The journey back to Delhi was very exhausting, considering the seven men and the princess only took one break throughout the whole trip by foot. However, it was late that afternoon that they arrived in the city; it was late enough for people to start closing up their shops or disassembling their vendors and stacking their wares away for the following day, but people still recognized Rajkumari Amisha Mani as she looked worn and tired walking hand in hand with a strange blond young man. Francis was particularly intimidated by the many who had stopped just to see their princess return. Many of them bowed their heads with praying hands extended, greeted her excitedly as she continued to walk.
"The rajkumari has returned!" one of the women said in Hindi.
"Has she?" the man she was speaking to asked, looking at the sight to believe it.
Cries of joy and happiness came from the people as they approached the princess and her seven heroes. Princess Amisha let go of Alfred's hand to return the favor of greeting her people, and a few small children ran up to her to hug her. Picking up a little boy of about three, she reached down and picked up another small child who was big enough to walk, putting them down afterwards as the men watched her greet her people as if they were her family. Alfred and Arthur both smiled, but the rest of the men were in awe at the fact that she practically oozed compassion.
"We are so glad you have returned!" a little girl said, looking up at the princess with her great dark eyes. Princess Amisha smiled down at her, responding in the same language.
"I am happy to be back," she told the little girl.
"Praise Shiva!" a man said, holding the princess' hand cordially after she put a child down. He placed her hand to his forehead, tears of joy running down his wrinkled, brown face.
"Yes, I am back," the princess answered.
After fifteen minutes of greeting her people, she rejoined Alfred, Arthur, Francis, Ivan, Matthew and the two English gentlemen to journey even farther to the palace at Delhi. It took about an hour and a half to reach their destination, and once they stopped in front of the grand structure, Princess Amisha immediately felt as though a burden were being lifted from her. As far as she knew, there were not going to be any more suitors, no more feelings of intimidation, and best of all, no more of the Raja Kumar Chatur's presence. She felt so free to do what she desired, even though she was a princess with a very limited amount of rights.
"I am home!" the princess exclaimed with serene ecstasy, putting her hands together as if in prayer. As soon as she began running up the front steps into the palace, the men followed her with Alfred going in first, followed by Francis, Arthur, Matthew, Ivan, Mr. Winston and Mr. Smith. They watched the princess look around the main hall nervously, hoping to see at least the prime minister or a few of her servant girls. The silence and lack of presence frightened her—where was everybody?
"Father? Prime Minister Chowdry?" she called out in Hindi. "I have returned! Hello?!"
"Who is that?" a familiar voice questioned.
The men were the first to notice Sadar standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the sight of the once-missing princess as her attention caught him. His face turned to a look of happiness and surprise at seeing the ebony-clad beauty at the bottom. At an instant, he adjusted his slacks and walked down the staircase rapidly, approaching the princess much slower afterwards in order to process her image and the fact that she had returned safely.
"Your Highness," he said softly. "Is it really you?"
"Yes, Prime Minister!" Princess Amisha said. "It is me, Rajkumari Amisha Mani! Do you not recall my face?"
"I do, but…we thought you were dead!" Sadar said with disbelief.
"No, Mr. Chowdry! I am here! I am alive!" she said, hugging him carelessly because she did not have a sari covering her appropriately. The Prime Minister returned the hug and let her go, looking down at her beautiful, finely-chiseled face and intense blue eyes with happiness in his face.
"Oh, you really have returned!" he smiled. "However, your father…hasn't taken your disappearance very well."
"Why is that?" Mr. Winston asked, stepping in front of the princess. Sadar sighed and closed his eyes—this was not going to be a good answer.
"He has fallen ill," the prime minister revealed.
The princess looked at him in shock, her eyes widening with apprehension and deep concern for her father. At an instant, she ran up the stairs to the left hallway where the royal bedchambers were. Her father's door was open, and a servant girl came out of it, amazed to see her princess approach her.
"You have returned! My goodness!" she said, bowing deeply to the princess. "The Maharaja is ill. He has been for two days now."
"Has he?" the princess asked in their native tongue, her face flushing with nervousness.
"Yes, since you went missing. He has not been the same," the servant girl answered, touching her beautiful face. "My mistress! You look tired and you are dirty! Shall I draw your bath?"
"Not at this moment, thank you," Princess Amisha said, declining her request calmly. "I would like to see my father."
"Are you sure?" the servant girl questioned.
"Yes, now please let me in his bed chamber," the princess ordered.
"As you wish," the girl said.
