Page 206 of Claimed By the Maharaja
The world narrowed.
The passage was tight, cool, silent. He crawled until it opened into a small cave chamber.
Darkness. Stone. Stillness.
He sat with his back against the wall, his head lowered to his knees, his hands pressed over his ears even though the sound was already gone. His mind kept echoing anyway.
He focused on the drip of water from the ceiling.
One. Two. Three.
Breathe.
He would stay until the numbers calmed him down.
He didn't know how long he stayed.
Then he heard his mother’s voice. Calm. Controlled.
“Bharat.”
He didn’t answer.
She called again.
Silence.
“He shuts down, Rani Ma,” the nanny said, her voice frantic. “When there's too much—”
The guards tried, but the passage was barely wide enough for a child.
Then a small girl’s voice cut in.
“I can go.”
A few moments later, he felt someone settle down beside him in the dark. He flinched when her hand brushed his.
She spoke.
“You're missing mango ice cream.”
Her voice was childish but clear. Not loud. Not pitying. Just a fact.
She didn't know words like overstimulation. She didn't understand thresholds or triggers.
She only knew he was hiding.
No one had ever spoken to him that way before. As though hiding were simply something he was doing, and ice cream was simply something he was missing, and both of those things were just facts, neither more important than the other.
He didn't respond.
She nudged his arm.
He lifted his head slightly. Just enough to look at her. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and the small crack in the cave filtered the sunlight enough to see her.
Recognition flickered.
He knew her. He had seen her that morning in the palace fountain, covered in mud, laughing, hair tangled, the staff scandalized around her.
