Night fell over the household like a velvet shroud, heavy and expectant. The servants had been dismissed early, sent to their quarters with strict instructions not to disturb the main house until morning. The doors were locked. The curtains were drawn. The only sound was the distant hum of the ceiling fan and the thudding of five male hearts, each beating with a different rhythm of fear, lust, and desperate devotion.

I sat in Veer's room, my room now, on the large carved bed that had witnessed my transformation. I wore a deep crimson saree, so dark it was almost black in the dim light, the fabric sheer enough to reveal the shadow of my areolas, the curve of my belly, the triangle of my sex. The ruby ring was on my finger, catching the flicker of the single diya I had lit. My hair was loose, cascading over my shoulders. My lips were stained with paan. I was every inch the queen I had declared myself to be.