“End it,” he said without preamble.

“End what, sir?” Rhystan asked.

Markham did not look up from his papers. “This unpalatable distraction you have with Rao’s daughter.”

Rhystan stiffened. “Unpalatable?”

“We need to reduce tensions with the natives, and she’s one of them.”

Rhystan suppressed his growl of rage, knowing he was toeing the line of misconduct by challenging the man. He’d expected it from Markham, whose prejudice against the locals was obvious, but in recent weeks, Rhystan had become acutely aware of the hypocrisy of other officers in the British regime, particularly the Company, taking what they wanted without consequence and trampling the rights of the locals with impunity. They wanted the lands and the riches, but scorned the people who lived there. Including the maharaja and his daughter.

After spending so much time with Sarani and seeing things through her eyes, the duplicity dug at him. He’d seen those underhanded treaties for what they were—cheating local princes out of power and autonomy, while their lands were pillaged. Rhystan had even cast aside his pride and written to his father, hoping his and Sarani’s concerns might be aired in chambers, but he should have said more. Done more. He blinked at the vice admiral and frowned. Had his letters even been delivered?

“May I ask on whose authority, Vice Admiral?”

Cold eyes met his. “The Duke of Embry.”

Hearing his father’s name was a blow. Rhystan’s mind raced. How would the duke have learned about his relationship with the princess? Edward was the only one who had been privy to his interest in the girl, but the duke also had many connections in India, including the vice admiral.

“It’s not that simple,” he admitted. “I care for her.”

What looked like disgust tinged the officer’s features as a sneer appeared. “She’s a half breed.”

The slur to her mixed origins made Rhystan see red, but before he could launch himself across the table and grab the vile man’s throat in his hands, two soldiers stepped forward to restrain him.

“She’s bloody royalty,” Rhystan growled, abandoning the hold on his temper.

“You forget your place, boy.” The vice admiral rose, his revulsion clear now. “I’ve watched you for months casting pearls before swine. You’re a disgrace to the entire British regiment.” He nodded to his men, his lip curling. “Get this sorry sack of shit out of here, and make sure he’s on the next convoy bound for London. Let his father deal with him.”

* * *

Sarani rose from her bath, jasmine-infused water dripping down her skin as her handmaidens rushed forward to enclose her body in warm drying cloths. Her thoughts, as usual, centered on Rhystan…the handsome young commander who had stolen her heart.