A Glimpse of Red

26

Pratham strode into his private chamber within the grand sandcastle, his hand firmly but gently holding Nitya. With every step, he dismissed the guards, his sharp gaze and commanding aura silencing their inquiries. This was not a moment for prying eyes or curious whispers. He wasn't ready for anyone to see the vulnerable state of his queen. Not yet.

He pushed open the heavy door to his quarters and led Nitya straight to the adjoining bath chamber. The room was dimly lit, warm golden light flickering off the intricately carved walls. The faint scent of rose petals lingered in the air, blending with the calming sound of water gently rippling in the waiting tub.

The bath had been prepared meticulously—lukewarm water filled to the brim, floating petals spread across its surface just as his queen preferred. Every detail screamed care, devotion, and forethought.

Pratham guided Nitya to sit on a low stool near the tub. Her resistance was immediate, her body tense as she began to protest, her words sharp and hurried. But Pratham crouched before her, his knees pressing against the cool floor as he reached for her hands.

"Rani Sa," he said, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

The words struck her like a spell, as they always did. Nitya's protests faltered, her breaths slowing. She stared at him, her stormy eyes softening. Slowly, she settled onto the stool, her movements hesitant but yielding.

Pratham leaned closer, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper yet commanding in its certainty.

"Do you trust me, Rani Sa?"

Nitya drew a shaky breath, her heart warring with her mind. But she couldn't deny the sincerity in his eyes or the unwavering strength in his touch. Finally, she exhaled and replied, her voice quieter than she expected, "Yes."

A flicker of relief crossed Pratham's face before it hardened with resolve. "Good," he murmured, his tone carrying a promise—one that Nitya knew he would keep, no matter the cost.

Pratham's touch was careful, reverent, as he began to remove Nitya's jewelry piece by piece. The clink of bangles against one another echoed softly in the stillness of the chamber. He worked with quiet precision, first her earrings, then her necklace, unfastening each with a gentleness that belied his commanding presence.

When he moved to her saree, his fingers brushed against the fabric, unwrapping it from her frame like he was unveiling something sacred. Nitya didn't flinch or retreat, her trust in him a fortress that no doubt could penetrate. By the time he removed her final layer, there wasn't a trace of hesitation or shyness in her. Pratham had earned her belief, and for the first time in her life, she felt unguarded in the presence of another man.

Without a word, he lifted her effortlessly and placed her into the bathtub, the lukewarm water lapping gently against her skin. Nitya's body sank into the fragrant embrace of rose and lavender petals. Pratham turned to leave, intent on giving her privacy, but before he could step away, her hand shot out and clasped his wrist.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, silence spoke volumes. Her grip wasn't forceful, but it carried a quiet plea. With a sigh, Pratham relented, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the tub.

He reached for the bottle of shampoo, pouring a generous amount into his hands. Leaning forward, he began to massage her scalp, his fingers working through her hair with the care of someone handling something precious. The soothing rhythm of his movements sent a ripple of relaxation through Nitya, her eyes fluttering closed as the tension melted from her body.