She handed him the platter. “Why don’t I warm up a bowl of chicken makhni and rice for you.”

“Was Yash here for lunch?” Yash was scheduled to move into the governor’s mansion in a couple of weeks. He had a condo in San Francisco, and India had partially moved in with him, although she still ran her family’s yoga studio in Palo Alto. But if there was chicken makhni in the house, that could only mean that Yash had been over for a meal.

J-Auntie smiled fondly. Yash and Vansh were her favorite people on earth, much to their sisters’ chagrin. “Yes, Yashu came over with Ms. India but he left with your parents for a meeting. Ms. India is upstairs helping your grandmother and Esha with some yoga. Nisha brought baby Ram over and she’s with them.”

“Ram’s here?” Vansh couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. He grabbed the tea tray from the trolley. “I’ll take this up for you. Oh, and, J-Auntie, can you toss me a salad instead of the chicken makhni, please? I think I just ate seven of these sandwiches.”

If he could help it, Vansh preferred not to fill his body with chicken soaked in cream sauce like his brother, who had the eating habits of a portly Indian uncle. Or as their sisters put it, the appetite of a PMSing woman. Fortunately for Yash, he was as blessed in his metabolism as he was with everything else. Even more fortunately, he was in love with a yoga instructor who’d hopefully inspire him to better his eating habits so he didn’t have a heart attack in his forties.

Vansh couldn’t exactly complain about his own metabolism either, but what was the point of working out for hours every day if you didn’t respect your body? Vansh liked looking the way he looked, and the governor-elect of California certainly did not have a body like this.

Taking the tray with him, Vansh ran up to the suite on the third floor where his oldest cousin, Esha, and their grandmother lived.

Esha had never left the estate since she’d first moved here when she was eight, more than thirty years ago and long before Vansh’s birth. Her parents, HRH’s older brother and his wife, had died in a plane crash along with every other passenger on board except Esha, who had miraculously survived. But after the accident, Esha had started to have seizures, accompanied by visions when she came in contact with any new person.

“Look! The Baby Prince has arisen from his slumber!” Nisha called as Vansh carried the tray into the open living room that led to his grandmother’s and cousin’s bedrooms.

“A mere servant, Princess. I come bearing your favorite sweetmeats.”