Warrior Hearts

Personal Taste

"May I ask you something, Your Grace?" Celeste asks, as I unsheathe my dagger. "Of course, if it does not offend you," she adds hastily. Rolling my eyes, I look up to meet her timid gaze. 

"Of all the people in this kingdom, you should be the most bold in front of me." I reply, diverting my eyes back to the work at hand. "Go ahead."

"Why does His Highness always ask for the roses of this particular garden?" Celeste questions, curiousty evident in her tone. "This is not the only one in the palace, and yet he is always so specific about his orders. I remember that once Alfred snipped the roses from the outer lawns and set them up in His Highness' chambers. The king was furious when he found out about it. I promise you, Your Grace, I've never seen him quite so enraged before." Smiling, I gingerly trail my fingers over the petals of the roses that are being spoken about in such high regard. Us, Murthy's, and our temperaments. 

"This bush," I explain, "Was first planted by my late mother." Tactfully as always, I press the edge of my blade to the stems. Ironic, isn't it, how such delicate creations of nature are torn away from their bush with a ruthless weapon, like a dagger. It just goes to show that nature and man could never truly live in coexistence. After all, how could we? Mother Nature stems from a universe that is synonymous to kindness. Man, on the other hand, penned cruelty.

"I understand now," Celeste exclaims, realization dawning on her. "Is that who you got your love for gardening from? Your mother?" She further probes. Pursing my lips, I slice off a handful of roses.

"You could say that," I reply curtly, not wishing to elaborate on this topic any further.

"His Highness is not the sole admirer of these roses, though." My right hand goes on, completely oblivious to my disinterest in carrying forth this conversation. After all, the mere mention of my mother has the power to turn me into a sour grape within seconds. 

"What do you mean?" I ask, rising to my feet. Robotically, Celeste takes the bunch from my hand and places it in the basket she is carrying. By now, we both have mastered this routine.

"I heard from another that the King of Naiq complimented your roses yesterday." Celeste's words pique my interest.

"Did he now?" I ask, a small smile of amusement lingering at the corners of my lips. My lady-in-waiting nods her head eagerly.

"If only we could appease him by filling the vases in his chambers with these." She says, admiring the bunch that's in her basket. Of course not. This bush is specially reserved for my father, and him only. As I sheath my dagger, Malhotra's words echo in the corners of my head.

Why do you fight with a niqab? I still simply fail to understand as to why he'd care enough to ask me such a question. It is most certainly not a formal one. Turning around, I glance at the rose bush. Well, it is becoming quite crowded. Perhaps snipping off a few more will simply facilitate their growth.

"Celeste, wait," I call, as I make my way back towards the bush. "I'm going to cut off a few more, and you may go set them up in his chambers." Before she can stop herself, my lady-in-waiting lets out a gasp of surprise.

"S-Surely, Your Grace," she stutters.

"Don't let your foolish mind run wild with any ideas," I snap. "I am merely doing so because the bush is growing rather wild."

"Of course," Celeste agrees.

"Come with me to Father's chambers first. Set the roses up there, while I check up on his health, and then you may go to our guest's chambers." I instruct, as I hand over the next bunch to Celeste.

"Perhaps you should go to His Highness in a while," she suggests. "The King of Naiq is currently keeping him company." Frowning, I halt in my tracks.

"Pardon?" I say, although Celeste's words registered into my ears quite clearly. "Are you saying that our guest is with father? Why?" I question indignantly. How in the world was I kept in the dark regarding this visit? 

"I-I'm unaware," Celeste replies, fear clouding her vision.

"Goddammit," I hiss, as I hasten towards my father's room. Lord knows what Malhotra is spewing into my weakened father's ears.

*****

"Is he still in there?" I question, as I reach the threshold of my father's room. The guard, who's the poor victim of my death glare, nods his head timidly.

"Yes, Your Grace," he replies, eyes cast downwards.

"You're a goner," I murmur, reaching out for the door handle. However, before I can grab a hold of it, the wooden structure swings open inwards, and out steps the man himself – Manik Malhotra. He is taken aback, momentarily, as his eyes land on me.

"Lovely to make your acquaintance this early in the morning." Malhotra says, regaining his composure. Smiling, he tugs at the hem of his floor length coat, as if flaunting something in my face. What, however, I am unaware of.

"I wish I could say the same," I reply drily. "What was your business with my father?" I question, crossing my arms in front of my chest to adorn an intimidating demeanor. Concerned, I allow my gaze to flit towards Father's chambers. Upon seeing his trusted nurse in her designated position beside his bed, I allow myself to relax just a bit.

"Since we are getting to know each other better, day by day." Malhotra says, stepping towards me, as he allows the door to shut behind him. "Let me reveal another facet of my character to you." The toe of Malhotra's shoes comes in contact with mine. Although he's uncomfortably close, I refuse to step back, and shy away. Bending downwards, Malhotra allows his lips to ghost the skin of my ear.

"I don't kiss and tell, Sweetheart," he whispers. My fists tighten on either side of my body, as I can practically visualize the smirk on Malhotra's face at this given moment. Stepping back, he once again tugs at the hem of his coat, offering me a nod.

"I am not asking you regarding the details of a clandestine meeting with your lover." I say, as he begins to head past me. "I merely wish to know why you were in my father's chambers, and being his daughter, I believe that it is my right to do so." Amusement flickers in Malhotra's orbs, as he looks down at me, over his shoulder. 

"That jealous, huh?" My enemy comments, refusing to wipe off that obnoxious smirk from his intolerable face. "Well, Princess, if you are so interested in whatever your father and I discussed in there, then I suggest you ask him yourself. I'm sure he'd love to entertain you." I swear to the heavens above that this man steps on every last nerve that my body bears. Without another word, Malhotra heads past me. Lord, I feel like I've lost yet another battle to this man.

"Your Grace, would you like to give His Highness the flowers yourself?" Celeste asks, her voice echoing around the four corners of the hallway. The sound of Malhotra's footsteps halt, and I know he's heard her.

"Flowers?" He repeats from behind me. "I'm interested." If only I could smack the cocky attitude out of his system, I would do so more than willingly.

"Y-Your Grace, our Queen personally handpicked a bunch of roses for your chambers," Celeste spews, turning away from me to face Malhotra. Clearly, my palace staff are confused as to whose kingdom they reside in. 

"Personally," Malhotra echoes. "I do so love personal acts of affection." Clearing my throat, I turn around to face the one man who pushes me to the brink of violence each time he is in my presence.

"I did so for all the guests," I lie, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. "Do not deem yourself to be special." Observantly, Malhotra's eyes flick towards the basket Celeste's holding. My breath tightens, as I realize he's seen through my lie.

"Right," Malhotra says, drawing out the word, as he nods to himself. Damn Celeste! If it had not been for her unlatchable tongue, I wouldn't be making a fool of myself in these hallways, in front of a collection of prying eyes. "I guess I'm the only guest left here then." Without another word, I swivel on my heels and head into Father's chambers.

"Tell your princess that I loved the personal gesture," Malhotra's voice follows closely behind me. Refusing to turn around and face the cocky bastard, I slam the door shut. The guts on this man...