Page 253 of A King's Oath

“I owe you nothing.”

“I’ll bring my accounts ledger tonight, you bring yours. Let’s compare over wine.”

Her eyes fell shut in exasperation.

“My Papa says that when I was born, our Pandyaji proclaimed that my planets make me a man who never loses. Keep trying, Ava. Let me explore newer, more creative ways.”

“Ready!!!” Brahmi came running out of her room, ready in her horse-riding gear from top to toe.

“Where do you think you are going?” Her mother asked, slyly sliding down his lap and onto the sofa cushion. “You don’t have your session today.”

“I want to practice with Papa!” She swung her mallet in the air, better than she had last time. “I can tell all my friends that my Papa is a polo player! I can show them also…”

“You can, baby,” Samarth tugged her close and kissed the side of her head. “And I am going to teach you everything I know about polo. But first I need to go to my hotel.”

“You are going?” She pushed away. “When will you come back?”

“In one hour, tops. I’ll run, grab my clothes and then run back.”

“You promise?”

Samarth swallowed the bitter pill of her insecurity and circled Brahmi in one arm while his other went around Ava — “I promise. I am coming back to both my girls in one hour. And when I come back, I am not leaving again.”

42. Ledgers, Records And Debts

He had set up the coffee table in record time.

Brahmi had wanted him to see ‘how she went to sleep.’ So he had sat through her bath time, then seen her go through a parade of night dresses until they both agreed that this was ‘it.’ Post which, she had settled into bed, discussed the breakfast menu and demanded that ‘white idli thing’ again and asked for a story. Ava had reached for her story books but he had drawn up his childhood stories from Hira ben and began narrating. This one of Krishna as a child when he had gone to steal makhan from a gopi’s house. She had caught hold of his hand and dragged him down the streets of Gokul to take him to his mother with proof that her beloved son was a thief. But in the village square, she had run into her in-laws and was forced to throw her chunari over her face.

“And then,” Samarth narrated. “When she left Krishna’s hand to throw her chunari over her forehead and eyes, he slyly caught the hand of her son and pushed it into hers. Her son was Krishna’s friend so you can imagine what he did.”

“Went with her,” Brahmi giggled, starry-eyed.

“Exactly.” He grinned. “When she reached Yashoda Maiya’s house and pushed the boy in front of her with a — “‘Here’s you beloved thief!’ Yashoda Maiya couldn’t stop laughing.”

Neither could Brahmi. She asked for another story but he had some errands to run, so he grabbed one of her storybooks, Winnie the Pooh, and promised a new Krishna story the next night. He had read her three pages of the illustrated book, discovering the merits of the story himself, then passed it to Ava when Brahmi’s eyes had gone half-droopy. He had quietly slipped out and prayed that his daughter would take a little longer to doze off because he still had the charcuterie board to set up with the treats he had ordered.

He was only halfway done when Brahmi’s door clicked open and then closed.

“Wait there, don’t come, Ava!” He whisper-shouted. She came anyway, in her nightly silk shorts and spaghetti top, her hair tied up, thinking she would rain on his parade. Samarth knew he was a lucky man when his gaze caught her bare calves, then raised up to her knees, up her stomach, those full breasts and to her bare face. Glowing but ready to sleep.

“Enjoy your wine and chocolates, shut off the main lights in the hall but leave the night light on for Brahmi, aah!” She squealed when he rose up and gathered her in his arms at the same time. She was still so tiny. “Samarth!”

“Shhh,” he strode around the coffee table to the sofa and lowered himself with her in his arms. Before she could protest, he stretched out and placed her between his legs, locking her effectively.

“Make another noise and Brahmi might wake up and then she will see there’s this chocolate party here, share it with us and notsleep all night, then be late for tomorrow’s riding lessons. It’s a vicious cycle, Ava. Wanna get into it?”

She huffed, her nostrils flaring like an irked horse. He tenderly caught her chin and brought her face around to his. Her brows were knitted in a frown, her mouth turned down.

“Hi,” he smiled.

Her head fell back on the sofa’s headrest and he cupped her nape, cradling it, massaging it. Her body instantly relaxed. So that was the magic key? Samarth got comfortable with her looped like a noodle between his legs and quietly kept rubbing her neck. Long moments passed. Long minutes. She didn’t say anything. He felt her breathing go shallow. Shallower. But her eyes were open, staring straight up.

“Is the wine chilled?” She asked.

“Of course it is,” he pecked her bare shoulder and leaned away to pour her a glass. He handed her the red and poured another one for himself. She sipped silently, still lost. And he let her be. That was the moment, sipping her favourite wine beside her, when Samarth realised that maybe she never got this in the last eight years. A night to relax, by herself, with somebody by her side to just be. Not talk, not ask, not chatter but just be. He hadn’t had such a night either but his was out of choice. Hers was out of compulsion.

“How is Harsh?” Ava asked, her first question that he hadn’t prompted.

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