The afternoon sun poured lazily through the carved jaalis of the royal chamber, casting delicate patterns on the marble floor. The palace had grown quiet with the lull of midday—servants dismissed, guards stationed far from the doors, and a hush blanketing the halls. It was Rudra’s doing, and Ruhanika knew it the moment she stepped into her private chamber to find the scent of sandalwood and jasmine thick in the air.
Candles flickered gently, despite the sun, and in the center of the room was a large divan layered in soft silks and furs, inviting and luxurious. At its edge sat a small tray of warm oils and beside it—a silken blindfold.
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