I know the dialogues can be classy and hard to understand at once but you know, I need to keep in mind that this is a Historical Romance Novel.
Samarth rode forth on his steed, accompanied by a contingent of his men. The earth trembled beneath the pounding hooves. Their mission was to pursue the fleeing princess and her entourage, while the king and his family remained captive under Raj's watchful eye. The scorching sunlight beat down relentlessly, withering the plants that clung to the rocky terrain. The horses' iron-shod hooves trampled the parched vegetation without mercy.As Samarth ascended the mountain path, a messenger brought tidings that the princess, accompanied by her loyal bodyguard Kumar, had taken the winding route through the valleys of Kamalini. Renowned for their mystical beauty, these valleys were home to flowers that bloomed under the silvery light of the moon, only to close their delicate petals with the dawn's first rays. The shadows cast by the towering cliffs infused the valley with the heady scent of musk, rich earth, and dew-kissed petals and leaves, creating an enchanting aroma that filled the air
Princess Inayat was forcibly reduced to her knees, her wrists bound behind her back. Her knees hit the rocky ground, her robe rustled, stirring the dust around her. A faint cry escaped her lips, but her jaw remained clenched, resolving not to betray her vulnerability. However, the sight of her father, battered and bruised before her, threatened to undo her composure. The men of Samarth had clearly subjected him to brutal treatment during his attempted rescue of Inayat. Behind her, Kumar and their comrades lay captive, their eyes fixed on Inayat and the royal family with a mix of concern and despair."Inayat," her father whispered, his voice barely audible. His lips, swollen and split, curved into a gentle, loving smile, one that only Inayat could discern."Father," Inayat replied, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. Her heart quivered, like a bird frantically beating its wings against the confines of its cage. She gazed at her family, and the reality of their dire
Inayat's gaze froze on her father's lifeless body, her eyes wide with horror. Samarth's sword still pierced his heart, a merciless reminder of the brutal act that had unfolded before her eyes. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of her grief.Her breath caught in her throat, and she stumbled forward, her arms wrapping around her father's shoulders like a vice. A heart-wrenching wail tore from her lips, "Father!" The sound echoed through the eerie silence, a haunting lament that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth.The guards and Samarth stood unfazed, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort, as they witnessed the raw, unbridled grief of a daughter mourning her father's senseless slaughter. But Samarth, he had nothing to show. Inayat, however, was oblivious to her surroundings. Her world had narrowed to the lifeless body beneath her touch. She cradled her father's shoulders, her fingers digging deep into his still-warm flesh, as if w
As night descended, the palace was enveloped in a deep silence. The guards, stationed at their posts, stood vigilant in their duty at night. To pass the time, they exchanged hushed whispers, sharing quiet jokes to keep each other company. On the other hand, the kingdom was alive with anticipation, the air thick with the promise of change. The reign of Agnil had come to an end, and Samarth, the newly about-to appointed king, now held the reins of power. The advisors and servants, exhausted from their preparations, slept soundly, dreaming of the momentous occasion that would soon unfold. But Samarth found no rest. His mind was filled with thoughts of the future, his heart stirred by a restless energy. He rose from his bed, his silk night clothes rustling softly as he moved. The stone floor felt chilly beneath his feet as he walked through the darkened hallway, the only sound the soft echo of his footsteps. The guards, sensing his approach, stood to attention, their eyes fixed on the
As the flickering torches cast a warm glow across the chamber, Sagar, a loyal attendant, approached the throne with a reverent bow. "My lord, I bring tidings of the anticipated arrival. King William of the realm of Everia has sent word that he comes in peace, bearing a desire to pay his respects to your majesty tomorrow."Samarth's eyes, those meadow green beauties, shone with approval as he nodded graciously. "You may withdraw, Sagar. Your diligence is appreciated." With a quiet bow of reverence, the attendant departed, leaving Samarth to his contemplations.As the night's velvety darkness gathered outside, Samarth sat in solitude, his thoughts consumed by the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders now. The kingdom of Tziyonia, now under his stewardship, was abuzz with activity. Messages of felicitations had poured in from neighboring kingdoms, their monarchs eager to congratulate Samarth on his ascension to the throne.Many had been taken aback by the overflow of
Samarth's smile grew, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "Don't try to defy me, my dear," he whispered, his voice dripping with sensual menace. "It will only make me go hard and harder on you for the rest of our night. And I doubt you'll enjoy the consequences."As he finished speaking, he gently reached out and tucked a stray strand of Inayat's silky hair behind her ear. His fingertips grazed her smooth skin, sending a shiver down her spine. "It would be wise for you to comply willingly, Inayat," he whispered, his voice low and persuasive.Inayat's eyes flashed with defiance as she met his gaze. "Or else?" she murmured, her tone barely above a whisper, as if sharing a distasteful secret.Samarth's lips curled into a subtle smile. "Ah-huh, I will make you, as I've said earlier." He leaned in closer, his breath caressing her skin, and Inayat's heart skipped a beat.As he kissed her cheek, Inayat's eyelids fluttered closed, and she felt a rush of fear mixed with trepidation. Sam
