Page 247 of A King's Oath

“Are you sure?” She glanced from him to Brahmi who was still trying to find his ticklish spot.

“Yes. Go,” he smiled, pushing his hands behind his head. She stepped back and closed the door. Tired, Brahmi finally gave up and her head fell in the crook of his shoulder. He eyed her giggly face go soft, happy, her breaths go slow. And Samarth wrapped his arms around her, patting her back. Two taps then one. Stroking it. Two taps, then one.

“Gopika geet charitay vanshidhari…” she sang along to the house’s background score in small bursts. He sang along quietly, patting her to the beats of the tune. Two taps, then one.

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The table was laid with a spread, the kitchen cleaned after the mess Brahmi and him had unleashed unboxing the breakfast he had ordered. They sat on the table waiting, chins on their hands, eyes on Ava’s bedroom door.

“Does she always talk so much?” Samarth asked his daughter.

“A lot,” she widened her eyes, nodding solemnly. He snorted.

“You must get really fed up, no?”

“Don’t ask.”

“You don’t talk much though.”

She shook her head. Samarth reached down and pecked the top of her head.

“You know what? It’s almost 10. You want to start eating? I’ll wait for Mama.”

She picked up a piece of white dhokla and bit into it — “This tastes like idli.”

“It’s made from idli flour. I guess…”

“And it’s your favouritest.”

“How do you know?”

“You told me on our picnic, remember?”

Samarth was amazed.

“Yes,” he opened his mouth and she fed him the rest of her dhokla. “It’s my favouritest. You know what else is my favouritest?”

“What?”

“A little,” he pushed his face closer to her, “cute,” he went in bursts, “non-talkative, horse-rider,” he growled in her neck, making her laugh and wrap her arms around his head. He kissed her cheek and pulled back.

“I love you for coming back, Sam.”

His face softened. She had alternated between Sam and Papa ever since last night, as if confused, still leaving the old momentum. He loved it.

“I am sorry for not coming back sooner.”

Her chin rested on her palm again — “What were you doing in South America?”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms on the table and laid his chin on them, bringing himself below her eye level. “I was playing polo in South America and many other continents. I was tending to the horses. I opened a polo school in Nawanagar. I was working with my father.”

“You have a father?” Her eyes widened.

Samarth’s voice softened. If only she knew…

“Yes,” he cleared his throat. “I have a father and a mother, and a younger brother.”

“Are they like you?”

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