Harsh occupied his seat at the grand dining table. The moment he sat down, the man beside him shifted and moved two chairs closer to the head chair- currently vacant, leaving Harsh at the edge with three empty chairs between them.

His heart clenched sharply as he was deliberately left out. However, the moment the feeling registered in his mind, he smirked to himself to combat the unwanted sadness.

It was their loss. Not his.

Agney Rajvansh strode inside the dining hall after the ornate double doors were held open for him. He stopped before his chair, pulling off his navy blue coat and draped it over the backrest. After methodically occupying his seat, his unreadable gaze flicked over all of them.

"Where's prince Kshitij?" He asked as his eyes stilled at the empty seats between Harsh and a flawless handsome man with a bored expression. 

A woman in her mid-forties- not the PA, leaned near Agney's ear and murmured something the rest of them couldn't hear. 

Harsh's eyes roamed over the three men besides him and Agney at the table. Were they his half brothers or his half cousins?

He had not much information on the royals of Ajmerganj other than Viraj Rajvansh's death eight years ago. He read an article when he was twelve and discovered that Agney Rajvansh wasn't even meant to be an heir. He became the King after his older brother's death, the Crown prince. 

Agney murdered his own brother for the throne. Impressive. 

When Harsh read the news, he was joyous to know his enemies were destroying themselves. Their ruination was his salvation. The amount of loathing he possesed for them couldn't be described in just words.

His eyes scanned them, all of a sudden realizing they were very attractive and eye-catchy.

Who would even look at him among these Greek Gods with superior genes? His stomach churned with bitterness, especially the one closest to him who could put any model to shame with his perfectly symmetrical face, sharp contour, smooth skin and flawless sleek hair falling before his charcoal killer eyes.

Harsh shook his head. He had no chance to win against him.

"Some of us are starving," killer eyes pointed out in his suave tone.

Harsh blinked and nodded subconsciously. 

Fair point.

He turned to watch Agney who gazed back at killer eyes without a hint of emotion. 

The woman from earlier was no where to be found.

"Are you a pig?" Another voice sassed.

Harsh observed the man across them who had retorted to killer eyes. 

He was older, calmer and very tired in his mannerism. The tired man watched back killer eyes with a 'are you kidding me?' look. His gaze accidentally met Harsh's for a brief moment, before he looked away, staring back at killer eyes. 

Harsh didn't know what to make of that eye-contact.

"Hungry, actually," killer eyes deadpanned. 

Harsh snorted under his breath. A disapproving glare was thrown his way from the older man. Harsh looked away just as the double doors of the hall opened and strolled in a buff, gym freak around twenty.

Must be Kshitij.

Harsh's brows furrowed. Wait...

He glanced back at his carbon copy with a cold expression, seated across Harsh.

Then back at Kshitij who was facing Agney with a smug haughtiness. Harsh's eyes darted back to his apathetic copy, though leaner.

Kshitij had a bitchy face whereas Kshitij 2.0 had somehow  achieved to school his emotions with that same fiery face and possess an unreadable expression, almost akin to Ageny's.

Twins that couldn't be more different.

Kshitij bowed with nonchalance, clasping his hands behind him. "A very good evening to you, bhai," his head slowly lifted up as he addressed him. "Did you summon me?"

Agney straightened, back ram-rod. It almost appeared like a period drama. Harsh leaned back, enjoying this historical show.

"Is your memory dysfunctional? Or non-existent? I think it's both, since you clearly don't remember one of the cardinal rules of family dinner."

Someone sniggered. 

Harsh smirked too, thoroughly entertained. At least the bastard has a good sense of sass.

Kshitij frowned, a nerve ticking on his forehead. Though, he grinned a second later. "Pardon me, brother. But I won't dine with a prostitute's filth if that constitutes your definition of a family dinner."

Anger surged through Harsh as he saw red. Audacious!

"Once upon a time, your daddy had a great time fucking a filthy pussy," he retorted sharply, and smiled. "He didn't complain."

There was a snicker, harsher this time. Harsh glanced at Mr. Killer eyes who was devilishly chuckling, watching between Harsh and the bull.

Kshitij scowled. Harsh flinched.

"Both of you, mind your language! You're royals, not slum dwellers," the man across Harsh chided.

Harsh rolled his eyes, slouching in his seat as he side-eyed Kshitij.

"Facts." His head bobbed in mock sympathy.

"Harsh, don't provoke him."

He rolled his eyes again and stared at the fussy man before him. "Who are you to stop me? My Mum?"

"Prince Kshitij, this is my only warning. Sit, and dine peacefully without creating a scene. Or you know the consequences."

Harsh internally shivered at the dark look in Agney's voice, before the tyrant draped a napkin over his lap in a fancy, over-the board manner.

The wild bull gazed at his- what Harsh concluded- brothers. 

Kshitij 2.0 shook his head, communicating telepathically in a twin language to him.

The man across Harsh sharply nudged his chin to the seat between him and Kshitij 2.0.

Kshitij trudged to the chair and pulled it back stiffly.

"Walk like you own the world," Agney instructed.

Kshitij's back straightened immediately, lips pursing. His angry gaze clashed with Harsh as he sat down.

"Coward," Mr. Killer eyes drawled lazily.

Harsh turned to him, before cocking a brow to himself.

Mr. Killer eyes stared back with a frown. "What?"

Harsh shook his head and looked away. Was this how brothers acted?

Agney pressed a bell. 

Servers rushed inside the hall to serve them dinner the fanciest way possible. All of a sudden, his mind went blank as he failed to recall formal table manners his mother taught him. 

Was the inner spoon used for the first course or main course?

He frowned.

"Harsh, what's wrong?"

He looked up, finding the man across him confused at his dazed expression. 

"Nothing?"

The man's eyes flicked down to his food, before taking in his curled palms and restless fingers. "Don't think too much about it." He smiled, a slow tired one.

Harsh felt weird as his chest felt warm with a foreign sensation. He crushed it immediately and scowled.

"Whatever," he grumbled, looking down.

"Can't believe our standards have degraded to... this," Kshitij commented, after done chewing. 

Harsh glared from under his lashes. "You should be glad you're getting a level, princey."

"Enough," the fussy man jumped in between them.

"What are you? Police?" Harsh edged. 

"Everyone," Agney considered them all, "introduce yourselves."

Kshitij snorted.

"Prithvi," the fussy, tired man nodded, face neutral.

"Kshitish."

Harsh blinked, turning to Kshitij 2.0 who watched him calmly. 

"Yuvan," Mr. Killer eyes added.

Kshitish blankly nudged his head towards his scowling twin. "Kshitij."

Harsh lifted his chin, nodding thoughtfully. "Harsh," said he, tersely. 

"Please, no one wants to know," Kshitij chuckled coldly.

Kshitij's laughter faltered the moment he turned to share it with Prithvi. The man stared at him with a blank face, not at all amused. He rolled his eyes and turned to glare at Harsh who smiled back cheekily.

It was entertaining to annoy him.

"Harsh, meet me in my study at nine thirty, sharp," Agney ordered without looking at him.

"If I don't? What will you do?" He asked lazily, rolling his eyes.

"We will get good riddance of you." Kshitij smiled back innocently and clamped his mouth around his fork.

His eyes narrowed. Someone wanted him to fall.

He smiled brightly. He wouldn't fall without taking his well wisher along with him.

Kshitij watched him suspiciously, before Harsh ignored him, rolling his eyes.

"Weirdo."