Rashmika, she was stepping into a fairytale wedding, until everything she knew was shattered. On the day she was to marry the man she loved, he betrayed her and attacked her kingdom. Heartbroken and desperate, she ran, choosing death over a life of defeat. Raghuveer, the powerful prince, saves her, but neither knows her past, and the secrets around them are dangerous. With her memories gone, and a kingdom full of lies, they will face a love born from anger, hate, and fate. She doesn't remember who she is. He doesn't know who she was. But destiny, destiny never forgets. What will happen when her memory comes back? What will she do when she realizes the truth? How will she believe that all this time she was in love with her enemy? Can love survive betrayal, lies, and fate? "You knew, didn't you?" My voice trembled, torn between fury and heartbreak as I raised the blade. "Rashmika, calm yourself-" Before he could finish, I pressed the dagger's tip against his throat. "Answer me!" I hissed, eyes scorching into his. A tense silence swallowed the room, broken only when he admitted in a strained whisper, "Yes, I knew." His hand seized mine, firm, but I did not flinch. I pressed the dagger harder, the sharp blade biting into flesh, crimson drops sliding down his neck. "I hate you, Yuvraj Raghuveer Singh Rajput," I hissed, voice trembling, tears carving paths down my cheeks. When he reached up, as if to wipe them away, as if I would let him touch me, I shoved him back with the force of every betrayal, every shattered trust, letting my rage explode, fierce and unrelenting. "I will never forgive you!" I screamed, storming out of the chamber, the metallic jingle of my anklets ringing like a warning with every step.

Volume ll of Historical series. People believed, the Queen betrayed the king. They were infuriated, and wanted to punish her. Hence, she was given life imprisonment. Until, the king, everyone thought was died, came back and sat on his throne. Not everyone was happy by his presence. He got the hold of Pratapgarh, once again and decided to make his kingdom prosperous like before. King Abhiraj was well aware of the betrayal he faced by his most love woman. He ordered to bring her back in front of him. She deserved to be punished due to several allegations on her. He asked his subjects for a ten-day reprieve. He had many questions to ask from her, many truths to know. Was their love that weak? Did he not love her enough? Did he not deserve to be loved by anyone? This time, hatred was on its peak. Misunderstanding had taken root between the two of them. Who betrayed whom? Every question was waiting for an answer. Everyone was stunned when one by one the enemies removed their false masks. Conclusion was only destruction. Their love was unwritten, unknown and never-trusted by many. Embers of unwritten love. ..... Volume 2 royal series. Volume 1- Bride of crowned prince. This book is not standalone.

A tragedy separates two destined royal heirs for a decade, only for fate to bring them back together under extraordinary circumstances. On Veer's 16th birthday, his older brother-the crowned prince-is assassinated by enemies targeting the royal family. The loss changes Veer's life, sending him into exile abroad for safety and leaving him haunted by guilt. When he returns at 26, hardened and cynical, he reunites with Princess Aadhira, the innocent yet resilient woman he was fated to marry. Their reunion is anything but smooth as love, duty, and redemption intertwine in this tale of destiny and courage. Tropes in the Story Childhood Betrothal Grumpy-Skeptic x Sunshine-Innocent Heroine Saves the Hero Slow Burn Romance Prince Veer Singh (Male Lead) Age: 26 Personality: Veer is a charming and confident prince with a sharp mind and a charismatic aura. However, beneath his suave demeanor lies a deep wound caused by the assassination of his elder brother, Aryan. This tragedy has made him skeptical of faith, destiny, and human connections. Veer is fiercely protective of those he loves but struggles to let himself be vulnerable. His sense of humor and quick wit often mask the pain he carries. Princess Aadhira Rathore (Female Lead) Age: 24 Personality: Aadhira is an innocent yet resilient young woman with a heart full of hope and compassion. She has an unshakeable faith in destiny and believes in the power of goodness, even in the darkest times. Though sheltered as a royal, Aadhira is far from naive; she possesses a quiet strength and bravery that surprises everyone around her. Her kindness and optimism make her a beacon of light in Veer's life.

Part 2 of the Kalika Empire series. Saahiti, the daughter of Mahamatya Kumarasena, is a jewel among women with great intellect. All of Ambikapuram knows about her knowledge and intellect. No man ever dares to approach her directly to express interest in her due to fear of incurring the Emperor's wrath. Saahiti is his favorite child. Abhijit cannot be bound by rules of the Emperor. He doesn't fear incurring his wrath. But will Saahiti, whose life is largely entwined in Vedanta and Philosophy, find her way to live in the world of politics, murder plots, and kitchen politics?

