The courtyard of Devgarh glimmered beneath the noon sun — gold-edged drapes fluttering against marble pillars, guards standing in precise formation, and the faint scent of rosewater drifting through the air. The Surajgarh convoy had barely come to a halt when the palace erupted in a gentle flurry of activity.
From the grand staircase, Diya descended beside her parents, her lavender lehenga moving like mist around her ankles. Her bangles chimed softly, echoing her heartbeat — steady, then not.
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