Chapter 8 - The Jasmine Scented
Bhallaladeva was striding more confidently towards his chambers than he was feeling at the moment. Since the Queen Mother had banished him from the Royal family, much against the current King's wishes, he had moved out of Vasant Mahal and had had his own mansion built in the palace grounds, separated from the main structure.
And there was where they had made arrangements to put up his newly wedded wife.
Wife...
He rolled the word over his tongue carefully and mused what a strange taste it left in his mouth. An odd bittersweet flavour which was refusing to let go of his palette at all. He had a wife now and he did not know how to feel about it. He had never felt the need to feel responsible for anyone in the past, whatever little he had felt for his mother had vanished into thin air, that fateful day in court and his father was a different matter all together.
He did not even want to open that particular can of worms.
But, now that he was married, that too to a total stranger, a sudden feeling of responsibility had sprouted within him. Which was making him feel absolutely unnerved. How did one go about this weird emotion? It wasn't making him feel as responsible as he did for his men, the troops under him or Mahishmati in general... it was a different kind of feeling.
A bewildering feeling.
Bhallaladeva stopped abruptly in front of his main chambers, having crossed the massive ground with the garden in front and stared at the ornate carvings of those golden doors. He felt incredibly foolish for some reason as his stomach twisted in knots. He had not had any close female interactions since many years, the only relation being the occasional courtesan he took to his bed. But they were professional seductresses knowing very well what to do and what not.
He had hardly talked even a single syllable with most of those air headed bimbos.
What expectations would a wife have from him?
And this woman in particular was already playing with his mind. It was unnatural, the effect she had on him. He couldn't stop himself from staring into those large eyes of hers. There were unknown mysteries hidden beneath those molasses brown hazel depths that he was desperate to unearth.
'Get a grip on yourself and stop behaving like a hormonal teenager!'
The Commander griped to himself mentally and took a deep breath, hiding his shooting nervousness beneath a mountain of ice and pushed the doors open ignoring the guards patrolling the corridors who bowed deeply to him as they passed by.
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'She is beautiful.'
Well for all the horrifying list of things he had been mentally cataloguing since the day the marriage alliance had been sent, one of them towards the far end of that never ending list had been that the Princess of Chittorgarh might just turn out to be an ogress.
Not that physical looks had anything to do with a relation, be that is it may, he knew he could hardly give emotional support to his partner, a cardboard statue that he was. So physicality was all, he knew, he could offer, that twisted brain of his, notwithstanding. The poor woman might just run away if she gets a glimpse of what lies inside that murky dungeon of his skull.
That thought was effectively banished from his brain the moment she had lifted her veil in Court that day.
He couldn't help but feel the short thud against his heart whenever he would see her in close quarters. She had to be the most ethereal creature he had ever laid eyes on. So much so that he was afraid that she may turn out to be some witch who had cast some spell over all of them. And in accordance with that surreal radiance, she burnt with a savage intelligence which had unnerved him.
Her words were damningly unapologetic in court that day and he couldn't help but admire the way the Princess had so ingeniously verbally slaughtered them for trying to trap her Kingdom and then fool her in this alliance. He will never forget the look on Sivagami Devi's face.
He hadn't lied when he had admitted to Devasena that this Desert Princess had caught him unaware. A feat no one can claim credit for before this.
She was turning out to be quite the pleasant surprise, this woman.
Mrignayani was surprisingly not seated in the middle of the bed with her veil pulled over her as expected, but standing in the middle of the room, face uncovered, her hands pulled straight at her either side and seemed to be staring at the moon outside. The late night wind was rustling the few curls, which had been left free from her jasmine scented bun, across her sharp jaw.
She was a picture of calm.
He suddenly realised quite uncomfortably that he was staring. He walked in and closed the doors behind him disconcertedly. He saw her turn her face sharply towards him and an uncharacteristic smidge of fear laced her eyes but it extinguished the next moment. She turned fully towards him and stood rooted to her place as he came to stand in front of her.
She had those infuriating eyes trained directly on his face and as usual he couldn't read her.
Bhallaladeva did not know how to react at all. This was a battle he had not prepared for, neither had he ever expected himself to be in this position. He was playing in the dark, completely blindsided. And for some strangely annoying reason, Mrignayani seemed to be slightly enjoying the upper hand she had unwittingly gained in this uncanny mental tug of war.
When he was only inch away from her, he expected her to back away, hoping to gain back some steady ground but she refused to budge from her position and kept standing her ground. Her face was inanimate and upturned to see his own, owing to the good height difference between them even if she was taller than most women he had met. He parted his lips to say something and immediately noticed the tremor which she was trying to hide in her clenched fists.
Bhallaladeva smirked like a predator having finally gotten the scent of his prey and by the way that reaction played with the slight widening of his wife's kohl rimmed eyes, the former knew she had missed a step at last. She immediately averted his gaze and looked down, lowering her heavy lashes and her face, shutting down her emotions from him for the moment.
'So you are nervous too, you arrogant little minx. Great, two can play this game.'
His calloused fingers reached and touched her chin gently to lift her face upwards at him again and he grinned mentally, feeling the shiver which went down her spine on the contact. She stared up into his eyes again and he struggled against the sudden wildfire which erupted inside him as if being lit by gasoline. He could smell the sandalwood and rose paste they had bathed her skin with, the dried henna in her arms and the jasmines which were tied in her hair.
