The moonlight spilled across the polished floors of their chamber, casting long silver shadows. A gentle breeze moved the sheer curtains, and the only sound was the quiet clinking of wooden chess pieces being moved.

Kaif sat in a relaxed posture, legs slightly folded, his dark robes loosely draped. Across from him, Mehrunisa knelt, chin slightly lifted with the quiet pride of someone not entirely sure of the rules—but determined to win.

"That’s the third time you’ve tried to move the horse diagonally," Kaif said, raising an amused brow.

"It’s not a horse, it’s a ghoda," she replied cheekily. "And maybe in my kingdom, horses move freely."

Kaif’s lips twitched. “This is not your kingdom.”

“Not yet,” she said under her breath, reaching for another piece.

Kaif leaned back, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “What was that?”

“I said check,” she said, placing her bishop directly in line with his king. "I think I’m winning."

He stared at the board, then at her, then at the board again. “You’re cheating.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I would never! Just because I’m cleverer—”

“—And louder.”

“—And prettier.”

That made him laugh—a soft, real laugh that turned his face warm and young, like the shadows that clung to him had loosened their grip. It startled Mehrunisa for a moment, seeing him like that, unguarded. She blinked, then smiled wide.

"I win," she declared.

"You haven’t even taken my king," he pointed out.

"But I took your seriousness." She tapped his chest lightly with a finger. “And made you smile. That’s worth more.”

He didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on her face a moment longer before he stood. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re improving,” she teased, rising to her feet. “Maybe next time, you’ll last longer.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Careful. I’m not easily defeated.”

“And I’m not easily scared.”

With a final playful glare, they retired to bed, the tension between them replaced with a calm warmth. Lying side by side, still grinning faintly, sleep slowly took them both.

But the night had its secrets.

As the candle burned low, Mehrunisa’s breaths grew shallow. Her smile faded as her eyes twitched beneath closed lids.

In her dream, the warmth of the chamber was gone. She stood barefoot on cold marble, surrounded by mist. The palace was darker, older—alive with whispers and weeping.

Then she saw her.

A woman in regal robes, her face pale and eyes hollow—yet glowing with a strange golden fire. Her crown tilted, veil torn, and in her hand, she held a withered rose.

Chand Sultana.

“You walk where I once walked,” the spirit hissed, her voice echoing with ancient pain. “You sleep where I once lay.”

Mehrunisa backed away, heart racing.

“She will rise again… unless you obey. The curse does not die with the kiss of love.”

“W-what do you want?” Mehrunisa whispered.

The spirit’s eyes narrowed. “The East Wing. Come to me. Before the moon bleeds full again.”

Suddenly, Mehrunisa felt hands gripping her arms, pulling her into a void. The dream shattered.

She woke with a jolt—sweat on her brow, breath uneven.

Kaif stirred beside her. “Mehrunisa?”

She didn’t answer at first, staring into the dark, heart pounding.

“She was here…” she whispered.

Kaif sat up, eyes sharp now. “Who?”

“…Chand Sultana.”

He reached out, placing a hand over hers. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

But deep in his heart, he knew it wasn’t.

The Morning After----

A faint orange light filtered through the lattice windows of the royal chamber, casting soft patterns over the silk sheets. The scent of rose water lingered from the night before, but now, it clung faintly—overshadowed by something colder.

Kaif sat at the edge of the bed, fully awake. He hadn’t gone back to sleep after Mehrunisa's terrified whispers. She lay curled beside him now, her face turned away, her breathing slow but restless.

When she finally stirred, her lashes fluttered open to find his gaze already on her.

“You were shivering in your sleep,” he said softly.

Mehrunisa sat up slowly, brushing back her hair. “It was the same voice… same woman. Chand Sultana. I saw her again.”

Kaif’s jaw tightened. “Tell me everything.”

Mehrunisa recounted the vision—the cold mist, the decaying palace, the withered rose, the warning. The mention of the East Wing made Kaif rise to his feet, pacing the room.

