Chapter 4: The Prince of Fortune

When I was eight, my mother gave birth to a son.

The whole palace celebrated with flower garlands and trays of ladoos passed around. The drums beat all night long. I watched from the shadows.

She was overjoyed, because apart from the Rani’s legitimate son, the Maharaj had only one other son—my mother’s child, the Prince of Fortune.

She walked the halls as if she floated on clouds, hair adorned with jasmine, laughter ringing through the harem.

At three years old, my brother was named Yuvraj. It was an extraordinary favour.

He wore a little gold crown and toddled around the court. Every lady envied my mother.

From then on, my mother seemed to float on air.

She never touched the ground—her voice was always singing, her eyes sparkling.

Truly, she smiled like a blooming champa every day, holding my brother, her whole being radiant.

I watched from behind pillars, clutching my silent tongue, wishing I could disappear.

I began to dislike her.

Her laughter hurt my ears. I saw how she forgot me the moment my brother cried.

Because no one in the palace dared to offend her, they vented their frustrations on me.

I was the soft target—the silent shadow. The maids sneered, the guards looked away.

One day, Rani Lata suffered grievances at my mother’s quarters. The next, the Fifth Princess pushed me into the palace pond.

The water was cold, weeds brushing against my legs. I flailed, gasping for air. The taste of pond water filled my mouth, weeds tangled my legs, and somewhere in the distance, the temple bell tolled as I sank deeper.

Mute, I couldn’t call for help.

My voice deserted me when I needed it most. I opened my mouth—only bubbles.

When I thought I was about to drown, a young man in white saved me.

He pulled me up, strong arms gripping my shoulders. I blinked, water streaming from my hair, as his gentle eyes looked me over.

I recognised him—he was the Crown Prince’s study companion.

He was known as the brightest boy in the royal pathshala, always helping others, always with a kind word.

A gentle, upright person.

He wrapped his school shawl around my shoulders, smelling faintly of ink and old textbooks. His voice was soft. "Are you alright, Rajkumari?"

He and my Crown Prince brother escorted me back to my mother.

Kabir—my Crown Prince brother—held my hand the whole way, never letting me stumble.

Mother only glanced at me.

Her eyes were sharp, lips pursed. She barely noticed the water dripping from my hair, the shivering of my hands.

The look in her eyes was exactly the same as when she saw Father dying years ago.

I shivered, remembering the chill of her gaze then, as if I was not her child at all.

Since the Prince of Fortune’s birth, she barely cared for me, leaving me to fend for myself.

My meals grew cold waiting for her. The old nursemaids avoided me, fearing her wrath.

I think she must regret letting me live.

Her eyes, once full of calculation, now showed only irritation when she saw me.

Now, with wealth and favour and the Maharaj’s exclusive affection, her only blemish was me, a princess of the previous dynasty.

I was the only reminder of what she had lost and what she could not erase.

This farce was eventually reported by the Crown Prince to the Maharaj, who stood up for me and harshly punished Rani Lata and her daughter.

It was the talk of the palace for days. Some whispered the punishment was too harsh, but none dared say it aloud.

For a time, rumours spread that His Highness loved all who were close to him and cherished Princess Shreya.

I heard the gossip in the courtyards—how the Crown Prince protected even those the Maharaj ignored.

And my mother was even happier.

She preened in the sun, basking in the reflection of his favour, her pride swelling.

She believed the Maharaj loved her, deeply and truly.

She said as much to anyone who would listen. Her laughter filled the corridors.

Loved her so much that even I, a burden, was treated as a true princess.

She would stroke my hair for show when others were watching, but her touch was stiff, her smile hollow.