Aanya Rathore is not having a good time — or a good life, technically. The sole heiress of the illustrious Rathore family of Jaipur, she is sharp, beautiful, furiously intelligent, and absolutely plagued by misfortune. She collapses without warning, her health is a disaster, and three years ago, someone she trusted destroyed everything she loved. She died once. Now she's back — reborn, sharp as a blade, and ready to burn the entire city down on her quest for revenge.
But first, she has to deal with Pandit Anand Shastri.
The ancient family astrologer has consulted charts, consulted sub-charts, consulted the sub-sub-charts, and arrived at a conclusion so absurd that Aanya nearly fires him on the spot: her Kaal Sarp Dosha is catastrophically severe, her negative energy is so powerful that normal remedies won't work, and the only cure — as advised by some sacred text no one has actually seen — is to marry someone of pure spiritual energy. A practising Buddhist monk, ideally. Immediately, preferably.
Enter Tenzin Sonam.
Twenty-three years old, baby-faced, deeply earnest, and absolutely incapable of staying quiet for more than forty-five seconds, Tenzin is the youngest and most beloved monk of Thiksey Monastery in Ladakh. His masters adore him. His fellow monks adore him. The monastery's rescue cat adores him. Everyone agrees he is a good boy with excellent karma.
No one agrees he should be sent to Jaipur to marry a terrifying heiress with a bad aura.
And yet — here he is. Standing at the gate of Rathore House with one small bag, his prayer beads, and the firm conviction that this is a sacred duty and he will be absolutely fine.
He is not absolutely fine.