Warrior Hearts

Fallen Soldier

Wringing my hands together, I pace across the length of the foyer. Truth be told, I've been doing so for almost an hour now, and I feel no different. Since news regarding Father and Malhotra's careless outing has reached me, all I'm left with is a bottomless pit in the center of my stomach; a gut instinct that is alerting me of danger.

"Something's wrong for sure," I mumble to myself. Never before have I been mislead by my intuition, but just this once I'm hoping against hope that it is indeed proven incorrect. Lord, being a woman who seeks control, feeling utterly helpless is most certainly driving me to the brink of insanity. Alongside restlessness, my legs are spurred on by anger as well. However, I'm unsure as to who this emotion is directed towards. Is Malhotra to blame for persuading my father into accompanying him? Or is Father to blame for being so careless? After all, the latter is most certainly not a two year old, who can be coerced into doing that which is against his will. To top it all off, both the men are unaware of the rebel forces which are lurking beyond these palace walls. Contrary to the rosy picture that I paint for Father on a daily basis, there is unrest brewing amongst the common man. After all, not every dominant male out there is willing to be ruled by a woman. Oh for crying out loud, where in the world are these two?

"His Highness has returned!" A guard shouts from his post on the balcony. A breath of relief escapes my lips at once, the man's words acting like an answer to my prayers. On cue, another guard comes rushing towards me, through the palace entrance, which is lying wide open in wait for Father's return.

"His Highness was attacked by the rebels." The guard announces, confirming my fears. On their own volition, my feet begin to carry me straight for the door. I swear to the heavens above that if Father so much as has a scratch on him, I will rip Malhotra into two without a moment's delay. Leaping off the steps, two at a time, I step onto the gravel and make my way towards the palace gates.

"Your Grace!" The staff calls out from behind me. However, their voices are drowned out by the erratic beating of my heart, which is the only sound that's echoing in my ears. All I can think of in this given moment is reaching my father. To the dungeons with all else!

As I begin to near the palace gates, Malhotra's frame comes into view. His hair is disheveled, as if he has been in a gruesome brawl. Taking in the entirety of his figure, I realize that this isn't the only telltale sign of the attack. Malhotra's right set of knuckles are split open, blood oozing out of his skin and onto the gravel below him, staining it crimson. The leather belt around his waist is slashed at several places, the end of it hanging loosely, unbuckled. Truth be told, Malhotra no longer looks like an esteemed king. On the contrary, he reminds me of a pauper, who's been attacked by a pack of wild dogs.

What I find the oddest of all, however, is the presence of a khaki shawl wrapped around Malhotra's upper half. This particular piece of clothing is completely out of character for him, and it is the only one which is devoid of the remnants of the fight. In fact, it looks brand new to me, almost as if he's purchased it on the way back.

"Princess." Malhotra begins, as I skid to a halt in front of him, disturbing the pebbles around us. Without wasting a second, my hand lashes out towards Malhotra, my right palm making contact with his cheek. Taken off guard, my enemy's head jerks to the left, as the sound of my slap resonates in the open ground around us.

"How dare you take my father out without first seeking my permission?" I ask, my chest heaving up and down with a mixture of clogged up tension and anger. Recovering from the assault, Malhotra glares at me, his eyes shooting sharp edged daggers straight into mine. Momentarily, I am taken aback by the fierce look in Malhotra's brown orbs, for he's never looked at me in this manner ever before. This isn't the look of the man I've become familiar with over the past few days.

"You," Malhotra says, stepping towards me. His voice is a deathly, low growl, which shoots a shiver down my spine. I would have much preferred for him to yell at me.

"Nandini." I look over Malhotra's shoulder to find Father coming towards us, with the help of his wooden stick and two guards, who are flanking him on either side of his body.

"Father," I let out the word with a sigh of relief. Hastily, knocking my shoulder against Malhotra's, I head towards my old man. "Please tell me that you're unharmed." Reaching Father, I give him a once over, searching his body for any signs of external injuries. However, there seem to be none.

"I'm fine, Nandu." Father says nonchalantly, treating my concern like it's worthless. "I'm assuming word of the attack has reached you." I nod my head, as Father continues to make his way towards the palace. Without a word, I fall into line beside him, the guards trailing just a step behind the two of us. Truth be told, Father is radiating, almost as if the attack hasn't occurred altogether.

"Oh, those rotten men didn't stand a chance in front of this fine, young man." Father says, as we reach Malhotra's side. Grinning like a proud parent, Father clamps his hand down onto Malhotra's shoulder, causing the latter to flinch ever so slightly. However, Father doesn't seem to notice this minor reaction of his. Has Malhotra banged up his shoulder as well? "You should've been there. Oh, Manik is the bravest fighter I've ever come across." Adamant on not meeting my gaze, Malhotra continues to stare away from me, and towards a spot on the ground.

"I must say," Father continues, completely oblivious to the crackling tension between Malhotra and I. "I'm quite tired. Nandu, dear, tend to our guest and his wounds, while I'll head over to my chambers."

"Let me take you," I say, as we resume our walk towards the palace entrance.

"Always trying to get your way," Father comments, as I guide him up the stairs and into the main hall. "Now that's it for you. Go back and help Manik clean up." He instructs me, as he pulls his arm out of my grasp and turns the corner, the guards still on either side of him. Tightening my fists at my side, I inhale a deep breath. Due to Father's orders, I can be civilized towards Malhotra, or at least send someone to treat his wounds.

"Malhotra," I call out, turning around to face him. "I - " However, I'm cut short by my own gasp. Right where we left him, Malhotra is dropping to his knees, like a statue of clay which is crumbling from its base.

"Oh Lord," I whisper, as I watch his eyes turn into glass beads. Time seems to have slowed down, as I watch the edges of the khaki shawl slip off his shoulders and land lifelessly on the gravel behind him. Without allowing me time to react, Malhotra collapses onto his side, like a lifeless puppet, whose strings have been sliced off.

"Manik!" I yell, the thud of his figure making contact with the ground snapping me back into the present moment. With inhuman speed, I begin to run towards him. Just moments back, time seemed to have slowed itself down, and now everything has been kicked into overdrive.

"Manik," I repeat his name, as I drop to my knees beside him. "Oh Lord," I whisper, my eyes landing on the ground behind him. It is no longer the color of dust. Instead, it has been transformed into a pool of crimson blood, the source of which is Malhotra's back. He's been slashed with a sword, right through the center of his back.