ROYAL HIGHNESS

60 The King Declares His Love

“Surya Bharam” —

The palace dining hall was unusually calm that morning, the kind of calm only a royal household experienced before the day’s duties began. Sunlight filtered through the carved jharokha windows, resting over the long table where silver plates reflected the warm glow. Servants moved silently, placing the last dishes, while the fragrance of saffron milk and hot parathas lingered in the air.

Amyardh entered last.

He didn’t greet anyone.
He didn’t sit with his usual lazy royalty.
He walked in with a heaviness… a fire… something that made even the air tighten around him.

His mother, Kamakshi, looked up, already sensing the shift.

Amyardh sat. He didn’t touch the food.
His fingers tapped the edge of the table once—steady, firm, like he was grounding himself before saying something that would change the dynamics of the entire bloodline.

Then, in a voice that was too calm for the storm inside him, he said—

“Mujhe shaadi karni hai.”

The spoon slipped from his father’s hand, hitting the plate with a metallic echo that rang through the hall like a warning bell.
Kamakshi eyes widened. She pressed her palm to her chest softly, stunned but excited.

“Wah… kya subah hai,” she whispered, her voice trembling with sudden joy. “Finally.”
She leaned forward, smiling too quickly. “Bache, maine ek ladki dekhi hui hai. Bahut sanskaari, bahut—”

Before she could finish, Amyardh cut her off, his voice deep, unwavering.

“Maine ladki pasand kar li hai.”

Those words dropped heavier than stone.

His father straightened slowly, suspicion replacing confusion.
Kamakshi blinked twice, as if she needed a moment to process what her son—her king—had just said.

Amyardh didn’t wait for their reaction.
He looked at them with the steadiness of someone who had already fought every inner battle.

“Ovie Khanna.”

Kamakshi's breath caught. Her hand froze mid-air, gripping her dupatta.
His father’s face drained of color, then reddened violently with disbelief.

“Paagal ho gaye ho kya?” His father’s voice cracked like thunder—raw anger, insult, shock all tangled inside it. “Tum… kya keh rahe ho?”

Kamakshi shook her head rapidly, refusing to accept the name.

“Amyardh… beta… mazak kar rahe ho na? Batao ki mazak hai. Subah subah aise—”

But there was no humor in his eyes.
No softness.
No hesitation.

“I love her,” he said quietly.

For a fraction of a second, the world stopped moving.

Then the explosion came.

His father pushed his chair back so violently it nearly toppled.
He marched to Amyardh, fury burning in every step.

Before anyone could blink—

**SLAP.**

A sharp, brutal strike landed across Amyardh’s face.
The sound echoed through the hall—loud enough that servants outside froze mid-task.

Amyardh’s head tilted slightly—not out of weakness, but restraint.
His jaw tightened. His nostrils flared. His eyes—those cold, royal, controlled eyes—flamed blood red.

He turned back to look at his father.
Unblinking.
Unmoving.
Unbowed.

His father’s voice shook with rage.