Page 123 of A King's Oath

The shock on his face, that deadpan expression, finally gave way to a grin.

“You are not joking, right?”

She pointed a finger to the kitchen pantry. One suitcase was already packed and ready.

“I have one more in my room that I was going to finish before you woke up screaming my name!”

He launched at her, his big body flattening her against the headrest of the sofa. She laughed, circling her arms around him.

“Wait,” he pulled away. “I have been counting down the minutes like a time bomb and you just sat there letting me?”

“Yes, Princess,” she patted the top of his head that was, for a change, accessible to her. “This grew but the thing inside it doesn’t grow.”

He pushed her hand away, making her laugh louder.

“My bag was right there.”

“Careful, Ava. You’ve declared war with this prank. And you know my interest rate.”

Her mouth snapped shut. She blinked rapidly at him, unable to formulate any words, forget sentence. He just smirked and popped off her.

“Let’s pack your bag and run. We can talk at the airport!”

————————————————————

They went through their check-in at the airport with AirPods shared, music blaring, snagging his phone to switch songs. It wasn’t time for his Krishna bhajan so he let her do most of the DJing. But when she set A.P. Dhillon, he gave up. He grabbed his phone back and toggled the playlist.

“I’ll change, give me,” she tried to pull it out of his hand. He took it out of her reach.

“You’ll put some slow song. I want quirky! Samarth!” She rammed her shoulder into his side. He held his hand up, scrolling. “Samarth!!!”

“Samarth?”

They stopped on their way to the First Class Lounge at the sound of that soft, smooth feminine voice. Avantika observed Samarth’s face before checking out who she was. He didn’t look guilty. So it wasn’t one of his groupies or staff or team members. She cocked her head. She could deal with whoever else it was.

Avantika pushed her head across his side and frowned. The woman didn’t look like somebody she would have to deal with. She was old. Looked pretty old, even with the botox perfection that stretched her bright face. There was a whole seven-course makeup routine going on for her, with foundation and contouring and everything else. Her lips were an elegant soft orange. A rare shade but it suited her so well. In a long, loose silk shirt over matching loose silk trousers, an Hermes scarfwrapped in a loop knot, she exuded elegance. And royalty. Was she from Nawanagar royal family? Was she his stepmother?

Avantika peered closer. No. She had seen photos of his stepmother. She was the complete opposite of this.

“Jai Dwarkadhish,” Samarth folded his hands, his phone sandwiched between them. “How are you?”

“I am well. What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing this side?”

“Catching a flight to Florence.”

“Oh, I thought you were actively working in the kingdom now.”

“Partly, yes.”

“This is a holiday, then?”

“No, it’s work.”

“Hmm…” the lady nodded, her eyes roving and finally landing on her. “Won’t you introduce your friend?”

“Of course. This is Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior. Avantika, this is Vaibhavi Kumari Vaghela of Sanand.”

A Gujarati princess then, as she had guessed. Avantika immediately folded her hands together — “Namaste, Kumari saheb.”

---