He looked up at her, his eyes full of mischief and honey, and winked. "O Albela Sajan ," he crooned, changing the lyrics on the spot. "Why do you dance like the world is watching? Dance like no one is."
But before the guards could move, Ayaan began to sing.
"Give that back," she hissed.
Ayaan was sitting on the windowsill, drenched, holding a single genda flower.
She didn't listen. She avoided the courtyard where he slept. She covered her ears when his voice drifted through the kitchen windows. She told herself she hated chaos. Albela Sajan
"See?" he whispered. " Albela Sajan —you are not a dancer. You are a storm that learned to wear anklets." They were married at dawn, without the Maharaja's blessing. He didn't give it, but he didn't stop it either. The whole court watched as Leela walked out of the haveli barefoot, carrying only her ghungroos in one hand and Ayaan's hand in the other.
From the darkness, a voice answered: "Four… five… six…" He looked up at her, his eyes full
The court scoffed. The Maharaja waved a hand to have him removed.
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