Page 244 of Claimed By the Maharaja
The gallery was full.
Conversations rose and fell beneath the vaulted ceiling, interrupted every now and then by the sound of cameras clicking.
Yamini stood near the center of it all, slightly nervous but also immensely proud.
The theme wasRoyal Women: Power in Every Form.
Photographers moved through the crowd, art critics stood before the larger frames with thoughtful expressions, and old royal families spoke in lowered, appreciative voices.
On the far wall hung the photograph that had silenced the room when the curtains first lifted.
Rani Suchitra Devi sat in Yamini’s palace studio chair, light falling across her profile. The image had been composed of four subtle panels layered into a single frame.
Queen. Philanthropist. Political strategist. Mother.
Her eyes were sharp, unyielding, warm, and protective.
The world saw royalty.
Yamini had captured the woman.
Beside it hung another portrait. Sanjana, Maharani of Devara, sat wearing the Devara jewels along with a stethoscope draped around her neck. Royalty, intelligence, and compassion balanced in one frame.
There was a tribal queen from the northern hills, photographed against raw earth and open sky.
A widowed matriarch from the west who ran a textile collective employing hundreds of rural women stood photographed against her workshop.
And near the end stood Yamini’s most personal frame. Her late great-grandmother.
The fisherwoman who had once rowed through rough waters wearing the emerald fish pendant that now rested against Yamini’s throat. In the restored photograph, the pendant gleamed against weathered skin and steady eyes.
Yamini had spent three weeks restoring that photograph. She had never met her great-grandmother. She felt, looking at the finished frame, that she had.
Pooja came to stand beside Yamini, carrying two glasses of sparkling water.
“I told you this would be huge,” Pooja said.
“You tell me everything will be huge.”
“And I am usually right.”
Yamini smiled and accepted the glass.
Across the gallery, Yamini’s mother stood smiling while speaking to Rani Suchitra. Yamini’s father stood with her brother, speaking with obvious pride as though he had always supported her dreams. Once, that would have hurt. Now it simply amused her.
Ram and Sanjana had arrived with their infant son. Sanjana looked radiant despite slight shadows under her eyes that came with lack of sleep from being a new mother. Ram Devara held his son with a practiced ease as though the world didn’t think of him and his brothers as ruthless and fearsome royals.
Samar and Viraj were conversing with a group of businessmen and politicians. Both Samar and Viraj had congratulated her warmly.
Yamini felt touched that Bharat’s family, who now considered her part of their family, paused their busy lives to be present on an occasion that was important to her.
Yamini’s gaze moved beyond them.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Bharat looked devastatingly handsome in black. He looked controlled and quietly powerful.
The crowd naturally shifted around him, though his attention wasn't on the people speaking eagerly beside him.
