| 𝔉𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔡 x 17 |
Book 1 in the SURYAGARH ROYALS series.
Suryagarh Fort.
In the heart of the desert state of Rajasthan, a 900-year-old fort, a 500-year-old family feud, a 300-year-old portrait, and the thirty-year-old crowned prince await t...
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The raspy, breezy murmur was full of angst, and it resonated in the entire hall despite the feeble chattering of tourists wafting from the floor below. Shockwaves rippled throughout her body, and she was rendered a panting, sweating mess. Her quivering lips tried to comment on the situation, and her uncertain gaze darted between the portrait and the man. He was busy ardently peering at the woman in the painting, smiling from time to time, and paid no attention to the nervousness ruling the heart of the young girl adjacent to him.
"Mr. Chauhan," she could swear her heart was on the verge of coming out of her chest, "why does she look like me?"
"Like you?" He chortled, his eyes raking the portrait on the wall. "Princess Meera is identical to you."
She gasped in horror and attempted to make out the finer details of the illustration. It was definitely antiquated, for the edges of the laminated sheet were slightly torn and faded. The colours that were once vibrant had lost their sheen, and the creases and folds across narrated the age of the sketch. However, Aarush was right, wasn't he? Princess Meera, a princess alive three hundred years ago, was a spitting image of Shreya Awasthy from the 21st century. The same forehead, the same manner in which Shreya parted her hair in the middle, the bouncy, wavy texture of the locks, the identical set of arched and shaped brows, the bow-shaped ample lips, the high cheekbones, the plump cheeks, and the fair skin. Down to every single detail, Shreya and Meera were duplicates of one another. Even the colour of their eyes and the pink tint on their cheeks. Anticipation gnawed at her heart. "Why?"
Again the same gravelly whisper that echoed in his ears. Finally tearing his gaze off Meera's glimmering eyes, he focused his attention on the dumbfounded and stunned girl alongside him. "Confused?"
She craned her neck towards him and scowled heavily. "You think?" Before he got the chance to respond, her eyes went around the hall. "Where is the camera? You are pulling my leg right now. Is this getting shot on camera? Where is it?" She twirled at the spot. "Where is the damned camera?" When she received no response from him, she chose to glare at him. His attention was fixated on his fingers as he peeked at them with mild disinterest. "Mr. Chauhan, this is not a good time to pull pranks on me. I am officially miffed, and I can't believe this is the way you treat your guests. If it's about the long email, you could've just ignored it and moved on instead of doing what you are doing right now. It's so disrespectful."
"Apologies if you felt disrespected."
She was furthermore irked by his clipped response. "Thanks for everything. Goodbye!"
She was about to walk away, irritated and annoyed with the man she found charming and handsome only moments ago, for she couldn't believe someone of Aarush's stature could pull such a cheap stunt on one of the guests at the resort. For God's sake, he was a prince and a well-renowned one at that. However, when he spoke up, she was coerced into halting in her steps.
"This is not a prank, Miss Awasthy. It's indeed a three-hundred-year-old painting preserved and handed down from our ancestors. She's Princess Meera. Not many are aware of the portrait since this portion of the museum is off-limits to regular visitors, so you might not have come across this image ever before, but that's indeed... Meera."
