Page 147 of A King's Oath

“Something fancy but junk.”

“Lasagne, arancini and lemon iced tea.”

“They will serve us this menu at…” she checked the clock. “Five in the evening?”

“I can be persuasive…”

His doorbell buzzed and she pushed him off — “Go. I will blame you for killing my dinner appetite.”

“I’ll work it up again for you,” he playfully tugged at her bathrobe binding before turning and disappearing through the door. Avantika went to the vanity stand, running a comb through her wet hair. She hummed idly and paused. Why was there no noise of crockery on the other side? Weren’t they serving the food he had ordered?

She chucked her comb and walked through their connecting door, only to come face-to-face with a familiar face, his hands up in gestures. His eyes met hers and widened. His arms dropped to his sides.

“Umm…” Avantika looked from him to her boyfriend. Then, raised one tentative hand — “Hi, Harsh. Long time.”

26. French Romance

Dressed and ready, they sat around the dining table in Samarth’s room, the fancy but ‘junk’ Italian lunch/snack cooling between them. Avantika wanted to eat more than the few delicate forkfuls she had taken since they sat around but the tension between Samarth and Harsh was thick. She couldn’t understand it. Were they mad at each other? Was Harsh livid at Samarth? Or was Samarth angry and running out of patience? Their equation had always been a unique one. She hadn’t been able to fully grasp it at 15.

Officially, Harsh was Samarth’s bodyguard but Samarth treated him like a buddy as well as an older brother. Harsh, on the other hand, had devoted himself to his prince but also snapped at him as and when needed. It was a weird relationship and to her eyes, it still looked just the same.

“Eat, Ava, it’ll get cold,” Samarth clipped.

Thank god!

“Yes. Harsh, try this arancini, it’s very good!” She served one on his plate before taking another and biting into it. Her gaze met Samarth’s over the ball and he smirked. The fried gooey cheesy ball turned lava in her mouth. She choked. His smirk widened.

“Ehh,” Harsh pushed a glass of water towards her and she drank gratefully, glaring at her boyfriend from the corner of her eyes.

“So, Harsh,” she set the glass down. “Will Nawanagar people plan a grand vidaai for Kunwarji?”

He frowned. Samarth started laughing.

What?Harsh gestured with his hands. After all these years, she understood his most basic signs.

“I have decided,” Samarth started, eyes on Harsh. “That I will move away from Nawanagar.”

Harsh showed no reaction. But Avantika felt everything bubbling inside her. As if this was the seal.

Up until now, for the last two days, it had just been a conversation between the two of them. Now a third person was involved — such an important third person to Samarth. If he was so fearlessly proclaiming this, then he was fully convinced of it himself.

“I will move to Argentina with Ava after we are married.”

Harsh’s eyes widened and his head snapped to her. She smiled, waving one tentative hand, then going back to her lasagne. She did not look up, even when Samarth launched into his monologue.

“Papa badly wants me to get married. I had no plans of ever humouring him. You know that. I promised Maarani’s parents that I wouldn’t commit, wouldn’t create any hurdles in Sharan’s claim to the throne. I was convinced that not marrying was the only solution. But things have changed. Ava is happy not having any claim to Nawanagar, and when we move away to Argentina and raise our family there, we will raise them like normal children. Like Maan bhai and Samriddhi bhabhi were living inNeelambaag. Except, we will never come back. I mean, I will shuttle between homes, until Sharan is able enough to shoulder Papa’s responsibilities. But after that, I will take a step back.”

A chair scraped back and Avantika glanced up. Only to find Harsh standing over Samarth, his expression unreadable. Samarth wasn’t even halfway up from his chair when Harsh had thrown his arms around Samarth’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Avantika winced at his nose knocking into Harsh’s shoulder because that’s how tall he was but Samarth was laughing, squeezing his friend/bodyguard/brother’s back and thumping to the rhythm of his laughter.

Harsh pulled back, looked between the two of them, then gestured —Go.

“So happy to get rid of me?” Samarth clawed his hair back. Now that it was drying, it was falling back onto his forehead.

Harsh scowled, then made a gesture between the three of them, then more signs.

“What will you do there?” Samarth frowned.

More gestures.

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