Page 43 of A King's Oath

“Ever?” He cocked an eyebrow. Of course there would be nobody else. It was a no-brainer for him, even at this age.

“No, after five years it’s allowed,” she flicked her ponytail back from her shoulder. Samarth grabbed her and turned until she was lying beneath him — “Nobody. Ever.”

“Uh-huh?” She wriggled her head. He pushed his palm between her head and the freezing grass.

“Uh huh,” he asserted. “You are my girlfriend now, and you are going to become more and more as time passes. Nobody ever again. Not in five years, not in fifty.”

“Think carefully. You won’t get strawberry and cherry lip balms.”

He smirked — “Peppermint is good enough.” And closed the gap between their mouths.

————————————————————

“Hey, I just landed, running to the private airfield now,” Samarth informed into his phone as he dashed down the commercial tarmac. The officers on duty saw him, recognised him, and immediately let him walk into the airport.

“How are you going?” Ava garbled. “Nobody knows you came, right?”

“I’ll take a rickshaw…” he nodded at everybody who stopped to greet him — Police officials, airport officials, citizens who recognised him. He slipped his phone between his ear and shoulder, folding his hands as they folded theirs.

“Like a common citizen? Are you not famous there or what?” She taunted. “Huh… all big talk here, Kunwar Samarth Singh Solanki.”

“I get by,” he smiled, bending down to touch the feet of Santram Kaka, one of the oldest rickshaw drivers he knew who delivered fresh produce to the palace every single day. He had already called him to the airport. The man had abandoned his rickshaw outside the main entry and come inside to pick him up.

“Ok, Ava, I got it. I’ll call you later?”

“Sure, bae.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He ended the call and smiled at Santram Kaka — “Kem chho, Kaka[6]?”

“Ame toh majama chhe, Kunwar, pan tame Papa jeva banta jao chho[7],” he grabbed both his shoulders and patted. Samarth couldn’t hold the proud smile that took over his entire face. To be compared to his father, even if physically, was the greatest achievement of his life.

“Lamba bi thayi gaya chho!” He shook Samarth’s arm. “Papa jeva patla na reta.[8]”

Samarth laughed. “Ek mahino mahal maa jhamis toh fuleene fadko thayi jais![9]”

“Maara lavela shaak khaso toh nayi thao… have halo, Rawal nikdi gaya chhe.[10]”

Samarth hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and walked. He had to reach the private airstrip before his father’s plane departed for Ushuaia, the southernmost town of South America, from where he would take a ship to Antarctica. Samarth detested Geography, but the route his father’s ship would take was stamped on his mind.

His father had been a daring, dashing man in his younger days. He wasn’t old now. But Samarth had always been aware of the life his father had slowly given up to be his full-time parent. He did travel the globe for work after Samarth had gone to boarding, but he never went on such risky expeditions again after his mother left.

This time too, he had decided to reject it even before considering it. Luckily, Harsh had brought news to him and Samarth had gone rogue. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had tried every trick in the book to convince his father’s right-hand man and Harsh’s father — Ajatshatru Kaka to mail Rawal’s acceptance letter to the Ministry of Environment. He got a good earful when his father discovered it. But eventually Samarth managed to convince him to go.

It wasn’t really as risky now. And for once, Samarth wanted his father to restart his life as he should have. The joy of doing something you love was a primal right every human should have possessed. Why would his Papa, the Rawal of Nawanagar, the man who could command everything, be deprived of it?

“Rickshaw andar nayi jaaye huh, Kunwar,[11]” Santram Kaka stopped the vehicle just outside the gates of the private airport of Nawanagar.

“Toh hun bhaagu, Kaka! Thank you![12]” Samarth left his bag there and made a dash for the gate. Lucky for him, all the officers on duty knew him. Either that, or he really did look so much like his father now that there remained no doubt about his parentage.

“Hello. I am Samarth Sinh Solanki. Can you please tell me where is Rawal’s flight parked?” He asked at the concierge.

The lady glanced at him, opening her mouth to tell him off. Then stopped. She peered at him — “Kunwar?”

Samarth smiled — “Can you please tell me where is Rawal’s flight parked? I am not cleared to enter the tarmac but I just wanted to go say bye.”

“Oh, of course, of course. Come with me, please,” she rounded her desk, setting her already set saree in place, ushering one arm out. “This way please. It is ready to take off.”

---