ᴅɪʟ ᴋɪ ɴᴀʏɪ ᴅʜᴀᴅᴋᴀɴ

c h a p t e r 8

Parwati entered the palace kitchens, her footsteps echoing against the bustling ambiance of clanking pots and chopping knives. Though no stranger to the inner workings of a kitchen, this scene was unfamiliar—these weren't her usual surroundings, and the faces laboring here were strangers to her. As she stood, observing the organized chaos, her fingers unconsciously toyed with the delicate ring adorning her finger, a telltale sign of her nerves.

Interrupting her reverie, an older woman, hair sprinkled with a dusting of white, approached with a curious yet authoritative air. "And who are you?" she asked.

"Parwati" came the simple reply, tinged with uncertainty.

"Parwati?" The woman's confusion was palpable, her eyes flitting between Parwati and her luxurious clothing. "You're not a servant, are you?"

A small smile played on Parwati's lips. "Oh no, I'm Rajkumari Parwati...of Paudhagarh?" she clarified, her tone almost questioning.

Recognition dawned in the woman's eyes as she reevaluated Parwati's presence. "Well, Rajkumari, what brings you here?" she asked, her tone softening. "Are you hungry?" she added, a hint of hospitality in her voice.

Realizing the need for a proper introduction, the woman continued, "Oh my apologies, Rajkumari, I'm Gayatri Ma, the kitchen head."

Parwati quickly intervened before any assumptions were made. "Actually, Gayatri Ma, I'm here to join the kitchen staff" she explained earnestly, preempting any offers of a meal.

"Truly?" Gayatri Ma's expression shifted to one of intrigue.

Parwati nodded, her determination evident. "I used to head the kitchen staff back in Paudhagarh."

"Alright then, let's see what you've got, Rajkumari" Gayatri Ma responded, her tone welcoming yet expectant.

"Please, call me Parwati" she insisted, eager to shed the formality and dive into her new role.

As Parwati delved into the task of preparing Pulav, memories of her late husband, Maharaj Abhay Verma, eagerly anticipating her meals flooded her mind. It was during those moments that he would shower her with rare compliments, momentarily transforming into the loving husband she had once hoped for.

She hadn't exaggerated when she told Gayatri Ma about her previous role in leading kitchen staff, an unusual position for a queen, but not so surprising in a household where the Maharaj had three wives in total. Parwati, being his third wife and chosen queen, had often found herself at odds with the first two wives, who had resented her position and sought to undermine her authority at every turn.

To them, Parwati was a constant reminder of their own failed attempts to secure the coveted title of queen. They couldn't comprehend that her ascension to the throne was not due to her own scheming, but rather because of her compliant nature—a trait she wasn't proud of, but one she had learned out of necessity.

Married to Abhay at the tender age of 20, Parwati had been naive and unaware of the harsh realities of the world. However, after enduring his cruel punishments for any sign of defiance, she had learned to relinquish her own desires and submit to his will.

"Parwati?" Gayatri Ma called.

Startled, Parwati looked up, only to wince as the knife slipped, nicking her finger.

"Take it easy, Parwati beta" Gayatri Ma chided gently, concern etched on her face. "Here, let me finish chopping while you tend to that finger." With a reassuring nod, she ushered Parwati away.

~✦✼✦✼✦~

As Vikram strolled back to his chambers, the tantalizing aroma drifting from the palace kitchens halted his steps. Intrigued, he followed the scent, his senses heightened by the promise of a delicious meal.