“She said I sleep where she once lay,” Mehrunisa whispered. “And she wants me to come to her. She keeps saying… ‘before the moon bleeds full again.’”

Kaif turned sharply toward her. “That’s in a week.”

She blinked. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been watching,” he muttered. “Counting the full moons since I was twelve. Ever since the curse began to claim this palace.”

Mehrunisa stood up slowly. “What curse?”

Kaif hesitated. For years, he had locked the truth behind stone walls, just like the sealed chambers of Varenshah. But now, with her caught in it… he could no longer keep silent.

“There’s a reason why no queen has ever survived in this palace,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy. “Each one died before the first full moon after their union. Some vanished. Some went mad. The East Wing… is where they all were last seen.”

Her hand clutched the edge of the curtain, knuckles white. “And you let me come here alone?”

“I tried to stop it,” Kaif said, stepping closer. “But your father’s letter, his seal—it forced the council to accept. He believed you could break the curse.”

Mehrunisa swallowed hard, remembering her mother’s tearful prayers, the silence in her home, the way her name echoed too loud in the hallways.

“She’s calling me, Kaif,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “She wants me close. And if I go…”

“You won’t,” he said firmly, cupping her face. “You won’t go near the East Wing.”

“But what if I can’t stop myself?”

“Then I’ll chain the gates if I have to,” he said, eyes blazing. “You are not dying in this palace. Not like the others.”

Their breaths mingled. For the first time, Kaif’s fear wasn’t for himself. It was for her.

And deep in the shadowed corridors of the East Wing, behind a locked and ancient door… a faint whisper echoed against the crumbling walls:

“She is coming to me… and this time, she will not leave.”

---

The golden morning light poured into the royal breakfast hall, catching the glint of polished silver and the deep red of pomegranate juice served in goblets. The long table, set with fresh fruits, warm breads, and spiced honey, had never felt so full—yet all eyes were on one pair.

Mehrunisa sat quietly, her eyes lowered, trying to hide the trace of fear that lingered in them after last night’s dream. Her fingers nervously broke a piece of bread as she nibbled distractedly. Kaif sat at the head of the table, a soft fur cloak draped over his shoulders, his hair slightly tousled, as if sleep hadn’t come easily.

Then, as the maids refilled their cups, Kaif cleared his throat.

“I have made a decision,” he said, his voice calm, but resolute.

Mehrunisa looked up, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“You will no longer roam the palace alone,” he continued. “From today onward, a personal guard will accompany you. Her name is Raniya—she is skilled, silent, and loyal to me above all.”

The words landed like a pebble in a still pond.

Mehrunisa blinked. “A guard… for me?”

The maids, especially Saliha, shared a knowing look and bit back a giggle. One of them even murmured under her breath, “She’s not just his wife, she’s becoming his world.”

Mehrunisa turned pink, trying to understand the meaning behind his tone. “I didn’t know I needed such… security.”

Kaif’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s not about need. It’s about trust. And fear.”

“Fear?” she asked, brows lifting slightly.

“I don’t want you walking into something you cannot see,” he replied, softer now, but firm. “This palace holds more than stone and shadows. And after last night, I’m not taking chances.”

The air thickened with a pause. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes locked on hers.

“I want to protect you, Mehrunisa… in ways I couldn’t protect others.”

That silence after his words was louder than the clatter of cups. Mehrunisa’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to respond, but no words came.

Saliha smiled, pouring tea into Mehrunisa’s cup. “It seems the Varenshah cares deeply, milady.”

Mehrunisa bit her lip, eyes downcast but shining.

Kaif leaned back, pretending not to hear, but a rare softness crossed his face—a trace of vulnerability few had ever seen.

As the breakfast continued, Raniya appeared at the entrance. Tall and poised, she bowed respectfully. Kaif gave her a nod.

“This is Raniya,” he said, rising slightly. “From this moment on, she stays with you. You’ll find no better guardian.”

