Vivaan struggled against the heavy iron chains binding his wrists to the iron chair of the chamber. The room smelled of damp earth and ancient secrets. Beside him, Naina lay on a wooden diwan, still unconscious, her breathing shallow.

His vision finally cleared. The man standing before him wasn't wearing a mask. He didn't need one. He was dressed in a crisp, charcoal-gray suit, looking every bit the sophisticated royalty he claimed to be.