HIS FIRST QUEEN

Chapter 19 [Nayantara]

The moment I saw him, I felt my heart seize—Anshuman, here in Indravathi, standing brazenly in the hall, dressed like one of the diplomats he so often scorned. His sharp gaze found mine in the sea of courtiers, and for the briefest instant, the world fell silent. My stomach churned with emotions I had spent weeks suppressing. Fury. Grief. Love, bitter and jagged, like a forgotten relic that cuts your hand when touched.

But I didn't flinch. The court watched me, and I could not afford to show weakness.

His words were a dagger sheathed in diplomacy. My instincts screamed at me to reject him, but the pragmatist in me knew we had to talk. I had spent weeks outplaying him, predicting his moves, countering his strategies. Now he was here, forcing my hand. I nodded curtly, leading him to the anteroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, the pretence fell away, and the quiet tension suffocated us both.

"What do you want, Maharaj Anshuman?" I demanded, arms crossed to steady myself. His presence was unbearable—too close, too raw. And yet a part of me, treacherous and hidden, wanted to listen.

"How are you?" he asked, moving closer to cup my face.

"As happy as a free woman can be," I moved back, "speak your purpose of dressing up as a diplomat you so easily scorn."

His reply surprised me, "I want you back. Not as a prisoner. As my queen, as you have always been."

I bit back a sharp retort, my heart racing. How dare he come here with empty promises? After everything, he expected me to forget? But he continued, his voice carrying something unfamiliar. Vulnerability. "I've come to offer a compromise."

A compromise. The word hung in the air between us, dangerous and tempting. His desperation to make amends was palpable, but I could still see the shadows of the man who had torn us apart.

"You think this can be solved with a few words?" I scoffed, my voice harsher than I intended.

"No," he admitted, his gaze locking onto mine, unyielding. "But I believe in us. I believe there's still something between us worth saving."

I felt my defences cracking. Damn him. He always knew how to find the cracks in my armour.

"And what makes you think I would return willingly?" I asked though the question felt more like a plea to myself than a demand for him.

"Because I know you," he said softly, stepping closer. "I know you still care for me beneath the anger and defiance. I'm asking you to return not because you must but because you want to. Because our child deserves both its parents."

Our child. The words tore through me, stirring an ache I hadn't dared acknowledge.

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how selfish he was. He thought bringing up our unborn child would change everything? But his words had ignited something in me. Not the love I once felt for him, but a deeper, more complicated truth.

I didn't want to raise our child alone. But I also couldn't forget what he had done.

Before I could respond, a firm knock on the door interrupted us. I turned, grateful for the reprieve, and saw one of my father's guards standing at the threshold, his expression tense.

"Rajkumari-ji(Princess), Yuvraj Hemant of Rudravaya, has arrived. He seeks an audience."

I froze, my pulse quickening. Hemant. Father had summoned him weeks ago, hoping for his support. He was one of the few powerful enough to rival Anshuman—both in strength and influence. His arrival had been expected, but not today. Not in this precarious moment.