Page 55 of Claimed By the Maharaja
The palace attendants saw them and greeted Rani Suchitra with a bow. One of them quietly slipped through the doors to announce their presence.
Yamini glanced at Bharat, who appeared calm. Rani Suchitra also appeared calm. But Yamini was anything but calm.
The doors opened a moment later.
“Please come inside,” the palace attendant requested.
The room inside smelled faintly of incense.
And seated at the center was Rani Vasundara Devi.
She was smaller than Yamini remembered seeing many years ago. Her frame was thin but unyielding, wrapped in a dark silk saree with a gold border. Her hair was completely white, pulled back into a severe bun. Her eyes were sharp, cold, and assessing.
Bharat moved forward without hesitation. He bent and touched his grandmother’s feet. Yamini followed immediately, lowering herself beside him and touching her feet in the traditional gesture of respect.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then the thick wooden cane with a golden handle struck the floor.
“You may rise,” Rani Vasundara Devi said, her voice clearly displeased.
Yamini straightened slowly.
The Rani’s sharp gaze moved on her. “I remember you. A wild child who always laughed too loudly and ran around the palace grounds like a street urchin. Even as you grew, you didn’t learn the manners of how a royal princess conducts herself. Your true colors showed when you eloped with a commoner right before the wedding day.”
Yamini’s cheeks burned because the words were true. She had been wild while growing up and even until her late teens.
The old woman then looked at Bharat. “You have shamed this family,” she said flatly.
Yamini’s breath caught.
“You married a disgraced woman,” the Rani continued. “A woman who ran away from her duty.”
Yamini wasn’t shocked by the harsh words. She had known that Rani Vasundara Devi was orthodox and a stickler for tradition. Yamini’s own grandmother was the same. The Gaur matriarch was a terror that even her dominant father bowed to.
“Five years ago, I wasn’t happy with the alliance either,” the Rani Vasundara went on. “Even then, I warned your mother that power matters along with bloodlines. This girl’s family has the bloodlines but no powerful legacy worthy of a maharani.”
Rani Suchitra remained silent, her face composed.
“I allowed it then,” Rani Vasundara said coldly, “only because your mother insisted, because of her foolish friendship with this girl’s mother. And look how this girl repaid us with humiliation instead of showing us gratitude.”
The wooden cane hit the floor twice.
“I will not accept her as the Jogra maharani,” Rani Vasundara’s voice boomed.
The words landed heavily in the room.
Yamini held her breath at the finality of the words.
She knew the power the elders held in royal families. No decision was made without their support or approval. Not even Yamini’s dominating father dared to go against his mother’s wishes.
Yamini expected Bharat Jogra to bow down to his grandmother’s words.
She snuck a look at him.
His handsome face was cold and unreadable.
“Whether you accept her or not is irrelevant,” he said, his words calm but absolute. “Princess Yamini is my wife. And she is now the Jogra maharani.”
