Page 112 of A King's Oath

She kicked the notch of his knee and he stumbled, caught off guard. He slowed. And just when she thought she had gotten a good one in, he nudged her sideways with his hip. She wasn’t strong enough nowadays to counter that beast of a polo body. But she didn’t have to. His arm circled her in time to pull her back.

“I didn’t expect this, ok!” She remarked, hoping her voice didn’t sound too crazily happy. Her insides were jumping up and down.

“What did you expect?” He slowed down and moved towards the edge of the quay, setting the basket down.

“Some cafe or a restaurant. You wanted to take me out for a meal to make up for that day…”

“I am not taking you out to dinner to make up for something,” he frowned, on his haunches, pulling out a blanket. It wasn’t red and white but a deep brown with frayed edges. More aesthetic and less… cliche.

He spread it out and set the basket on top of it to keep it from flying. Then pushed out of his shoes.

“Come,” he held out one hand. She took it, got rid of her ballet flats one by one, and slowly lowered herself on the blanket beside him. She had chosen a dress today and she hoped it behaved, with the way the wind was misbehaving. She tucked the ends under her folded knees and set her iPad and bag down.

“Ok,” she sighed. “What have you got?”

“Do you want to take a guess?”

Avantika leaned into the open basket to steal a whiff but he snapped it shut.

“Such a cheater even now!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s research.”

His brows waggled.

“Hmm… it’s dinner time but a picnic so… croissant… no. Croissant sandwiches, a Charcuterie board maybe… umm, what’s that French pizza thingie?”

“Pissaladière?”

“Yeah, that?”

“Go on.”

Her mouth watered. “Umm… pasta? Like a pasta salad? And for dessert — something with chocolate? And wine? If you are not practising tomorrow…”

“I am not practising tomorrow,” he informed. “I wasn’t practising today either. It was a physio and recuperating day.”

Samarth reached one broad hand to the basket and opened the flap, then reached inside to pull out a styrofoam box, thenanother, then another, then a round basket covered with foil, followed by a glass bottle that didn’t look like it held wine.

“Wrong,” he said opening one of the styrofoam boxes to piping hot moong dal bhajia. Her mouth dropped open.

“Wrong,” he said, opening the next container to a big bed of poha. Her mouth snapped shut or the saliva would pool out and that would be very un-princess-like.

“Wrong,” he laughed, opening the third and the biggest container that was packed with sev. Lots of sev.

Aaaah!Her mouth opened wide in a silent giddy shriek.

“And wrong,” he finished his magic show with the final basket that looked messy but wonderful with crispy orange jalebis. Avantika couldn’t help it. She grabbed one and bit half of it clean. It was hot. It had been long days since she had eaten home food. And while she had lived without Indian or home food in her university days, lately she had begun to value the taste of the everyday.

“Where’s rabdi?” She polished off the rest of her jalebi and licked her finger clean.

“Jalebi is supposed to be eaten with fafda. In this case, sev will have to make do.”

“I converted you to sev on poha, how did I not convert you to rabdi on jalebi.”

“Let some of me remain in me, Ava!” He grabbed the bottle and untwisted the cap, so casually mentioning something that went and settled deep inside her. Avantika kept staring at him as he shook the bottle lightly, then took a sip. Satisfied with the taste, he passed it to her, looking so innocent after declaring something so monumental.

“What is this?”

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