He felt her hands touch his chest and felt his skin almost jump in shock. He waited for her to push him away, distance herself or do anything at all. But she just kept it there, standing as still as a statue. He lowered his face over hers slowly, keeping his eyes on hers throughout, and wondered whether the thundering in his ears was his own heart pounding or that of the woman in his arms.
She had automatically closed her eyes and her crimson lips had parted slightly, a red flush colouring her defined cheekbones becomingly and he felt his body tingling in places it has no business tingling in.
Then with a jolt Mrignayani felt his lips brush past hers very softly.
It was almost as if a butterfly's wings had fluttered against her lips and nothing more.
His gravelly baritone seemed to croon wickedly in her ears.
"Welcome to Mahishmati.......wife."
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Mrignayani was still gasping internally long after he had left, bidding her a soft good night in that impossibly deep voice of his. She had dropped on her bed, dress and all, barely able to stop her entire body from blushing hard.
She hated it.
The effect he had on her so easily.
She had never been so tempted before by a man's proximity. Initially she had believed her physical attraction to him being just her body's way of protesting to the severe frustrating rules that had been self imposed on it for years. But after the sheer explosion of feelings just his warm breath on her skin had created in the pit of her stomach, she knew it was more than that.
"Thank you.....husband."
She had immediately retorted back to his cunning words, hoping to gain back her hand in this secretive game they had unknowingly began playing. Her voice sounded unnaturally breathy to her own ears and her heart had done a massive cartwheel seeing his eyes light up so brilliantly. He was seemingly enjoying this tug of war greatly.
When she had laid this entire plan for the alliance, she had never factored in how her husband might turn out to be. When she had first heard about the General, she had formed her opinion based on the popular news. It was unanimous, the horror muffled in the words of the messengers, the fear struck like a never ending nightmare in his rarely escaped prisoners, the begrudging respect of his allies and also the occasional wicked words of a lady of the house.
Bhallaladeva was a man not to be trifled with.
Mrignayani had expected him to be the personification of toxic masculinity wrapped up in a silver foil of royal haughtiness.
Oh, the masculinity was all there and so was the arrogance which dripped like poisoned honey from the cruel twist of his lips and the hawk like eyes.
But he was so much more. That man had a ocean of mysteries buried deep beneath that exterior of a merciless man of war. And she could do nothing but get hopelessly entangled in that miasma of curiosity which drew her towards him like a moth to a flame. He looked like someone who could burn you to ashes with just his aura. But power of that capacity had always enticed her more than what should be considered sane and safe.
Even if she was not completely repulsed by the idea of getting bedded by him, the fear which unfortunately every woman suffers from had taken light roots in her heart. She had expected to be turned into nothing but a physical let out and used as such. Wringed dry of her utility, she would be thrown aside like a wrinkled petal.
But oh, she was so wrong!
She had never factored in this sudden battle of wills. Her husband seemed to be more interested in whatever he believes is cooking inside her mind than her body. His entire focus for those fifteen minutes had been in her eyes, single minded trial to plough through her thoughts, peep into her emotions. He was good, that gaze had been scorching and she had almost given up.
But then his lips had brushed against her and she had felt like a dying wilting flower had suddenly been brought back to life with a force which had sent it whirling in a land of blazing white. She had finally given into the mad urge to touch him somehow and his battle hardened muscles stretched wirily beneath her palms and all kinds of unholy thoughts had assailed her brain.
She hated Radha and her juvenile gossip which the latter had fed to her throughout the years.
She had managed to escape her evil husband's clutches by a hair's breadth and had managed to respond back effectively. She had marvelled at the way he seemed to enjoy her bark instead of flying into a temper and had smirked at her, moving back. She had mourned the loss immediately and had scolded herself for thinking on those lines.
"Calm yourself my lady. I am not going to pounce on you like some rabid animal without your permission."
She had looked at him slightly shocked and then went right back at sassing him mercilessly.
"So you mean to say that if I give permission then you would maul at me like a rabid animal?"
Then something truly miraculous had happened which she believed with some pride, only she may have been unknowingly made privy to, since a very long time.
Bhallaladeva had burst out into laughter.
It was not one of those dark raspy things which had sprouted from wickedness and depravity but full bellied and genuine. It made subtle laughter lines around his shut eyes and his caramel brown skin veritably glowed like sunshine was pouring out of it. It seemed to age him five years backward and made him look so uncharacteristically but painfully human.
Mrignayani had immediately stored that sight carefully inside her chest, knowing that it was an incredibly rare and precious thing which needed to be preserved somehow. She wished the Commander would laugh more often though.
Looking like this, she hadn't been able to realign his image with his fearsome reputation.
He looked... beautiful. Like a masterpiece crafted with much leisure and infinite care by the Almighty and she had promised herself that she would strive to make this man laugh like this as much as possible.
No one should be deprived of such a magnificent sight. It may very well be one of the wonders of the world.
"How very flattering madam! But let me assure you again, that no one would touch a single hair on your head without your permission. Not even me. I would take your leave now. I have heard, the Queen wishes to take you out on a tour of the Capital city tomorrow. You would need all your strength for that. Have some rest and a good night."
She had been unable to form a suitable comeback to that and had just smiled back at him muttering a flustered good night back at him as he went out as gracefully as he had entered. She had later realised that the General had basically given her his own quarters and gone away somewhere else. It was odd, feeling grateful to someone else for a change.
Maybe her husband wasn't all that bad.
Husband...
The word had tasted strange in her mouth and a familiar heat had pooled lower in her stomach, spreading throughout her body as she had settled in for the night.
It had a nice ring to it... husband.
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