at her. She was as angry as him, breathing as rashly out of infuriation as him, glowering at him and challenging him to back down. The pool of ferocity glittering in her otherwise cheerful eyes had him confounded. His hold around Balwant Singh loosened, and he took a step back.

Balwant Singh coughed and gasped, holding onto his neck and respiring heavily, taking a minute to calm his racing heart, and allowing the organ to pump blood that would let oxygen propagate properly to every cell in his body.

Shreya sighed in relief and cast a pitiful glance at the troubled man before her hands went to hold the shoulders of a very distressed prince. "Calm down. You would have killed him."

He shrugged her off him. "Stay out of this," he muttered. "And you!" he nearly spat at the royal guard. "Speak! Right now!"

Balwant Singh sniffled and kept his head bowed down, his palms joined together. His weak voice was barely audible over the distant chitter-chatter of the tourists. "I talked to him right before leaving for Rampur. He sounded fine. He told me he..." The guard wheezed. "Apologies, Your Highness." Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he continued. "He told me he was ready to serve the throne, and he was going to await my presence in his house. One hour. That's all it took me to go from Suryagarh to Rampur. And... and..."