Raniya stepped forward, saluted, and took her place silently behind Mehrunisa.

Mehrunisa glanced at Kaif one last time, a thousand questions in her eyes. He didn’t speak again. He only met her gaze and nodded—silent, steady, protective.

For the first time, Mehrunisa wasn’t sure if her heart trembled from fear… or something else entirely.

---

The council chamber buzzed with the low hum of serious conversation. Kaif stood tall at the head of the long oak table, surrounded by his trusted advisors, their maps and scrolls sprawled before them. The matter was urgent—border security, potential threats to the Varenshah name, and the strange shift in energies within the palace grounds. His tone was sharp, composed, the voice of a man born to lead.

But beyond the carved wooden doors, something far less serious stirred.

Peeking from behind a pillar was Mehrunisa—barefoot, quiet, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her soft dupatta was half slipping from her shoulder, and a faint smile curved her lips as she watched Kaif, completely absorbed in his princely duties.

She stepped forward, tiptoeing like a child playing hide and seek.

“I wonder what he’s like when he isn’t trying to rule the world,” she whispered to herself.

Unaware—or so she thought—of his eyes catching the faint shimmer of her presence behind the curtain, Kaif suppressed the curve that touched his mouth. He said nothing. Didn’t move. But his heart stirred.

She peeked again, lifting the curtain slightly, trying to sneak closer like a thief in her own palace.

Kaif dismissed his council with a single wave of his hand.

“We’ll continue this after the midday prayer,” he said.

His men bowed and filed out, their footsteps echoing as they disappeared down the hall.

Mehrunisa, still busy peeking through the curtain, was startled as a voice came from just behind her.

“Are you spying on me, my lady?”

She gasped, turning swiftly—and there he was. Right behind her.

Her big, dark eyes widened in surprise, caught like a child mid-prank. But then a smile broke over her face and a little laugh escaped her lips as she marched ahead of him, crossing her arms like a victorious queen.

“I thought I scared you,” she said, tossing a glance over her shoulder with mischief sparkling in her eyes.

“You think you can scare me?” he replied, stepping closer.

She stopped, turning toward him again, standing just close enough to feel the quiet power in his presence. The scent of musk and sandalwood clung to him—faint but intoxicating. Her heart fluttered.

“I think…” she said, her voice low, “you’re scared for me.”

She reached forward and gently tugged at the button of his sherwani, her fingers brushing against the smooth fabric.

Kaif’s breath hitched.

Her eyes, warm and full of questions, searched his. “You gave me a guard… You think I need protecting.”

He was momentarily caught—not by her words, but by her nearness. The golden light from the windows fell across her cheekbones, catching the soft flush in her face. He’d never seen her like this. Playful. Bold. Beautiful beyond reason.

“I don’t want her,” she said, taking a step aside with a slight pout. “She keeps following me. I feel like a prisoner.”

“It’s for you,” he said, voice soft but firm, “for your protection.”

“I know,” she whispered, now standing before him again, arms gently folded. “But… I’m scared too. And I don’t want to be watched all the time. I want you.”

That confession hung in the air like incense.

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling slightly faster now. Then he stepped forward and, with both hands, gently cupped her face. His thumbs softly stroked her cheekbones, eyes locked with hers.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Mehrunisa,” he murmured.

“I do,” she replied, her voice steady.

“I won’t be at peace otherwise,” he said honestly. “And I can’t be with you every moment.”

“Why not?” she whispered. “Why can’t I have my husband around instead of a stranger?”

That made him smile.

Not the polite smile of royalty. But a true, rare smile—one that reached his tired eyes and softened the weight he always carried.

And in that brief, silent moment, Kaif forgot about curses, shadows, and all the things he could not protect her from.

He only saw her—the girl who walked into his life quietly… and changed everything.

---

Mehrunisa sat before the mirror, a delicate smile playing on her lips—one she didn’t even realize was there. Every time she thought of Kaif’s hands gently cupping her face, of the way his voice had cracked ever so slightly when he spoke of her safety, her heart fluttered with a softness she hadn’t known in this dark palace.