Inayat strolled through the palace courtyard, under the warm sunlight of late afternoon. The sweet fragrance of blooming lotuses wafted through the air which was heightened by the coolness of the water pool and wet soil, and fresh green leaves, but her mind remained consumed by the memories of the previous night. Samarth's touch lingered in her thoughts, and with each recollection, a shiver coursed through her body, taunting her with the realization that her body, once reserved for Izhar, was now being claimed by his elder brother.The gentle rustle of the palm trees in the courtyard made a silent and soothing whisper in the slowly passing summer sir, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach. Months had passed since she began to emerge from the anguish of Izhar's death, but only she knew the countless hours she spent crying and reminiscing about their laughter, their moments of love, and the memories they shared. Each day, she liv
"This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night..." the royal tutor's voice recited the sacred words, his voice graciously yielded to the dignified presence that had entered the room. Samarth's deliberate footsteps, echoing off the heels of his shoes, signaled his arrival, commanding the attention of all present. The maidservants surrounding Aabroo and her tutor bowed their heads in reverence, their eyes cast downward in respect, as Samarth approached. With majestic composure, Samarth completed the scripture, his voice blending seamlessly with the tutor's, "...that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success." Aabroo's countenance illuminated with a radiant smile as she rose from her seat, her slender arms enveloping her brother's legs – due to her height – in a tender, affectionate embrace. "I am utterly delighted t
Samarth's eyes, cold and blazing, darted around the chaos of the battlefield. The wedding grounds had become a warfront. Screams pierced the air, steel clashed against steel, and blood painted the floor once gilded for celebration. He turned from Sabrina with a snarl curling his lips. Without waiting, he rushed through the courtyard, his boots splashing into pools of blood and shattered petals. His guards closed around him, forming a protective shield as he mounted his horse with practiced precision. "Protect him!" Veer’s voice echoed as he engaged in fierce combat, his blade a silver blur, felling enemies two at a time. Samarth kicked into his horse's sides, surging forward with fury burning in his chest. Inayat. Aabroo. The image of them being hunted sickened him. Behind him, a dozen riders followed, their faces resolute, blades drawn. Sabrina, seeing his retreat, bellowed to her army, "Kill the rest. Let none remain!" Her voice was venom and vengeance. The tide surged against t
The day of the wedding dawned like a benediction from the heavens. The sun rose slowly, gilding the spires of the palace in soft gold, casting a warm glow over the bustling kingdom. The air was fragrant with fresh marigolds and rose petals, and the palace echoed with joyful voices, music, and the sounds of celebration. The hearts of the people beat with anticipation, for it was not merely the union of a king and his bride — it was the binding of two destinies, sanctified by faith and the will of God.From the upper balconies to the vast courtyards, all was adorned. Silk banners of ivory and crimson swayed in the breeze. Draperies stitched with threads of gold whispered against the marbled walls. Lamps flickered in readiness to be lit at dusk, casting soft glimmers upon the polished stone floors. The scent of incense and jasmine floated in the corridors as nobles and commoners alike readied themselves for a wedding that would be etched in memory for generations.Within her chamber, Ina
The desert wind was calm that morning, brushing softly over the golden sands as the sun began its slow rise beyond the dunes. The palace gates, tall and majestic, opened with a quiet groan, revealing a caravan waiting under the pearl-gray sky. Camels stood adorned in fine cloth and gold-tasselled harnesses, their hooves shifting gently on the stone-paved courtyard. The guards stood in rows, their spears gleaming with polished steel, their eyes scanning the horizon with quiet vigilance.Inayat emerged first, dressed in a layered ensemble of ivory and peach, her head lightly veiled, golden embroidery catching the morning light. Her delicate anklets jingled softly as she walked toward the lead camel. Samarth followed, his sherwani a rich cream, bordered with gold thread, a soft white shawl resting on his shoulder. His presence was commanding yet serene, and his gaze found her as naturally as breath finds the chest.They mounted their camels, Inayat with practiced grace, Samarth steady be
