Rags To Royals (Royal #1: Book 1) | ✔

41

-• let's not meet again •-

Words abandon me at the sight of my brother.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" He glances down.

I look down at my hands and realise I'm still holding the bottle of my father's cologne. Quickly putting it back on the dressing table, I wipe my sweaty hands on the end of my saree, buying some time to come up with a plausible response.

"Yeah, I was resting up until now." I start reluctantly. "The room felt a little disorganised so I was just," I trail, relying on him to assume that I was cleaning and not peeping through our father's things.

His narrowed gaze relaxes before he walks in and places a paper bag on the nightstand. "Vivaan sent you these medicines. Take them if you feel worse." He says, turning to leave.

"Uh yeah," I whisper. "Did Agastya made it?"

He stops and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "I'm not sure. They'll make a decision tomorrow and mail it to the school."

"Did we win the game?"

He nods as he opens the door. "Taranya," then he unexpectedly halts and turns to face me. I look at him in attention, waiting for him to finish. "Did he try to contact you again?"

"Who?"

"You know who." He frowns.

I shake my head. "No, he didn't."

"Okay," he mumbles.

"How did you enter the room?" I ask hesitantly. "I mean, I have the card key of dad's room."

He barely looks over his shoulder. "I've a copy of everyone's key in the palace." With that, he walks out, closing the door gently behind him.

Makes sense.

Knowing the authority he has, I wouldn't be surprised if the space station calls him before launching a rocket into the space. Shaking my head at the thought, I pick up my phone and plop down on bed, opening the familiar chat window.

Me: I've got a few things. Should I send you the photos?

His reply comes fairly quick.

M: No. We'll meet tonight as decided and I'll personally transfer the photos to mine.

I let out a troubled breath and toss the phone aside, draping an arm across my face as I prepare to fall asleep. Someone chooses that time to knock on the door. Mourning the death of my slumber, I get off the bed and open the door, surprised to find Vivaan at the doorstep.

He doesn't say anything, instead puts the back of his hand on my forehead. "Did you rest at all?" He frowns down at me.

I shrug.

Holding my hand, he stirs me back to bed and tells me to climb it. I sit comfortably as he pulls over the duvet until my waist and tucks it gently before picking up the paper bag I didn't even bother to check. I watch him take out the medicines and a bottle of syrup.

"Where's Dad?"

"He has a surgery scheduled," he answers, popping two pills in his palm that he asks me to swallow with a glass of water.

I oblige.

"I didn't even know I had fever," I sigh.