Page 279 of A King's Oath

“Brahmi is outside!” She tried to protest but he just pushed his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss, leaning over her to get the angle right. She had to lean back and his arm came to support her back. Her neck arched, and his mouth left hers to stamp there.

“You’ll spread my lipstick to my neck!” She pushed at his chest. He kissed her chin and helped her up.

“Is it on me?” He showed her his lips. It wasn’t. She was wearing a smudge-proof stain. She still smacked her palm on his mouth.

“Accruing new debts when you haven’t paid the old ones. Gutsy, Raje.”

She smirked — “Says the man who is scared of losing his virtue before marriage.”

“I have a daughter right outside to prove my virtue is all but gone, taken by a very feisty princess of Gwalior.”

Her eyes widened — “Are my parents here?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say it then! Fuck, Samarth!” She turned to check her appearance in the mirror when his arm banded around her stomach and pulled her back into his chest — “You do not need to be nervous. I am their perpetrator, I am yours and Brahmi’s perpetrator. I will take whatever comes.”

“Still…”

“You are not to be nervous, Ava,” he commanded. “Do you agree or you need me to kiss you again?”

“I agree, Rawal!” She turned in his arms and pushed him around — “Now let’s go. And don’t make noise.”

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Her father was removed from royal life for close to a decade, but Kunwar Ajay Rao Scindia could still command a room when he was in it. That was her first thought as she walked into a silver-accented sitting area of the main palace, Samarth beside her. This was the same hall where Hukum had once seated her, pregnant and scared and wandering the alleys of this palace like a thief.

Avantika snapped out of that thought and concentrated on her parents. They sat on a long sofa — her father in his grey state bandhgala that he nowadays rarely wore and her mother in a golden chanderi saree — Vishwa Bai Raje again.

In that moment Avantika regretted what her decisions had done to her parents. They had lost this life that had been the only one they had ever known.

She set foot inside the room and saw the other two occupants — Samarth’s father and his stepmother, occupying matching armchairs in front of her parents.

“…know that it is unorthodox but here we are.” Samarth’s father completed just as their footsteps drew the attention to them.

“Jai Dwarkadhish,” Samarth’s voice boomed in the silence that gripped the room. Avantika saw his folded hands in her peripheral vision and remembered her manners. She folded hers too. Her mother stood to her feet, as did her father, followed by Samarth’s parents. Her father didn’t look angry and that was exactly what his angry was. Her mother though was enraged, more so now as her eyes fell on Samarth.

“Mummy, Papa,” she made her way to them, hoping to break the tension. “Did you reach the palace just now?”

“Fifteen minutes ago,” her father clipped.

“Samarth,” his father commanded. Avantika did not understand that one-word command but Samarth was by her side, his hands still folded in front of her parents.

“I have no words, no face to begin to apologise to you for what I did. Ava was my all or nothing since school, and I let that go without even speaking to her. I had my compulsions, but they are not my excuse…”

“We are not here to listen to your list of apologies, Rawal,” her father’s words were short. “In my humble opinion you must recite them to yourself every day of your life and if there is any conscience left even after that, then repeat again.”

“Done.”

Avantika gaped at him, just as her father’s hardened eyes stuttered.

“Samarth, Ava, sit down,” Bade Rawal directed. The tension in the room seemed to ease if not completely diffuse.

They all sat around, silence descending again.

“Kunwar saheb,” Bade Rawal broke the stalemate. “As I was telling you before the kids walked in — this is unorthodox. But I have learned from life that what’s orthodox for many is not always your version of happiness. We should be grateful that this came out sooner rather than later. Brahmi deserves to have her father, her family. She spent seven, almost eight years without them and that’s a regret that will hound all of us all our lives. Moreover, your daughter spent the toughest years of her life alone and for that,” he folded his hands — “I ask for your forgiveness. My son has some sins to his name. I am not justifying them. But I can guarantee that he will not go forward in life henceforth without Ava and Brahmi happy at every step of the way.”

“I understand your position, Bade Rawal,” her father nodded. “But I have never pushed my opinions or my decisions on my children. This decision will also be my daughter’s.”

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