Page 148 of A King's Oath

“I won’t need a bodyguard there.”

More gestures, something resembling a small child.

“That’s a long way away,” Samarth chuckled, turning his eyes to her. “But we’ll see.”

Avantika smirked, understanding the question through reverse engineering. She had been higher up on that meritorious list than Samarth.

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Dating Samarth Sinh Solanki, Kunwar of Nawanagar and Number 1 of Gir Zephyrs was not an easy feat. The man wouldn’t show his face for weeks on end. And he wouldn’t get off the phone on a daily basis. Avantika wasn’t complaining though! Like a loony teenager all over again, she was happy spending her days texting him, sometimes without a break, and nights on FaceTime, doing other stuff because they had talked enough sanskari stuff in daylight.

In return, Samarth ensured that he always, always, always looped his flights through Paris instead of Dubai. He would book his travel with at least a day’s layover in Paris, sometimes longer if his schedule permitted. They took two more tiny holidays together when he was around. One to the French Alps for a weekend of skiing where they went all competitive and raced till they dropped. And the other to Lyon at the peak of winter.

Core memories were adding to the trips they had taken as kids. From Badrinath to those weekends spent on the slopes and markets of Doon, they had come a long way. And had a longer way to go.

“…and I have a game in Argentina this February. I’ve scheduled a meeting to discuss my citizenship.”

“Will they expect something out of you?” She wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder as she walked down Rue St. Dominique on this cold, windy evening.

“I don’t think so. They didn’t expect me to consider in the first place. The fact that I am open to taking a meeting is a plus for them.”

“Why do they want you to live there?”

“Polo is big in Argentina. Off-season, when international polo tournaments are quiet, they have a ton of domestic tournaments.”

“But you won’t leave your team.”

“I can still play domestic leagues. Like your IPL.”

“Aaahh…” she pushed her muffler closer up to her mouth to keep the cold wind at bay. And stopped short. At this hour of dusk, the Eiffel Tower lights blinked on in the distance. It was magical. “Samarth?”

“Yes, Ava?”

“Do you realise that we have lived in Paris for six months and never once come to the Eiffel Tower.”

“It’s a tourist trap.”

“Still…” she pulled her phone off her ear, raised it, balanced the brightness, and snapped a photograph. She pulled up his chat and hit send.

“What will I do with this tower’s photo?” His voice blared and she plastered her phone back to her ear. “Send me the girl’s.”

She blushed openly, because he wasn’t here to gloat over it. Then held her phone out again, turned and snapped a selfie.

“Happy?”

“Very… hey, Ava, Gopi just sent a message.”

“I know. His bachelor and Kresha’s bachelorette clubbed weekend. At our winter palace in Gwalior.”

“Won’t it be weird?”

“Why?”

“Your sister thinks I broke up with you and made you cry.”

“That was just one day when she was angry after I cried the day we broke up.”

“Still.”

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