Page 313 of A King's Oath

“We created the most perfect purple-loving creature,” he croaked. “Befitting that you like pink and I like blue, huh?”

“Samarth!” She sobbed and her head went into the crook of his neck. He wrapped her inside himself — tight, warm, perfectly safe. She had never lived in a sense of insecurity physically in her life but now, here, with him wrapped so tight and the decisions of their future falling into place, she felt like a cloud of certainty had finally rained on her. She hiccupped in his arms, pulling his head down to steal a kiss. He raised her one and pushed his hand into her hair, turning her to straddle his lap.

“Oooh,” she gasped, landing down where she needed him the most. “We can’t.”

“Says who?”

“We’re getting married in three days.”

“This is practise then,” he pumped her up, making her head fall back.

“Mama!” Brahmi’s call sounded from inside.

“Shit!” She pushed to her feet. He followed suit. They panic-rushed inside, only to find their daughter in the middle of the bed, eyes closed, murmuring unintelligible things.

“…and two sticks…” she mumbled. “One jalebi and one fafda… Chloe is running…”

They burst into a quiet, relieved laugh. Her eyes popped open. Samarth went to dash but she called out to him.

“Papa?”

Avantika sputtered.

“Yes, baby,” he turned from the edge of the balcony, glaring at her as he padded to the bed and kissed Brahmi’s head. “Sleep. It’s night.”

“Why did you come?”

“To say goodnight to you.”

“Mmm…” she closed her eyes, her lips stretching into a smile. “Bonne nuit…”

“Jai Dwarkadish,” he murmured, on a mission to teach her the greetings of Nawanagar. “Jai Dwakadeesh.” She botched it up, then promptly went mumbling back to sleep. Avantika bit her lip to hold her laughter as Samarth got up to leave.

“Don’t laugh,” he warned. She bobbed her head.

“And make sure she doesn’t tell anybody I came.”

“Mmm hmmm…” she sputtered as he walked out to the balcony, jumped over the parapet and climbed back down to go back to his palace.

53. BadriNath

— SAMARTH —

He stood under the Chattra of Rawal, an umbrella dating back generations that was held open over a king’s head. At this late hour of the night, as Tulsi Vivah’s rituals wound up around the kingdom and Devi-Devta awakened from their half-yearly nap, he stood under his Chattra, eyes spread longingly down the path that Ava would be taking.

He had left his palace at 4 this evening, the procession long and pompous, winding through all of Nawanagar. He had set off on his horse, Moti, then switched to an elephant mid-way out of tradition, then got into a car until they had reached the ramparts of their summer palace. There, Moti had been waiting for him again. In all his Rawal glory, with jewels heavy on his chest and his head weighing a ton under the paagh and the kalanghi, Samarth had swung atop Moti. If he had it his way, he would have raced him up the ramparts and right to the door. But the procession of hundreds ahead and behind him had slowed his speed.

“She hasn’t run away, Bhai, don’t worry,” Sharan whispered in his ear.

“I’ll make you run away now. Be quiet.”

“They are seventeen minutes late,” his father muttered. “Something is wrong.”

Samarth’s heart somersaulted. He glanced at his father standing stoic beside him. The moon pierced bright from behind him, through the canopy of roses and lilies. His head exploded. What if something was wrong? What if Brahmi got a stomach ache? What if Ava realised this was too much? That life in Loire was easier…

‘Stop it, Sid,” Rajmata rebuked quietly through the soothing shehnai and the humdrum of guests. “Both of you, shut it. She is coming, Samarth. Don’t you dare think anything wrong…”

He began to blink his assent when murmurs made his eyes whirl. The soothing shehnai burst into the folk tune of their land, played at ceremonial events. And there she was, walking down the pink rose-carpeted path towards him, in a white ghaghra-choli that sparkled with tiny silver things all over. The tune intensified and a blur of purple jumped beside her. She was skipping, not aware of the status she would soon hold.

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