Moving aside, Princess Amisha walked into her father's room, looking as a British doctor was checking his vitals. The Maharaja was wide awake, and he was not in his royal finery—there was no turban on his head, no bejeweled uniform, and his facial hair was neatly trimmed. He really did look different, and there was a sallow tint to his tanned complexion. His appearance made her nervous as he sat up in bed under the covers.
"Father?" the princess asked. The doctor's attention was caught by the exotically beautiful princess, and he just
looked up at her. The Maharaja's face lit up with a joyous smile as she bent down to hug him.
"My Amisha! Darling! I thought I lost you!" he exclaimed happily, excited that she had returned. Tears of happiness streamed down his face as they shared a warm embrace of reunification.
"I was so scared, father!" Princess Amisha exclaimed, sitting on the bed with him.
"What happened to you, my dear?" the Maharaja asked his daughter, noticing the cut on her wrist the raja had done. "What happened to your wrist? It is cut!"
"Father, you will be very shocked to hear this, but the raja wanted to kill me in a ritual," Princess Amisha confessed, remembering the painful memories. "It was terrible. Ask the men who saved me! They will tell you the truth! It was Raja Kumar!"
"Good grief!" the Maharaja exclaimed angrily. "What has he done to you?!"
"He wanted to kill her because he thought her blood was the key to immortality," a familiar voice said.
The princess looked up and saw Alfred and the rest of the men standing in the doorway, entering the room one by one as they stared at the Maharaja, whose lower lip trembled with deep concern. He was eager and anxious to know what had happened to his daughter, but when he realized that his own guests had been valiant enough to save her and bring her back to the palace, he felt so full of pride.
"You saved her," he said with reverence. "You all saved her, and for that, I am eternally grateful."
"We were going to obey you, Your Majesty, but because of the riot in Delhi not too long ago, we were so anxious to save her, Ivan, Matthew, and these two fine archaeologists. They were captured in the riot," Arthur explained.
"That riot was the work of the raja," Alfred said.
"I knew there was a riot, and I put a stop to it immediately," the Maharaja revealed. "I knew those uniforms looked familiar—the invaders were put in prison and they were identified as being from Calcutta. For that, they get the death penalty for attacking their own country."
"That is a good to hear," the princess said, looking into his dark eyes. "Oh, father! Why have you been so sick?"
"I vowed not to eat a single stitch of food until you returned," her father answered. The princess' eyes widened in shock.
"You have been fasting this whole time? For me?" she questioned.
"Daughter, you are my life, my ray of sunshine. Without you, I am nothing, not even the supreme ruler of India. You are everything to me," the Maharaja stated, holding his daughter's hand. She looked at him worriedly, looking abck at Alfred, Arthur and Francis in particular for some kind of relief to distract her.
"Please," she said. "Eat something, father. You will only get sicker."
"Dinner has not come yet," the Maharaja contradicted.
"I can make it happen," the princess responded with determination. "Please! I have returned, and it is the only way you will be well."
"Your Highness," the doctor said. "Did you just say that eating is the only way he would get well again?"
"Why, yes. Do you understand Hindi?" the princess asked, going back to speaking English as her voice was filled with even more worry. "He is going to be alright, correct?"
"Yes, by the looks of it," the doctor replied. "He needs rest and he needs to eat. Fasting is not healthy for a man his age."
"I understand," the princess said. "Should he start to eat right away?"
"Yes, in fact, you were right," the doctor said, placing his stethoscope in his briefcase. He stood up from the bedside chair and bowed before the princess respectfully. "I will be back tomorrow, Your Highness, if needed."
"Thank you," Princess Amisha said, bowing her head over praying hands.
Alfred walked over to the king slowly, sitting in the seat the doctor was sitting in. He watched the Maharaja lay back on the pillows, looking at the men who stood before him in the room. He was well aware that he had specifically instructed the young men not to go and save her for their own sake, but because they did, he was extremely grateful and proud of them for saving Rajkumari Amisha Mani.
"Alfred Jones?" the Maharaja asked weakly, looking at the handsome, blond young man sitting by his bedside. "That is your name, is it not?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Alfred answered as Princess Amisha walked behind him and placed her beautiful, smooth white hands on his shoulders. The Maharaja noticed the natural chemistry between his daughter and Alfred as they stared into each other's blue eyes. Then, they both looked at the ruler in his bed, who continued studying them with his great dark eyes.
"I want to know about everything that happened, daughter," he commanded with a stern sigh.