Page 138 of A King's Oath

Avantika found her knuckles tracing his eyebrow, her hand turning to let the pads of her fingers ghost over his cheekbone. It was so surreal, to rediscover a man so intimately, like you knew the bone structure beneath his skin but not his skin. The pores were larger, the jaw rough, the skin itself feeling a little softer and thinner than before.

“You said about your kids wanting to usurp Sharan’s throne… or something like that.”

He nodded.

“That means you have thought about kids?”

“Not in the literal sense. But that’s one of the reasons I swore off settling down. When we met again here, in Paris… I saw how your goals were different. I no more felt like I would be doing an injustice to you by not giving you that palace, that extended family, that heritage. I did not feel like I was cheating you out of something you did not crave in the first place. Tell me, do you crave it?”

“No.”

“Truth?”

“Complete truth.”

“You were always a bubbly, extrovert girl.”

“So?”

“So I always saw you as the life of a palace, any palace. The princess, then the queen. You were born to light up palaces and people’s faces, Ava. How could I do this to you?”

“Shhh…” she stapled his lips between her fingers. He chuckled. “Decision has been made. You know my answer now. And I can be bubbly and extrovert anywhere. Give me people, I am happy.”

He shook his head, grabbing her hand from his mouth and pressing a kiss to the centre of her palm. “You are also an introvert at heart.”

“No!”

“You are. Or explain why you have colleagues, new friends and everything in Paris and yet spend more time at your apartment than outdoors?”

She fell silent. Was he right? He was. She had spent more time texting him from home in the last few months than she had exploring the nightlife of Paris. And itwasa happening nightlife on a daily basis.

“I am ambivert?” She frowned, trying to chew over that thought. “Or maybe I am on a spectrum. More phases of extrovert than introvert? I am extro-ambivert?”

“Whatever you are, you are mine,” he pulled her body into his, letting her head relax on the bulge of his bicep. “Light up our home one day, wherever it is.”

“And your pretty face,” she kissed his bicep. Samarth laughed, pushing her around until she lay on her side, her pillow betweenher legs and his leg over hers. His mouth pressed into the back of her head.

“Go to sleep now.”

“Not so sleepy anymore.”

“Count sheep.”

“I’d rather count the debt of kisses I owe you,” she sputtered. And for the first time Avantika discovered that she could laugh to sleep. As could he.

25. Under The Tuscan Sun

Holidaying was so much fun. Holidaying under the last of the summer sun in Tuscany was even more fun. Holidaying with a boyfriend that she had never thought she’d ever have was even, even more fun. Avantika had woken up to Samarth’s mouth on her cheek at the crack of dawn, then promptly fallen asleep with his “I’ll be back by 2.” When she had opened her eyes next, the time of breakfast had given way to the time for brunch. But again, who cared on a holiday?

So she had showered, spent extra time selecting her clothes — the new strapless cream satin number that she had bought yesterday. It tied up at her back and left everything bare with a capital B until it again hugged her hips and flared to her thighs. She had also bought a three-strand pearl choker because how could she not buy jewellery in Italy? She fastened it around her neck now, feeling not even a little extra. She was a princess after all. Being wooed by a prince. As normal as they wanted to make their lives, she would make him work for it like a self-respecting princess must.

Avantika finished off her ensemble with a silk scarf that she used to loosely tie her hair at the nape of her neck, Italian style. It was roses and holly, more of the holly, and added that extra oomph to her solo sightseeing day.

She didn’t get much sightseeing though. Because she spent an extra hour getting ready, then another half hour enjoying a coffee with pastry that was less breakfast and more dessert at a local hole-in-the-wall cafe. That brought her to the Piazza Grande at the peak of noon, when the cathedral bell was tolling and birds were singing. This time she chose to walk around and soak in the sights instead of shopping. Yesterday she had been so giddy with joy and a little… excited to get new clothes for him that she had skipped all the gorgeousness.

Like the cathedral and all the frescoes painting its walls and dome. Like the Medici architecture. Like the statues of Ferdinando I de' Medici that reminded her of Oscar Wilde’s The Happy Prince — the one who had given away all his gold leaves and precious jewels to bring opulence to a town. Like the Romanesque fountain in the centre of the square. She stopped there. Nobody was throwing coins into it like Trevi Fountain but she spied a few lying at the base of the shallow trench of water. Avantika reached inside her purse to pluck one and leaned over the fountain to confirm if those tiny, shiny objects were indeed coins. She leaned in some more, until one foot left the ground.

“Aaaah!” She lost her balance and crouched to hold onto the stone embankment when an arm came around her stomach. It pulled her back.

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