Page 83 of A King's Oath

“But now it’s different.”

“Different how?” She fisted her hands on her bare waist. Her mother smiled, that soft smile after all the toughness on her beautiful face.

“Now I don’t have much time with you, do I? Kresha will marry and go this year, then next year it’s your turn. When will you ever live in this palace again like this with all of us…”

“I told you pehle also,” Avantika whirled around to throw her makeup bag and toiletries into her suitcase. “I have no plans of marrying.”

“That’s enough now. Joking about it is fine. But after Kresha’s wedding, we will start looking for you. There are already some Houses asking. If there is somebody you like, tell us…”

“There is nobody, Mummy.”

“Then why this no-marriage morcha?”

“Just,” she shrugged. “I am not ready.”

“Then when will you be ready?”

Avantika smiled, whirled again, clapped her hands together — “How about never?”

Her mother rolled her eyes.

“Go have your Paris party. But remember, I am not taking this childish behaviour for longer now.”

“Whatever you say,” Avantika held her curing wand up. “Now will you tell me that you’ll miss me?”

“No,” she asserted. “Because you will be talking to me twice a day.”

Avantika chucked the curling wand and rushed into a hug. Her mother’s arms tightened around her — “My mad, mad Ava. Go, get ready.”

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Avantika sliced the dinner roll and slathered butter leisurely over it, lounging back in her First Class pod, Surinder Kaur’s Punjabi music thumping in her ears. Her iPad and Apple Pencil were lying on the side, waiting for some attention. She had a dozen collaterals to sketch for her first day. But those could wait. She had the whole night to paint them. Flights hadn’t been her best sleeping places.

She reached for the dish of creamy Lasagna and forked some into her mouth. Even after leaving full-time cricket years ago, her metabolism had still favoured her. She could eat the whole world in dinner and still her stomach would be flat the next day. Kresha, not so much. Avantika sputtered, polishing off her dinner roll and uncrossing her sock-clad feet. She could behave in as un-princess-like manner as she liked here. She wasn’t Kumari or Raje here. That’s why she had fought her way to a job in Paris. A life where she couldlive.

“Your Highness,” the Air hostess greeted her just as her feet touched the floor. So much for not having her princess life follow her all the way to Paris. But then, this was it. Once she landed, she was just Avantika Scindia. Ava.

“Would you like some dessert?”

“In a while,” Avantika smiled, holding up her buttery fingers. “I need to wash my hands first.”

“This way, please.”

Avantika followed her down the First Class aisle, the pods in different stages of closing. The lights weren’t dimmed yet for the night. It was still just 11.30 after all. She passed the final front seats and the familiarity of the figure there made her freeze. Sharp nose, hair pushed back from his forehead, tanned wheat skin, eyes focused on a magazine, food half-finished by his side. Tall. So tall. Even his head popped over the seat’s edge.

“Your H…” Avantika scampered ahead before the Air hostess could complete that word. She rushed into the lavatory and closed the door behind her. Pushing her back against the door, she realised she was panting. When she glanced up at the mirror, her skin was red, her hair in disarray, her cheeks stretched in a smile she didn’t remember ever smiling. Why was she blushing after all these years and after all that had happened? Or not happened?

Just the sight of him… Avantika hyperventilated.

“Relax,” she told herself. “Relax.”

She threw her head back on the door, thumping it slowly, bringing her beating heart under control. Maybe he wouldn’t realise it. Maybe she would go back to her seat, work on her designs and land tomorrow without speaking to him.

Avantika swallowed, looking back at her reflection in the mirror. Her lipstick had smudged off along with the lasagna she had hogged. She hadn’t applied any foundation or under-eye coverage. But her eyes were popping thanks to the multiple mascara coats, thank god. Her hair… she had nothing she could do about it now. It was as short and straight as it used to be inschool. The side bangs fell limply down to her cheek after she had kept them tucked behind her ear. She didn’t even have a brush here to volumize it.

“Ok, ok, chill.”

She opened the tap, washed her hands with some clear soap, then dried them thoroughly. She ran her fingers through her hair, flipping it one way, then the other. Left. Yes, her right profile was better than her left. She fluffed up some bounce in her bangs, pulled her frankly disgusting white hoodie over white ribbed leggings in place. Who asked her to wear such comfy non-sexy clothes on an airplane?! Kresha had even taunted but did she ever listen?!

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