The main hall of the Ranawat palace had been transformed into something closer to a private royal atelier than a family sitting room. Racks of lehengas stood like silent soldiers in every shade imaginable, deep garnet, molten gold, soft ivory, emerald, and every variation of rose and maroon. Velvet trays of jewellery lay open on low tables, diamonds and polki stones catching the light with cold, expensive fire. Designers from three cities stood at respectful attention beside their collections, hands folded, expressions carefully neutral while the women of the family occupied the center of the room like queens holding court.

Priya, Nandini, Meera, and Dadisa sat in a loose semi-circle, fabric spilling across their laps. Kyra sat a little apart, quieter than the rest, her eyes thoughtful. Beside Vaishali, Kynat was almost buried in a cascade of lehengas, deep reds, soft ivories, emerald greens, and one particularly striking dusty-rose piece that kept drawing her gaze.