The great hall had long gone quiet. The last echoes of music had faded down the corridors, and the petals that once rained upon her now rested on the cold marble, fragrant and still. But in the solitude of her chamber, Inayat lay curled upon her soft, brocade-covered bed, the warmth of celebration still glowing inside her heart.Her cheek pressed gently against a silk pillow, arms folded around it like it might float away if she didn’t hold on. Her eyes, soft and filled with starlight, remained fixed on the delicate ring wrapped around her finger. The pearl gleamed faintly in the dim glow of the single standing lamp beside her bed. It was gentle and elegant, like everything she had ever dreamed of.She stared at it, unmoving, but her mind was alive with memory.She could still feel it: his gaze. How he had looked at her in that moment. How his eyes never once left her face even as petals fell and music roared. It had been more than a gaze — it was devotion, offered wordlessly. Not the
The palace was draped in splendor, touched by the hands of artful decorators and blooming with the essence of joy. Silken banners fluttered from grand arches, embroidered in gold thread with the twin emblems of House Samarth and House Inayat. The royal hall, usually a place of counsel and command, had transformed into a sanctum of celebration. Candle chandeliers hung like floating stars, scattering their golden light over polished marble floors that reflected the excitement of the day.Every inch of space below was filled with noblemen, ambassadors, emissaries from afar, commanders, sages, and friends of the kingdom. Laughter echoed against high ceilings, blending with the distant music of flutes and harp strings. Above, on every balcony and gallery, more guests leaned against the carved railings, craning to witness what had drawn such fervor — a union the kingdom had longed for.Two priests in white and gold robes stepped forward to the center stage, where a great circular platform h
The sunlight was mellow that morning, filtered through carved jharokhas and falling in soft golden squares upon the polished marble floor. The chamber designated for the king's fitting had been transformed into a vibrant workspace. Bolts of fabric in every hue imaginable lay neatly folded on low teakwood tables, while ornate designs of embroidery were pinned across scrolls of parchment hanging against the walls. The scent of freshly brewed spiced tea lingered in the air.Samarth stood tall at the center, stripped down to a fine muslin undershirt and loose cotton trousers, the chill of the cold season barely bothering him. Around him were his closest men — Raj, the General Commander, tall and ever sharp-eyed; Veer, the tactician with a penchant for jokes; and three council ministers who had stood beside him in countless matters: Vaibhav, Amar, and Kshitij.A lean, graceful man in his late forties circled the king with a measuring tape. The master of textiles and tailoring, a famed Vast
The moon spilled its silver warmth over the palace gardens, painting the world in gentle light and shadows. The fragrance of night-blooming jasmine floated up from below, and the quiet rustle of the breeze through the silk curtains gave the air a kind of hush, like the night itself was listening. Inayat stepped into Samarth’s private chamber, her anklets chiming softly beneath the folds of her pale blue skirt. The room was bathed in warm amber light from the brass lanterns hung above. A scroll lay half-unrolled on the polished wooden table, abandoned. Samarth stood near the window, his dark silhouette drawn against the moon.She paused a moment, smiling quietly to herself before calling gently, "You look like you’re about to leap out of that window."Samarth turned, and the usual weight in his eyes lifted just a little. "If I did, would you come catch me?""No," she replied at once, walking toward him, "but I’d probably climb down and pull you back by the ear."He chuckled, stepping
The afternoon sun filtered through the carved jharokhas, casting a delicate mosaic of gold and shadow upon the marble floor of the palace’s bridal chamber. The scent of rosewater lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle sweetness of sandalwood oil and fresh jasmine garlands that had been strung up along the lattice windows.Inside the room, laughter rang like bells.Inayat sat cross-legged on a thick silken rug, her maroon skirt pooling around her like a blooming flower. Her dupatta, sheer and embroidered with silver vines, was pinned loosely atop her head, the ends cascading over her shoulder. Around her sat her trusted women — Ridhima and Leela, their eyes sparkling with mischief — while across from her, a group of skilled women from the royal atelier prepared lengths of exquisite fabric on low tables.Swatches of fabric spilled in gentle waves: ivory muslin embroidered with gold threads, pale blush silks with silver zari, delicate organzas dyed in hues of rose, almond, and cha
The golden light of early dusk filtered through the carved jharokhas, scattering intricate patterns across the marble floor. Inayat reclined gracefully against the cushioned settee, her silken robe shimmering with subtle embroidery, hair loosely braided and threaded with pearls. Aabroo sat beside her, her hand loosely folded into hers, and on the rug before them, Leela and Ridhima lounged like blooming lilies, laughter bubbling softly between them.The sound of anklets jingled as Leela stirred the contents of a small brass bowl beside her — an ointment she was making, grinding crushed herbs with steady fingers stained green. Ridhima, meanwhile, was braiding a thin garland of jasmine, the scent lifting like incense in the air.“You’re going to be Queen,” Ridhima said suddenly, teasing spark in her eye. “Just like that. One night and the heavens have shifted.”Leela chuckled. “What enchantment did you use, my lady? A glance? A touch? Or simply your silence? He was smitten like a deer ca