Warrior Hearts

Blind Faith

"There you are, Princess." Malhotra says, making his way towards me.

"You're out of your chambers," I say, pursing my lips. "Again!" Lord, why does this man always break the rules that I set? I swear to the heavens above that doing so is the only motive he has in life. Truth be told, I am on the verge of chaining him to his bedpost, so as to prevent him from wandering around the palace.

"I swear that if you keep me cooped in there for a second longer, I will end up losing my sanity, Princess." Malhotra tells me, as he stations himself in front of me. Unbudging, I fold my arms in front of my chest, and stare at my friend blankly. "Oh for God's sake, I'll go back if you accompany me. It's boring without you." By now, Malhotra reminds me of a whining child, who I've been put in charge of. Smiling, I shake my head in disbelief at his immaturity.

"What do you want?" I ask, conceding.

"That's my girl," Malhotra exclaims, grinning triumphantly. "Please take me to the library." Library? Why in the world does he wish to visit that book haven of mine? "Your staff told me that no one's allowed there without your permission, or company."

"Absolutely," I agree. "I had made that rule because I keep some confidential papers in there, and I don't like people meddling with my work." In fact, it has been years since anyone other than me has stepped foot into the library. Even when the place needs to be cleaned, I do so myself.

"I just want to find a good book to read." Malhotra clarifies, raising his palms to face me. "Rest assured, you have my word that I won't mess with your papers."

"Wait a second." I say, holding up my index finger. "Malhotra, I thought you didn't read." For a second, my friend's face falls. Is he feeling alright? Over the course of these days, I have come to realise that regardless of what Malhotra is suffering through, he won't let the world know. Had he not been a king, I'd most certainly suggest that he join the theatre. Indeed that is his true calling.

"I-I do," Malhotra stutters. "Who...Who said I don't?"

"You," I state matter-of-factly. "The other night on the balcony, remember?" Lord, this man truly does suffer from a memory loss syndrome.

"Oh right," Malhotra agrees, combing his fingers through his hair. I watch as he does so in confusion. Over time, I had come to realise that my friend did so whenever he's nervous, or so I thought. Lord, I wonder if I'll ever be able to truly figure him out.

"You see, Princess, that was our first date." Malhotra explains, his eyes coming in contact with everything and everyone, except me.

"I beg to differ," I interject at once, firmly.

"A date in my books, a friendly get together in yours." My friend says dismissively, my words falling on deaf ears yet again. By now, however, I have learnt to somewhat cope with this behaviour of his. Well, at least enough that I'm not on the verge of murdering Malhotra every other second.

"As I was saying," Malhotra continues, "How in the hell could I have revealed this boring trait of mine to you that day? Instead of laying an impression, I'd have ended up axing my own foot. Princess, I wanted you to think of me as Gaston - oozing with manliness - and not someone who hides his face behind a pile of books, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose." Self-consciously, Malhotra tugs at the corners of his coat. "A lot of people don't know this, but novels fascinate me."

"I see," I murmur, not entirely buying Malhotra's words. Something's not quite right. However, I cannot seem to place my finger on it.

"Please, Princess," Malhotra begs, tilting his head to the side. "Look into my eyes and witness the yearning for a good novel. Please," he begs, pressing his palms together, as if to plead with me.