𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

36⚚ My highness

Someone screamed 'Update'... Here it is

Vencie POV:

Viraj said, "Daksh, take Rithvik Bhai home. Ash Bhai and Gaurav Bhai, stay here in case anything happens. I'll take Princess to the palace and be back first thing in the morning, yeah?"

Everyone nodded in agreement. With a final glance around the room, Viraj stepped out, cradling Amaira gently in his arms. She nestled against his chest like she belonged nowhere else, her small frame completely enveloped by his protective hold.

Her eyelids drooped heavily, exhaustion from the long day—and lingering soreness from their passionate night—making it impossible for her to stay awake.

Viraj's jaw clenched as he carried her to his bike. Carefully, he secured her, letting her rest comfortably against him while he drove in silence. The cool night breeze brushed against them, but Amaira didn't stir.

She slept soundly, attaching herself to him like a magnet, as though even in her subconscious she sought the warmth and comfort only he could provide.

The palace gates loomed ahead, and Viraj eased to a stop. Without disturbing her, he gently lifted her once more, taking slow, deliberate steps inside.

His expression was unreadable, eyes hard with the weight of countless thoughts swirling in his mind. He tucked Amaira into bed with practiced care, pulling the soft covers over her and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Viraj lay on his side, rubbing slow circles on Amaira's back, hoping to soothe the soreness from earlier. She shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into his chest as soft breaths escaped her lips.

Her peaceful face was a stark contrast to the chaos roaring inside his mind. He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, but despite the calm in the room, his thoughts churned violently like an unrelenting storm.

The pieces of this twisted puzzle refused to align neatly in his head. A king willing to sell his own daughter for kingdom benefits—it didn't sit right with him, no matter how much he replayed the events.

What kind of father signs a contract for something so heinous? Viraj's jaw clenched at the thought. And then there were the girls—twenty of them, kidnapped from villages scattered across the kingdom. The mention of foreign accents and ships bound for an unknown destination gnawed at him.

If the rumors about human trafficking were true, then this wasn't just some rogue operation. It had structure, backing, and more resources than he initially assumed.

There was no way something so large-scale could operate without inside help, someone embedded deep within the royal system.

The memory of that old uncle resurfaced in his mind—the man who had whispered the name of the one allegedly responsible for killing Viraj's parents. Could that be linked to this scheme?

If that claim was true, it meant a mole had existed in the kingdom for years, quietly orchestrating tragedy after tragedy.

What if that same person had a hand in the downfall of his family and kingdom? And if so, why target Amaira next?

A chill ran down his spine. Was she a pawn in a much larger game?

His fists clenched under the covers as rage simmered beneath the surface. No. He wouldn't allow Amaira to be pulled into this mess any deeper.

If someone had dared to plot against her or her kingdom, they were already as good as dead. He would burn every last stronghold, interrogate every suspect, and ensure those involved paid with blood.

But he needed answers. And fast.

The X-King. His father in law.

Viraj's jaw tightened. He had to confront that man again. Whether by force or persuasion, the former king has to spill the truth about his involvement—or lack thereof—in this entire conspiracy.