Page 54 of A King's Oath

“Forgetful. I thought it was a one-time, two-time thing. But it happened this time too,” Samarth felt despair bleeding into his tone.

“He didn’t recognise you?”

“He did… but after a few minutes. It was longer than last time.”

“Is he happy to see you?”

“Oh, don’t ask. Last night we shared two ice creams and one gola. He isveryhappy to see me!”

“In this winter?”

“Dada Sarkar does not catch a cold.”

“And you?”

“I might but who cares?”

Ava laughed.

“How are your parents? Your Papa back from his trip to Italy?”

“No, he is coming tomorrow. Mummy and I went for a salon sesh though! Spa, hair, nails… it was soooo good. Wait…”

A ping, and Samarth pulled his mobile off his ear to check. Ava’s chat was ripe with photos. Lots of photos. Fifteen, to be precise — one of her bright yellow nails, one of her matching painted toenails, one of the After Eight mint chocolates clutched in her palm at the spa, one of the candles, one of a bathrobe. And many more of the same things from different angles. All pretty. The prettiest of them all? The last one — a selfie, her face bare and glowing, those pimples shining extra red but looking less painful, her hair wrapped in some white towel.

Samarth’s chest tightened. He was busy in the palace, had so much to do, had so many people, was waiting for his Papa to arrive. And yet, just a picture of her hit him with a pang bigger than any. He wished he could teleport there.

He couldn’t.

So he did the next best thing. He held his phone in front of his face, angled it to get as much of his muddied whites as possible and snapped a photo.

Waiting for you to put my helmet on

He hit send.

“Ooooh my bae is hawt!” Came her screaming reply and he instantly pushed his phone back to his ear.

“Don’t call me that.”

“But look at you… all sweaty and dirty. See, Samarth, smelling your sweat while you are like this is yucky ewww but looking at you from afar is… wow.”

“Smelling my sweat is yucky ewww? Come to kiss me next time I win a match.”

“You come to kiss me too when I win one!” She accused.

“But I don’t find your sweat yucky eww,” he smirked.

“Ewww! Why are we talking about sweat?!”

“You started it.”

“Yeah, fine, so… when is your Papa coming back?”

“Any time now…”

Rawal is here— Harsh gestured from afar.

“He’ll live to be a hundred,” Samarth rattled off to her. “Papa is here. I have to go.”

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