Aadhya's POV
Last night left a sour taste on both of our tongues. He crossed boundaries, and I came off a bit too harshly as well, which subsequently left me feeling unsettled. So, when he apologized this morning, I accepted it—even though I was still annoyed.
His apology cleared the air between us, but it didn't erase his lingering stares or my provoked frustration.
"I never realized you were this terrible at archery," I remarked as I strode into the pavilion where the guests gathered to watch the competition.
Ladies rested under the shade, chatting amidst attendants and refreshments. The sun gleamed brightly as I spotted Prashant standing with the other guests.
"You haven't changed, have you?" he greeted with a warm smile.
"Why change when you can improve?" I replied.
He chuckled, teasing, "Is that so? Have you actually grown into a good archer? Last time we met, your form was appalling."
"Is that so?" Aarav's voice cut in as he walked over to us. He had returned sooner than I anticipated from his uncle's consultation. "You never told me you practiced archery," he said, his gaze sharp and demanding.
"You never asked, my prince," I replied with a reverence that clearly signaled my mockery.
"Oh, you should definitely watch, Prince—just to see how terrible she is," Prashant chuckled, drawing Aarav into the banter.
Deciding to prove a point, I stepped up to the bow. While I wasn't entirely certain of my form since I'd never held a traditional bow before, my experience with darts gave me a baseline of confidence.
To Prashant's astonishment—and Aarav's visible shock—I drew the arrow steady and struck right near the center of the target. Prashant beamed with praise, while Aarav stood frozen, his eyes filled with a storm of unspoken questions and rising jealousy.
Aarav's POV
My heart tightened as I watched Prashant lean in close to instruct Aadhya. It was entirely unnecessary, and the warmth between them grated on my nerves. Why hadn't she ever mentioned archery? I would have taught her myself.
For the rest of the day—at the supper table, in the gardens, during every gathering—I couldn't escape the growing bond between them. It drove me half-mad. For months, I had convinced myself
I despised her. But watching her with him, I realized my feelings had twisted into something entirely different, something terrifyingly possessive.
I couldn't stand the agony of uncertainty anymore. Needing answers, I marched straight to her chambers late that evening without a second thought.
"What are you doing?" she snapped, startled as she adjusted a wrap around her damp shoulders.
I froze, instantly flustered. "I apologize," I stammered, my mind suddenly blanking on why I had even come. The sight of her—unprepared and caught off guard—brought back a flood of memories from that night.
"Why are you here?" she demanded, annoyance flashing in her eyes as I stood rooted to the spot.
"I wanted... to talk," I managed weakly.
"About what?"
She stared at me, clearly bewildered by my uncharacteristic hesitation. Taking a breath, I forced the words out. "I need to know... what happened that night?"
She let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "That's what you came here for?"
"I'm serious," I urged, my voice tight. "I need to know. It's been driving me crazy."
She regarded me for a long moment before a knowing smile touched her lips. "Fine. If you really want to know, I'll tell you."
As she recounted the details of that evening—the tipsy conversation, the unexpected closeness, and the quiet vulnerability we had both shared—my face burned. She spoke with a bold, uninhibited honesty that stripped away all my defenses.
"Wait," I interrupted, my cheeks flushing deep crimson as the memories rushed back, overwhelming my senses. "Leave it. I—I don't need to hear any more. I'm going to sleep. This was a terrible idea!"
Turning abruptly, I retreated from the room, my heart hammering against my ribs, entirely consumed by the whirlwind she left in her wake.