•||Book one in Royalty series ||•
The Tales of Rakshatra #1
Zravasaya X Tanirika
When one of the strongest kingdom on earth is abducted ruthlessly by the barbarian prince from the Romania, The other kingdoms make a decision of signing a treaty with...
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You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?" But after all I've said, please don't forget
All my friends are heathens, take it slow Wait for them to ask you who you know Please don't make any sudden moves You don't know the half of the abuse
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Fasten your seatbelts! This is one of the longest chapter of this book and most important one. We have reached the darker universe of Royal verse.
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"You could tell me the stories of handsome men you met in Asaka"
Meglos suggested with his signature smirk lingering on his face. Right now, he and Tanirika were travelling to the kamdhenu temple positioned on the outskirts of The royal kingdom of Rakshatra.
"I am a princess Meglos, our beauty was hidden from men other than our close family and trusted individuals. "
"That's so boring. My whole life will be wasted if I missed the beautiful women I met. And you, you have never allowed other men to look at your pretty face" he exclaimed fastening his horse.
The wind blew pleasantly as they both travelled with a few troops of soldiers towards their destination. The villages appeared smaller and happier making Tanirika exclaim in happiness. The prosperity and calmness residing around the streets of Rakshatra made her feel like a proud Queen.
She smiled mischievously staring at a little boy who stood near a well, sucking his thumb. The little boy ran away feeling shy. She laughed lightly making meglos look in the direction which intimated a laugh from his friend.
Tanirika was grateful that she was not dressed in one of her heavy embroidered lehenga and gold jewelleries. She was wearing a plain lilac black cotton lehenga with her nuptial chain, a few silver bangles and her gold Borla resting on her forehead with a few inks of the vermilion peeping out of her hairline. To the outsiders, she looked like a lady from a rich household maybe a wife of a zamindar (Landlord) or sarpanch.
