❝all is not fair in love and war❞
To ensure the survival of the Mughal Empire, Princess Afsana must form a political marriage in Europe. Amongst her potential suitors stands Louis, Count of Champagne, a man driven by dangerous ambitions that destroy...
Dancing was the one lesson the French tutor could not get the Rajkumari to grasp.
At sea Afsana often blamed the turbulence of the ship, but now on steady land it was obvious that she was not built for this European tradition.
A matter that amused the Count of Champagne greatly as he gave out a laugh every time she missed a step.
"I'd like to take a break, Count Louis." Afsana said eventually, chest heaving.
"You've been needing a break for a while now, Princess Afsana." He smiled.
She shot him a dark look. "I'm glad my struggles amuse you."
A deep laugh erupts from him. It's the sort of laugh that makes the knees of maids quiver, from the bottom of his chest.
"Your French is rather good, your majesty. I'm pleasantly surprised." The Count noted.
Almond eyes level to his darkened green eyes, determined to show herself as fierce. Louis seemed the sort of man that was used to having women bend to his will, but she was not to join the many.
"In our faith, all the sexes are encouraged to gain knowledge." Afsana said. "We don't waste precious time trying to tap our feet together for entertainment."
This also amused him. "Our culture does not seem to sit well with you."
Before the rajkumari could respond, a woman joined the two of them. She had blonde hair twisted in a bun and hands that curled around his arm like a vice.
"Louis, let's go up to your chambers." She said, batting her lashes.
Realising how awkward the entire situation was, the Count fumbled for the right words as he looked between the rajkumari and the woman.
"Erm, Belle, I am little busy at the moment." Louis eventually said.
Belle turned towards the princess in front of her, and her smile widened. "Well, perhaps your lady friend can join us and you can finish talking whilst we all have some fun."
Afsana's jaw fell slack at the appalling suggestion.
Back home, no one would've dared to say thise words out loud, let alone to a member of the royal family.
"I don't think that's appropriate Belle," Louis said. " Why don't you entertain yourself with the food whilst I finish talking to the Princess?"
By the looks of it, Belle is adamant to leave the place only with the Prince at her side so Afsana interjects.
"Oh don't let me keep you, by all means you can go if you must."
The part of her had thought that the Prince would do the honourable thing and stick by his swain, was shocked.
"See? She doesn't mind." Belle said.
"Well then, Princess Afsana, I must retire for the night. It was a pleasure to meet you." He said.
The two of them bowed before walking away.
She had been so busy glaring at the back their heads she didn't even notice Nadim approach her.
"She looks like she knows how to please a man, think you can introduce us?"
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Lubna popped grapes caught another purple grape with her lips as the girl she served paced the chambers.
They were entitled to separate living spaces, but had chosen to remain together for comfort. But as the Rajkumari insulted her suitor for the hundredth time, the lady-in-waiting regretted that decision.
"I've never been so insulted in my whole life!" Afsana said.
"Calm down and stop walking back and forth so much, you're giving me a headache." Lubna said.
The Rajkumari shot her a look but fell onto the couch nonetheless, her mahogany dress folding into awkward bunches.
"And he openly takes pride into the fact that he is no longer a virgin, I mean Astagfirullah!" She continued. "How could I marry someone so sinful, who cares not at all about the consequences in the afterlife? And I was give the impression he was a Roman Catholic as well!"
"If it's a virging you want, I'd opt for Francis." Lubna said.
She'd found the statement hilarious, but her sovereign did not share the feeling.
"This isn't funny. I am meant to marry one of these two, and right now neither seems like a good option."
The lady was not sure if she meant politically or romantically.
Seeing the frustration so clearly written in her friend's face, she almost felt guilty about her teasing. Lubna lifted herself of the couch and walked near Afsana so she could begin to undo her hair from the tight braid.
"Putting aside matters of his virtue, don't you think the Count of Champagne could provide a good alliance? He can make his own decisions, unlike Francis." Lubna said from behind her.
Despite still being angry, the Rajkumari could feel herself easing up as her lady massage her head.
"Despite his liberties, Count is merely a title given to him for being from a certain bloodline."
Lubna stopped working her fingers for a moment, in confusion.
"His cousin is King of Navarre through his wife, which is why Louis is their chosen suitor." The Rajkumari dropped her head on the edge of the couch so Lubna could massage her temple.
If this carried on, she knew she'd soon fall asleep.
And she needed the rest, given how the tired she felt. Tired from the travelling, the unwanted surprises of French court and the insulting behaviour of her suitor.
Just as she was about to sink into oblivion, a series of knocks came to her ear.
Five knocks, a code used for long by Zia, to allert her.
Lubna retreacted her fingers from inside Afsana's mane and reached to open the door. The rajkumari took that time to sit up and crane her neck.
Zia was yet in his white duty attire, his khanda still latched onto his hip.
"I'm sorry, but I have something to give you." He said.
His face was pure utter calmess and in one of his hands he held a piece of paper. At the sight of it, her heart fluttered with hopes of it being correspondence from her parents.
"Come in Zia." She beckoned him. "And lock the door."
The bodyguard shut the door and stepped towards her, letting the letter fall into her open palm.
"I was walking down to my chambers when this servant bumped against me and dropped this on the floor." Zia said. "When i turned to hand this to him, he was gone."
The Rajkumari inspected the seal on the letter. It was not familiar.
It was certainly not a letter from her parents, causing a pang of disappointment. Neither could it be from France or Navarre.
Yet it was addressed to her.
"Who do you believe it's from?" Zia asked.
"Be careful, it may be poisoned." Lubna warned.
The Rajkumari stood, the yalek causing her to drag her feet to the other side of the room where lay the next chest. Below her all clothes was a newly made peshkaj, given to by a noble in Mughal.
She broke the seal of the letter with the curve of it.
Hiding it back, she unfolded the paper and read it's contents.
The one who you wish to bethrode, is promised to another.
