Page 213 of A King's Oath

“Hi,” she nodded, panic clear in her eyes even as her words were calm.

He opened his mouth, a lot of questions on the tip of his tongue. But the tiny back with its breaths going up and down stalled him. She understood that too, and her shoulders relaxed. Instead, Samarth asked — “Do you need help?”

She glanced from him to the broken buckle in her hand.

“Thanks, I’ve got it.”

Ava began to turn but he stepped forward — “Let me hold her while you fix it.”

“I said I have got it, thank you.”

He stood back and waited. Patience was one commodity he had in spades. Now that he was under control, he could wait forever. She tried knotting the belt into the broken loop of the car seat. It came right off. She tried pushing it into the loop singlehandedly. It wouldn’t go. It was broken for good.

She pressed some contact on her mobile, pushed it between her ear and her shoulder and blitzed out in rapid-fire French. She was so quick, and so hassled that he only caught a few phrases —Where are you? Can you come pick us up… The seat buckle broke… Uber is 35 minutes away… No problem.

She made another call, and shot out about the same request. Her face told him that whoever she had called wasn’t coming either.Her daughter whined and she patted her back, working again to try and fix the belt. Samarth winced. It had been so long since she had held her on her shoulder. His unending patience was wearing thin.

He thought he would break before she did when she turned and cast her eyes behind him. He followed them. The clubhouse and the way out the main gate were empty.

She reached behind and pulled out her phone from her back pocket again. Checked something. Then — “Do you have a car?”

“No.”

Her perfect curved eyebrows scrunched as she checked her phone again.

“What do you need? I can call a car?”

“I need to leave immediately. Can you…” She clicked her phone lock, then looked at him, hesitant. “Would you mind holding her in the backseat?

“I…” Samarth glanced from her to the little girl.

“I have to navigate the autoroute and her booster seatbelt broke.”

“Alright.”

“You’ll find taxis where we are going.”

“It’s alright,” he held his arms out. She closed the door and strode around to the other side, opening the door behind the passenger seat. Samarth marched up to her and got in, feeling the cool interiors of her car that smelled faintly of… his perfume. The one that he had stopped using years ago. Eight years ago to be exact.

“Wear your seatbelt.”

He pulled the seatbelt on and held his arms out. He could see her debating, planning to pull away. A long moment passed. She checked her daughter, then slowly leaned in and passed her into his arms. Samarth felt his whole body warm over. The spirited girl who had galloped her horse without holding its reins now curled up in his chest, like a baby.

“I’ll try not to speed but just hold her safe.”

His arms instantly tightened around her. She whined, her eyes scrunching tight. He gentled his hold until it was firm but not strangling. On Ava, she had looked big but in his arms, now, here, she felt like a… a baby. A tiny baby. Curled like this, she fit into his forearms. How old was she? Seven, if…

“Mmm…” her tiny head felt heavy on his chest as it wriggled, her ponytail loosened after all her shenanigans. Her eyelashes were so long, so thick, resting on her bright face. She was so beautiful. All Ava. Even her upper lip had a tiny dark birthmark. From the get-go.

So preoccupied was he in his observation that he didn’t even realise when they had driven out of the resort and towards the autoroute. The stoned slope path ran from between verdant yellowing vineyards and he finally raised his gaze from her to the rearview mirror. Ava’s eyes were on him.

So much. To say. To plead. To confess. To ask. Would he get the opportunity? Or the time? She turned her gaze back to the road in front of her and he doubted it. For now, as she drove, the little girl buried her head tighter into his chest and he felt a concave indent itself there for her, like it had for her mother. He didn’t want to breathe. Didn’t want her to wake up yet. She smelled so familiar. Of her mother’s perfume and the leather and manure and wood of his legacy. The wishes and desires of his heart were at war. How could he want what he wanted when he had swornoff it? How could he crave what he was craving when he had destroyed Ava’s life over it? How was this happening and how had this happened in the last eight years?

“Mama…” she mumbled on his chest, her little hands coming to scrunch his shirt. Samarth glanced down in panic, only to find her eyes still closed but her mouth curved in a smile.

“Yes, baby?” Ava responded.

“Eclair.”

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