| 𝔉𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔡 | Serialized Spotlight - AmbassadorsIN |
Book 1 in the SURYAGARH ROYALS series.
Suryagarh Fort.
In the heart of the desert state of Rajasthan, a 900-year-old fort, a 500-year-old family feud, a 300-year-old portrait, and the thir...
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This is the first volume of The Cursed Princess of Suryagarh and the first installation in the SURYAGARH ROYALS series.
This started off as a novella entry to the ONC India 2021 contest, and this book secured second place too, but as time went by, I started getting more and more ideas surrounding the myths and fables and magic that Suryagarh could potentially offer. Thus, this rewritten and highly adventurous novel needed to be helmed.
To all my old readers, I apologize for making you wait for so long and then going for a rewrite that can probably make you think that this is going to be repetitive. I am not going to lie, the first part will have components from the previous version that you will find familiar. But I will still insist you read it in its entirety because of how utterly intricate and webbed this plot is going to be. Mystery, magic, drama, adventure, action, and romance, all strung together in a documented format.
To all my new readers, welcome to Suryagarh. It's going to be a hell of a ride, and you are going to love it!
***
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She had a new skip in her step as she went around the dining area, humming tunes of a song she had heard a couple of days ago. She was using the flickering flames of a candle to light up the other tapers on the ornate candelabra atop the embellished and decorative mantelpiece. Her eyes halted on the portrait hanging on the wall. The high and mighty Abhimanyu Singh Chauhan—her ancestor—had a sword in one of his hands, a feral expression etched on his features, and blood dripping from a gash on his forearms while he towered over the enemy and drove a knife through the foe's heart.
He entered the dining area and noticed his sister going around the place, lighting candles when it was barely noon. "Uh, why are you lighting candles now? It's the middle of the day."
She glimpsed behind her and pursed her lips. "Uh, because I am bored."
He chortled and plopped on a regal chair at the head of the dining table. "Do you want to go somewhere? New York? Paris? Santorini?"
Her eyes lit up. "Vacation?"
He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
She heaved a sigh and looked away. "Take me to Ranakgarh."
The scowl appearing on his face was severe. "No."
She let out a rash breath, peeping at her elder brother with widened and glossy eyes, discerning how he was busy looking everywhere but at her. "Do they really hate me that much?"
He clenched his fists. "Yes."
She sucked in the air and glanced away, blinking to hide the sheen of moisture in her eyes. "Do they know I loathe them too?"
He gulped. "Yes," he muttered.
A gush of wind entered through the arch-shaped windows, extinguishing the flames of all the candles in a whoosh. "Oops!"
He saw how she dropped the taper on the mantelpiece and went away, mumbling something about fetching a matchbox from the kitchen. He rose up from the chair and ambled to the fancy mantelpiece. The extinguished tapers were causing him immense curiosity in the pit of his stomach, and he was drawn to them instantly. The burnt and blackened tip of the wick stared back at him, and he could swear they were whispering something, words that were incomprehensible to him but he could still grasp the rough idea behind the discourse.
A tingling sensation developed across both his hands, and he was coerced into peering at the inside of his palms with a small crease between his brows. The tickles under his skin increased in intensity until warmth shot across his arms, seeping into his heart, spreading across his body, and inching to reach every cell of the fingers of his hands. Before he could comprehend a single thing, a raging inferno developed in his palms. He was literally ablaze, but he was not burning. Neither was he discomfited.
He was surprised and alarmed out of his wits, and his instinct was to take a couple of steps back and wipe his hands on his jeans. The tingling vanished. So did the conflagration. Staggering backward, he peeked at his palms again. Neither a single burn painted his skin nor were his hands red with pain.
He blinked again. "You are turning into a freak."
***
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