𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟏𝟑. Plan

Guys, Please make sure to leave comments and share your feedback with me, guys. After reading each comment, I smile widely and laugh all day like a maniac.

･:*࿔.ೃ⋆❀˚༺☆༻°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
I

kshita pov

He told me to go to his floor.

I did not move.

Why would I obey him? Who the hell was he to give me orders? I refuse to take commands from a man who thinks a chin and a suit make him a god. No. Not me.

So I ignored him. I found Aaliya and spent the day hunting for anything that could save me in a pinch — things you only notice when you’re looking for trouble. A chipped vase with a jagged lip that could open skin; a decorative sword on the wall with a weight that meant business; an ornate paperweight heavy enough to bruise a skull. This place was full of pretty dangers. He was royal in the obvious ways — chandeliers like waterfalls, carpets that swallowed sound — but also in the practical, stupid ways: blades hung like trophies, corners carved like teeth.

King of Jaipur, huh? People bow because he looks the part — chiselled jaw, three-day stubble shadowing his face, the kind of smile that’s measured in ledgers. His aura is manufactured menace: expensive cologne, the way he moves like a man who’s never heard the word no. Yes, he looked good. Too good. Like danger dressed for Sunday church.

He had that chiselled jawline, the shadow of three-day stubble painting dominance across his skin. His aura was dark, suffocatingly dominant — the kind that makes people step back without realizing they’ve moved. In those perfect three-piece suits, you could still see the outline of muscles underneath.

Good muscles.
But not impressive.
Nah. He isn’t my type.

My type isn’t the man who thinks the world is his chessboard and women are just pawns.

I let my eyes wander off him and around the place instead, and soon I spotted the kitchen. Food was calling, and unlike his smug orders, I was willing to obey my stomach.

But this palace-sized house, with its fountains and swords on the walls, strangely didn’t have a butler hovering around. Weird. I stepped inside the massive kitchen — and froze.

A girl was already there.

“Hi,” she said softly, turning toward me with that innocent smile. “You remember we met in the morning?”

She was really sweet—like unnaturally sweet, the kind that makes you suspicious whether she’s hiding a knife behind her back or just born with too much sugar in her veins.

“I… I wanted to eat something,” I muttered, suddenly feeling like a guest begging for scraps in this giant palace.

She smiled wider, as if my hunger was the best news she had heard all day.
“Um, the butlers are on holiday. Mom kept some food for me in the dinner room—we three can share.” She pulled out the bowls like it was some grand treasure.

“Why are the butlers on holiday?” I asked, frowning. “Do you handle cooking all alone?”

She nodded, casually tossing back her hair.

 “See, I don’t know how to cook. I only eat salad to maintain my figure. I can cut them, but that’s it. And if I’m too tired, Aakarsh bhaiya does it. He cooks for himself—alone, on his floor. And Rohan, my other cousin, isn’t even in the mansion, he’s in the city somewhere, I don’t know where exactly. The elders all went back to Jaipur, so basically… the youngsters are left here on our own.”