Page 278 of A King's Oath

“And she knows stories as well,” Samarth added. “All the stories I tell you came from her.”

“The Krishna and that gopi with her chunari on her forehead too?”

“That too.”

“You want more stories?”

Brahmi nodded.

“It’s Diwali time now. You want to make rangoli with me while I tell you?”

“With what?”

“Flowers?”

“Yess!”

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Evening had fallen and Avantika had doffed out of her travel kurta set, wrapping a saree around herself after years. The blouse had come freshly stitched for her within hours. A flimsy dusky pink one with tiny puffed sleeves, matching the waves of the lighter pink leheriya in her deep fuchsia saree. If she didn’t know how busy Samarth was running, she’d have guessed he had a hand in this particular colour choice. Simply because the wardrobe presented to her had all the sarees in degrees and shades of pink. Some plain ones, some with creams or cyans or yellows. Some leheriya, some chiffon, some netted chanderi, some bandhni. One particular deep pink saree had been a local patola — solid pink silk with rich orange motifs. She had saved it for a special occasion.

“You look beautiful, Kumari,” Hira ben entered her bedroom with a tray of fruits.

“Thank you, Hira ben. Where is Brahmi?”

“Separating petals for our rangoli?”

“Are my parents here? They landed twenty minutes ago.”

“Rawal will come to you as soon as they are here. Bade Rawal and Rajmata will receive them.”

Avantika turned to the mirror — “Can you pin this?”

Hira ben set the tray down and accepted the safety pin, weaving it expertly through the fabric at her shoulder so that it stayed in place.

“Gulabi suits you really well.”

“I had nothing but gulabi to choose from,” Avantika chuckled, pushing her hair to the side and running a brush through it. “Did Samarth put you to it?”

“Rajmata ordered everything.”

Her brush paused midway.

“Oh…”

“Ava?” Samarth’s holler sounded.

“Tell him to be quiet. If Brahmi hears him she won’t let up.”

Hira ben ran out of the room. Whispers and grunts were heard from the hall. And then, just as she was reaching for her eyeliner, Samarth appeared in the mirror behind her. His face was awed, his eyes running down her body, then back up.

“Raje.”

“I am very tensed and very nervous,” she pushed closer to the mirror and created a perfectly practised wing over her eyelid. “Not now.” She finished with her other eyelid, screwed the vial shut and gasped as he spun her in a circle and into his arms.

“Samarth!”

His mouth fused with hers.

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