Aaryavati is your regular Queen. Innocent, pure, happy-go-lucky, always indulgent in womanly pleasures, illiterate, hopelessly romantic and daydreamer- Or that's what the King believes. What he doesn't know that behind the mask of an innocent Woman, lies a badass, clever, scheming yet righteous Queen who struggles to survive (and thrive) in the patriarchal society. What happens when her husband goes abroad to face the war and her kingdom falls into the chaos of threats from the other kingdoms? Will she be able to shed off her mask and save her kingdom timely? Will she allow the world to discover that she is a woman of substance or merely work her way through the shadow of her meek reputation? P.S. I would again like to stay true to my word. My stories doesn't possess emotional dramas. Or any negativity. Women are empowered and men are highly compassionate. I hope you will find my work interesting and positively refreshing. Cover credit:- My friend @DaveyHawkes

A fierce princess. A ruthless Mughal king. Bound by a cold, political marriage neither wants. In ancient India's royal courts, love will have to fight through silence, fire, and forbidden desire. Historical romance. Slow burn. Dark passion. _____________________ The courtier had laughed. Too loud. Too long. And Siyamika had smiled-just for a moment, just out of politeness. But that was enough. Later that night, the palace corridors whispered with the sound of heavy footsteps. Her chamber door slammed shut. She barely had time to rise before he was in front of her. Zayyan. Cloaked in emerald, his jaw tight, eyes burning with something she couldn't name-but it wasn't cold. Not this time. "Was he amusing, rajkumari?" His voice was quiet. Deadly. "Did his jokes warm your lonely little evenings?" Siyamika stepped back, her spine brushing the carved pillar behind her bed. "I only smiled. It was-" "Too much," he growled. "Too soft. Too pretty. Too tempting." He reached for her chin, fingers curling firm, almost rough. She gasped-more from the closeness than the grip. "You are mine." "And if I have to remind you..." his gaze dropped to her lips, "...I will." _____________________________ Then he kissed her. Not with affection. Not with tenderness With anger. With control. With punishment. Her hands pushed at his chest-resisting, struggling-but he didn't move. Didn't stop until he had tasted every ounce of the fire he tried to bury. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged. Hers was stolen. "Let that be your last smile for another man," he said, voice like thunder. "Or next time, I won't stop there."

"Untie your lehenga," he said. "Huh?" I blinked, pretending I hadn't heard. Or maybe hoping I hadn't. "I said..." His gaze slid over me, heavier than touch, "untie the string of your lehenga." "And?" I asked, trying to match his tone. I hated how breathless I sounded. "And..." He whispered, "Insert your fingers down there. Then lick it slowly. Show me if your little jungle medicine works. Maybe I'll join you later." My hands froze. What? My eyes snapped to his. He was watching me-like a hawk that had already stripped away every feather I'd used to hide. He knows. He knows. 𝗛𝗲 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝘀. ❖ She was never meant to be his bride. 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘆𝗮 𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗲 was the jewel of Rajgarh - a woman born of fire, trained in every royal art, even the forgotten ones whispered in hushed tones by dancing courtesans. He was meant to destroy her. 𝗥𝘂𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗵 𝗦𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗵, the ruthless crown prince of Devgarh, didn't want love. He wanted vengeance. She was the sister of the man who broke his own sister's heart. And so he took her. As a bride. As a weapon. As a wound. But what he didn't see coming... was the ache she awakened in him. The way her silence burned deeper than screams. The way her defiance tasted of poison and honey. Now the war is no longer on the battlefield. What happens when the enemy begins to crave her? This isn't a love story. It's a slow-burning fire. And a marriage soaked in secrets, storms, and stolen breaths. "She will break... the day I stop touching her with hate." And when he finally touches her with something else- Will she still be his enemy?

"Humpe vishvaas karti hai aap?" He asked, his voice deep, touched with something possessive, something intimate. (Do you trust me?) His fingers found the lace at her back, toying with it slowly. His eyes never left hers-watchful, patient. It wasn't just about trust. It was a question laced with heat, with meaning. There was a pause. Not of doubt, but of weight. Then her lips curved in a quiet smile, soft as a petal opening to dawn. "Khudse bhi adhik." (More than myself.) That was all he needed. He lifted her without a word-her giggle light, her bangles chiming. Her ghagra fluttered as he carried her inside. The bed waited, simple and quiet. He laid her down like a prayer, eyes never leaving hers. Their lips met-slow, aching. Her fingers undressed him. Clothes fell. Skin met skin. Under the sheet, he moved with her-gentle, deep, worshipful. She gasped, clung to him, whispered his name. One rhythm. One afternoon. One unspoken truth.