The walk back through the palace was a quiet, winding trial. The noon heat had driven most of the household into the cool interior rooms, and the corridors were empty save for the two of them. Priya walked ahead, her thighs still sticky, her punished flesh smarting with every step, the taste of their mingled intimacy still coating her tongue. Ranjeet followed close behind, his silence a heavy, approving weight.

When they reached the doors of his private chambers, he dismissed the guards with a single glance. The heavy doors swung shut, sealing them inside with the scent of old wood and the faint, dried perfume of their earlier passions. The rumpled bed still bore the pink vibrator and the twisted silk dupatta. The carved chest stood open, its contents a dark promise.