Tonight was the grand feast. A sudden celebration proposed by the neighboring kingdom’s emissary to honor the long-lost friendship between their forefathers. It was unexpected, but perhaps that’s why it held such charm. The Varenshah Palace, which had once slumbered in centuries of silence, was now gleaming in light and color for the first time in generations.

The servants had removed the heavy, dusky drapes from the windows. Golden lanterns and silver mirrors lined the corridors. Strings of roses and marigolds hung from the balconies, and sweet melodies of sitars echoed in the halls. Laughter drifted in from the open courtyards where guests and villagers mingled, hugged, and celebrated. The darkness had been pushed back—except on the eastern side.

There, shadows still clung to stone. Forgotten. Seething.

Mehrunisa, however, remained unaware of the unrest. She wanted to look beautiful tonight—not for the feast, not for the guests, but for Kaif.

She had dismissed the maids, choosing instead to do her makeup herself. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she lined her eyes, dusted her cheeks, and fastened the delicate nose ring. Bangles clinked gently on her wrists as she adjusted them. Her lehnga was a soft rose gold, the blouse embroidered with moon-thread. She left her long hair open, cascading down her back like a river of night.

Just as she reached for her dupatta, she felt a presence at the door.

Kaif stood there, frozen.

His gaze swept over her slowly, reverently, and for a long moment, he forgot to breathe. Her beauty was unlike anything he had seen before—gentle and powerful at once.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I’m getting ready,” she replied, not meeting his eyes as her hands moved quickly in search of the dupatta.

Kaif stepped forward, picked up the dupatta from the bed, and without a word, gently draped it over her head. Their eyes met in the mirror. Something shifted in his expression—adoration mixed with awe.

“You look like a queen tonight,” he whispered.

“I am one,” she teased lightly, her voice still soft.

Outside, the feast was in full bloom. Lights sparkled in every corner. The air smelled of cardamom and jasmine. Music danced through the gardens as Kaif led her outside and helped her into the royal baghghi.

They rode together through the village path, the people bowing and cheering for their young Varenshah and his queen. For the first time, Kaif did not feel the weight of his curse—but rather, the warmth of her presence beside him. The wind played with her dupatta. Her laughter rose like a bell into the night. And for a moment, all was well.

But the eastern wing stirred.

From the ancient hallway, the forgotten door creaked open slightly—just enough.

Later that night, as the couple returned and Mehrunisa walked alone through the perfumed corridors, something cold brushed her shoulder. She turned, her breath catching in her throat.

There, standing near the edge of the eastern wing, a woman shimmered into sight—draped in regal silks, her face veiled, her aura dark and ancient.

Chand Sultana.

“You… you are the key,” she hissed.

Mehrunisa took a step back. But her body would not move further. Her eyes locked onto the queen’s burning gaze.

“Come to me, child. Come to where your fate awaits.”

The ground beneath her feet seemed to vanish as a strange force pulled her toward the old door. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her heart thundering.

And then—darkness.

Kaif returned minutes later to find her missing. His chest tightened, rage and terror clashing in his veins. He called for every guard, every servant.

But deep within the palace, a spirit laughed—a cruel, triumphant laugh—as the queen-to-be fell unconscious at her feet.

Author’s Note 🌹

Thank you so much for reading this chapter of Whispers of the Crimson Rose. Your support means the world to me as I continue weaving this tale of mystery, love, and destiny within the haunting halls of Castle Varenshah.

If you're enjoying the story, I would be incredibly grateful if you could share it with your friends, reading groups, or on your social platforms. Every read, every recommendation helps this story reach more hearts and eyes—and brings it one step closer to the recognition it truly deserves.

Your comments, votes, and shares are the wind beneath my creative wings. Let's grow this gothic romance together. 🖤

With gratitude and rose-scented ink,
Kiranhafeez.