Page 191 of A King's Oath

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“No need. You stay and finish your plans. No need to pander to him. If he wants to act like a baby, I’ll show him a baby.”

“He is recovering, Rajmata. It’s alright.”

“No way. I’ll take care of him. You enjoy your ride. It’s been ages since you went to the school. How is Moti doing there? Is he happy?”

“He gets young riders on his back, of course he is happy! He was born to be a training horse.”

“And you let him go,” she accused. “You loved him like a baby and you let him go.”

“He is happy here. And I get to come and see him whenever I can.”

“Make it a routine now. Your last polo match was three months ago. You don’t ride much in the palace anymore. Start going to the school every evening like Papa runs away to his club.”

Samarth smiled — “I wish.”

“What’s keeping you so busy? Actually, hang on… come back home and we will talk tonight. Don’t waste your evening there chitchatting with me.”

“Done,” Samarth glanced up at the horses storming past him with young boys on their backs. At different ages — from pre-teens to mid-20s. All eyes on him. He waved and they waved like a livewire had shot through them.

“Rawal!” One of them left the reigns and held up his folded hands.

“Is that a fangirl?”

“It’s a fanboy,” he clarified. “Barely 13.”

“Ok, ok, I am not Papa. Remember.”

“You can be worse than him when you want to be.”

“I am only the messenger.”

“Lies, Rajmata, lies.”

“You come home, then we’ll talk.”

“Bye,” he laughed.

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“Hi, baby,” he tickled under his chin. Sharan’s arm pushed out to whack him away. Samarth jumped back, laughing as he rounded the bed and settled on the other side. Papa was already lying back on his pillow, phone in hand, glasses on, scrolling like his life depended on those ‘Reels.’

“You told Mummy to give me mashed curd and rice?” Sharan got on his elbows, rolling his long body across the bed. Samarth grabbed his neck and shoved his face down into the pillow — “You lied to Mummy about having dinner with me?”

“I am recovering, Bhai! Don’t tattle…” he groaned into the bedding. Papa’s reel volume went up.

“Papa, volume!” They both called out in unison.

“Your volume as well,” Papa shot back.

“Where is Rajmata?” Samarth glanced around. The AC was on full blast, his father’s room was chilled, it was after 10 and their time to talk in his bed. His father’s reel volume though was only controlled by her.

“She went to get his milk.”

“In a bottle?” Samarth sputtered. Sharan tried to head-butt his lap but he held his skull back. At 18, he was full-grown and stronger than him. But right now he was recovering from an intense week of dengue and hence flopped down.

“If he does not start drinking his fluids and eating his food like a responsible adult then that’s my next course of action,” Rajmata walked in, a glass of yellow milk in her hand. Samarth gagged but kept his reaction to himself. He could have milk separately and haldi separately but not together. Listening to the croak from the bedding, he knew Sharan shared his sentiment.

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