A Glimpse of Red

22

Ram Singh entered the grand hall of the Rewar palace with a confident stride. It wasn't his first visit—he had accompanied the late King Ashok, Princess Nitya's grandfather, numerous times to meet his dear friend. The palace, with its opulent halls and regal atmosphere, was familiar territory for him.

As his eyes fell upon King Pratham, seated on the throne in a navy three-piece suit, Ram Singh immediately bowed, his gesture deliberate and exaggerated. Pratham acknowledged him with a curt nod, his expression carefully neutral.

Ram Singh then moved towards King Daksh, lowering himself dramatically to touch his feet. The onlookers exchanged puzzled glances, murmuring at this unexpected display. Daksh, though surprised, stood and embraced him warmly.

"Ram Singh," Daksh said, his voice kind, "you are like a son to me."

Ram Singh stepped back slightly, his face painted with an almost theatrical mix of emotion. "Bade Rawal," he said, his voice quivering as though rehearsed, "you have no idea how long I have waited for this moment."

He turned next to Raj Rawal, bowing deeply, lingering just long enough to be noticed. Raj Rawal acknowledged him with a faint nod. King Pratham, observing the scene with a growing sense of suspicion, finally addressed him. "Ram Singh, what brings you here? "

Ram Singh straightened, adopting a sorrowful expression that seemed almost too perfect. He turned toward Princess Nitya, his eyes glistening with unfallen tears. "After my late King Ashok passed," he began, his voice heavy with grief, "I was assigned to serve King Ranjith."

He paused dramatically, his gaze flickering briefly toward Raj Rawal, ensuring all eyes were on him. "But after that... incident," he said, letting his voice break at just the right moment, "my duties changed. I was assigned to Princess Nitya, and she became my master."

Theatrically, he allowed a tear to slide down his cheek before continuing, "I swore an oath to serve her faithfully, and Rajput estate holds no place for me anymore now. My life is devoted to Princess Nitya. If I fail her, I have no reason to live, Hukum."

The Queen Mother Durgavati, watching his exaggerated display with an arched brow, spoke sharply. "Ram Singh, my house is not a guesthouse where you can come and go as you please."

Ram Singh immediately fell to his knees, bowing dramatically before her. Another tear fell, perfectly timed, as he clasped his hands together. "Forgive me, Queen mother," he said, his voice trembling as though on cue. "My life is dedicated to Princess Nitya. If I cannot serve her, I will end my life."

Pratham's gaze shifted to Nitya, suspicion flickering in his eyes. He knew who had orchestrated this spectacle. "How is this Rewar's problem?" he asked, his tone cold.

Nitya met his gaze, her expression calm but firm. "I am the Queen of Rewar. Therefore, it is Rewar's problem." She turned to Ram Singh. "Do not worry. Ram Singh will not take even a single grain from the Rewar estate. I am sure he has come well-prepared."

Ram Singh nodded, his face lighting up with gratitude as if on command. "Yes, Ranisa." At his signal, servants entered, carrying baskets filled with a year's supply of rations—wheat, rice, lentils, fruits, and vegetables.

Daksh frowned, clearly unimpressed. "What nonsense is this?" he demanded. "Ram Singh, you will stay here, and all of this will be sent back to Rajputs."

Ram Singh shook his head dramatically. "No, Bade Rawal. Yuvranis is like a daughter to me. I cannot even think of consuming a single grain from Rewar's estate."  Akhil mimicked, his tone dripping with sarcasm in low voice, " Will not take a grain from Rewar, but can live here. "