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The corridors of Ranawat Palace were not meant to be walked quietly.

They demanded admiration.

Damini Malhotra walked slowly beneath the high carved ceilings, her fingers lightly grazing the sandstone walls etched with centuries-old floral motifs. The marble beneath her feet gleamed like still water, reflecting the chandeliers above.

She tilted her head back, studying a mural painted across the domed ceiling.

She clicked a few photos on her tablet.

Two weeks.

It had been exactly two weeks since she had stepped into Ranawat Palace — not as a guest, not as a socialite, not as hotelier Vihaan Malhotra’s daughter.

But as Damini Tripathi. Her mom’s maiden name.

Landscape Artist.

Portfolio-based selection.

No surname advantages.

No hotel empire attached.

And she preferred it that way.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, breaking her architectural inspection.

She glanced at the screen and smiled instantly.

Mridu calling.

She answered at once.

“Hey Mridu, what’s up?”

“All good here,” Mridula replied. “How is your royal life going? Designing gardens for maharajas now, are we?”

Damini grinned, walking toward a balcony that overlooked the inner courtyard.

“Oh, it’s going great. You know how easy life becomes when there is unlimited funding? I just suggested importing Tuscan cypress trees and nobody even blinked.”

“Rich people problems.” Mridu laughed.

“Not problems. Opportunities,” Damini corrected dramatically. “The palace is breathtaking, Mridu. Every corridor tells a story. It’s as beautiful as Maheswari Palace.”

“Ahh,” Mridu teased. “Missing your royal brother-in-law’s palace?”

“The Maheswaris have better jharokhas. But the Ranawats have better courtyards.” Damini sighed dreamily. 

There was a pause.

Then Mridu’s voice turned mischievous.

“So tell me… does this Ranawat Royal Family have any grandsons of marriageable age?”

Damini stopped walking.

Her eyes sparkled.

“Oh, Mridu. You have no idea.”

“Don’t tell me—”

“There are two,” Damini whispered dramatically.

“And?” Mridu gasped theatrically.

“And one of them is getting married this week,” Damini said with mock tragedy. “Such a loss to the nation.”

“And the second?” Mridu burst out laughing. 

Damini leaned against the balcony railing, looking down at the fountains below.

“I am currently gathering intelligence.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Excuse me,” Damini said defensively. “Strategic research is important before life decisions.”

“Oh really? And what life decision is this?”

Damini lowered her voice conspiratorially.

“Tiara or adventure.”

Mridu went silent for two seconds.

“Explain.”

“You see,” Damini began in a philosophical tone, “Di keeps reminding me that the tiara Jeeju gifted me is just an ornament. It has no title attached to it.”

Mridu snorted.

“She said, ‘You can wear it, Damini, but you are not a princess.’ Can you imagine?”

“How tragic.”

“Exactly! What is the point of owning a stunning diamond tiara if there is no kingdom to go with it?”

“You need therapy.”

“I need a throne,” Damini corrected.

“So your master plan is to marry into royalty?” Mridu laughed loudly.

“If Jeeju’s younger brother was my age, I would have already secured my position as Maheswari princess. Unfortunately, he is ancient.”

“He is thirty-five!”

“Exactly. Fossil category.”

Mridu was wheezing with laughter now.

“So now the Ranawats are your target?”

“Not target. Potential destiny,” Damini said dreamily. “Let me first find out about this younger prince. If he is worth the tiara, I will consider it.”

“And if not?”

Damini pushed herself off the railing.

“Then I choose adventure. Accidental marriage. Unexpected love story. Dramatic monsoon confession. The usual.”

“You are absolutely insane.”

“I prefer ‘creatively ambitious.’”

“No wonder Vihaan uncle is turning grey even though he is as handsome as ever.” Mridu sighed. 

“He has two troublesome daughters. He should have turned grey at thirty five. He is late.” Damini grinned. 

After a few more laughs and gossip exchanges, Damini hung up.

She turned around—

And nearly collided with someone.

“Oh!”

A soft chuckle met her ears.

“Planning to conquer a royal household, are we?”

Damini froze.

Durga Ranawat stood there, regal in a cream silk saree, silver hair neatly tied, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Dadi sa!” Damini exclaimed, pressing her hand to her chest dramatically. “You walk like a ninja.”

“At seventy-two?” Durga raised a brow. 

“Especially at seventy-two. It’s suspicious.”

“I heard something about thrones and destiny.” Durga let out a soft laugh. 

“You must have misheard.” Damini blinked innocently. 

“Oh? I distinctly heard ‘securing position as princess.’”

Damini hesitated for exactly one second.

Then she straightened confidently.

“Fine. Since you caught me, let me ask directly.”

“Ask.” Durga folded her hands behind her back, entertained. 

“How many eligible princes does this palace currently offer?”

For a second, there was stunned silence.

Then—

Durga Ranawat burst into loud, unapologetic laughter.

The sound echoed down the corridor.

Servants passing by froze in shock. They had rarely heard the matriarch laugh so freely.

“You are outrageous,” Durga said, wiping the corner of her eye.

“I prefer efficient,” Damini replied.

Durga studied her.

“Young girls usually pretend shyness.”

“Shyness is overrated. Clarity saves time.” Damini shrugged. 

“And what will you do with a prince?” Durga’s eyes gleamed. 

Damini tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“Depends. Is he brooding and emotionally unavailable?”

Durga blinked.

“Because I have two career options in mind,” Damini continued seriously. “One: become princess. Two: reform emotionally damaged royal heir.”

Durga tried to control her laughter and failed again.

“You are dangerous.”

“No, Dadi,” Damini said sweetly. “I am resourceful.”

Durga shook her head in disbelief.

“And what if the prince refuses you?”

Damini gasped dramatically.

“Then I shall design the most breathtaking gardens in this palace, so he falls in love with my landscaping skills first.”

Durga laughed so hard she had to hold onto the pillar.

“You are not afraid of anything, are you?”

Damini thought for a moment.

“Cockroaches,” she admitted. “And mediocre men.”

That did it.

Durga laughed louder than before.

“You are a storm, child.”

“A well-planned storm.” Damini grinned. 

Durga’s laughter slowly softened into something warmer.

“I like you,” she said sincerely.

Damini’s playful expression gentled.

“I like you too, Dadi sa.”

Durga looked at her carefully — as if seeing beyond the humor. She only heard tid bits of Damini’s phone conversation.

“You don’t act like someone who is impressed by wealth.”

Damini smiled lightly.

“Money builds walls. Character builds homes.”

Durga’s gaze sharpened.

“Who are you really, Damini?”

For a split second, something flickered in Damini’s eyes.

But she simply bowed slightly.

“A landscape artist who believes every palace needs better gardens.”

Durga chuckled.

“Perhaps,” she murmured, almost to herself, “this palace needs more than just better gardens.”

And as Damini walked away, humming softly, the Ranawat matriarch watched her with thoughtful eyes. For a second, Durga Ranawat’s heart longed for this girl to enter her elder grandson’s life and make his dark life as colourful as she could. But it was already late. Inder already made his choice. With a sigh, Durga Ranawat turned and walked away..

Somewhere, fate adjusted its script.

Because while Inder Ranawat was preparing for a loveless marriage—

A girl who wanted a tiara had just stepped into his kingdom.

Unaware…

That she might become its queen.

A/N

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