Rags To Royals (Royal #1: Book 1) | ✔

13

-• a horrible start •-

The next morning, I'm summoned to the great hall by the new instructor. The maid leads me to the west of the ground floor and on our way tells me about the different rooms so the next I come here on my own, I don't get lost. I can't help but stare at the interiors and the paintings. One particular portrait of a woman stops me from moving forward. She looks kinda familiar but I can't figure out whose face she evokes in my mind.

"Who's this?" I ask as I chew the mint flavoured gum.

"Queen Ahilyabai Chauhan," the maid informs me with a smile. "This used to be her wing. Her bed chamber is just at the end of the hallway."

"She didn't share bedroom with her husband?" I ask in confusion.

The maid chuckles. "He might have been her husband, but he was also the King of Jaigarh. For a ruler to share his bedchamber with someone, even if that someone was his wife, was still dangerous."

I nod in understanding.

"Shall we?"

"Oh, yeah," I motion her with my hand to resume walking.

Finally we make it to the great hall. The huge double doors stare right in my face. The maid grips the iron bars and pushes the doors open. I walk in after her.

The great hall lives up to its name. It's as huge as a church but completely empty left for the set of round couches set in the middle of the room. My feet touch the beige and brown rug made of silk. I wonder if it's as soft as it looks. I steal a glance at the interiors, at the different paintings, sculptures, vases, and chests of drawers. Everything is so tastefully presented in the room, not really loud, but not very subtle either. While the antique rug is simple and beautiful, the royal glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling is big and shiny.

The maid leads me deeper inside where I find three women around the table at the front end of the hall, enjoying a cup of tea in front of the hearth by the large arched window.

"Mrs. Dodiya," the maid calls out and the woman turns her head over her shoulder. I shove my hands in the pocket of my jeans, doing my best to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. "Princess Taranya is here," she adds with a smile.

The woman, or as the maid referred to her, Mrs. Dodiya nods curtly. Her large brown eyes beneath the thick frames stare at me. I start to chew my gum louder just to distract myself and the corner of her lips twitches. I stop and swallow my saliva. She gets up from the chair, rising to her full height. Which is not so tall, probably around 4.5 something. From her attire, it looks like she is wearing a saree. A white saree with a gold border. Her hair is pushed back in a tight bun, not a strand defying her serious, judgmental look. A gold dot sits in the center of her forehead, wiggling everytime she narrows her brows at me.

Great, she looks like she eats children for breakfast.

Why am I so God damn unlucky!?

"Princess Taranya?" She pushes the maid aside roughly, almost causing the poor woman to stumble. I gasp and lurch forward to help her but Mrs. Dodiya tightly grabs my arm, forcing me to stand straight. "The world shall burn down to ashes but a rajput princess should never waver."

What the fuck.

She releases my arm and grabs my shoulders, squaring them so my chest puffs out. Then she clicks her tongue, shaking her head as she pokes my stomach. Automatically, I shrink. She hums in satisfaction, taking a step back and examining me like I'm some kind of artifact put on for exhibition.

"You'll stand exactly like this." She meets my eyes sternly. "Your hands should be elegantly close to your belly, so it holds the dupatta on your wrist and at the same time emphasizes your delicacy. If you want, you can curve your shoulders in a slight U. It'll highlight your collarbones."