Warrior Hearts

Doomed

"What's the catch?" Folding my arms across my chest, I pivot on my heels to face Malhotra. Now that I've said my fair share of words, and the men of our army have dispersed, I am able to pin the entirety of my scrutiny on him. Narrowing my eyes, I scan Malhotra's face for the hidden motives that I'm sure are lurking behind his facade of innocence, like a camouflaged chameleon.

"Other than boosting our men's confidence?" Malhotra asks, arching his eyebrows. "Nothing." Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, the man in front of me mirrors my stance by wrapping his arms in front of his chest. A low growl erupts from the depths of my throat as Malhotra's brown orbs blink down at me. Lord, even the angels above and the children on this land will fail to match the level of innocence that is oozing from him. My lips part as realisation dawns on me. Nodding my head to myself, I wag my index finger in Malhotra's direction.

"You want a scapegoat!" I exclaim, my eyes widening at the thought. Why in the world do I have such a sluggish mind? "You're using me," I accuse, jabbing my finger into Malhotra's breastplate. "You claimed that I'm in charge so that if the situation goes awry, I'll be the perfect target for the entirety of the blame to be laid upon." Disgusted, I shake my head in amazement at the conniving nature of Malhotra's sick mind.

"You've got quite the imagination, don't you, Princess?" He questions, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"Imagination breeds fiction, and this is the reality of your twisted mind's workings," I snap. Malhotra continues to watch me, a flicker of amusement dancing in his orbs. Sometimes I really do believe that this man fails to comprehend my words. Releasing a huff, I swivel around and begin to head away from Malhotra. Although I am unaware of where I'm going, all I know is that I need to get away from the infuriating man behind me.

"Princess!" Malhotra calls, the soles of his boots padding against the ground as he attempts to catch up to me. "I was thinking if you'd like to..." However, before he can voice the entirety of his thoughts, the sky's growl has him halting mid-sentence. Grimacing, I look up; my actions mirrored by Malhotra. Without any further warning, a fat droplet lands on my cheek. Flinching, I shut my eyes as the clouds burst forth with all their might. Within seconds, the once clear ground is now enveloped in the downpour; the blurring streaks of rainwater forming a cage around us.

"No," I whisper to myself. Every muscle in my body grows taut, my eyes scanning the length of the field. What was once an idealistic location for a battle has now turned into a slippery ground - littered with forming puddles - the ideal setting for accidents to occur more often than not.

Our men won't stand a chance against the opposition under these weather conditions, I conclude. Moistening my lips, I watch as a group of three men make their way past us; the soles of their boots wedging themselves into the wet soil. With each passing second, my heart quickens its pace. It seems to be thumping against the inside of my chest like an accelerated ticking clock; reminding me that the time for battle is drawing near, whether I like it or not.

"Christ!" One of the men hisses, as his right foot gives out from underneath him. Unable to maintain his balance, he hurtles towards the ground - face first. However, at the last second, I watch as he grabs ahold of his friend's sleeve in a successful attempt to stay upright. These men may have each other's support right now, but what about during the battle when they will only have themselves to rely upon? After all, under those given circumstances, it is nearly impossible to keep an eye out for each other, much less cover ourselves from all sides.

"Lord," I mumble, turning my head back up towards the sky. However, instead of being met with the full fledged force of the rain pellets, my nose brushes against someone's skin; a palm that's hovering in the air right above my head. Furrowing my brows, I trail my gaze along the length of the arm that this makeshift shelter belongs to, all the way from the man's wrist till his shoulder. Malhotra is watching me, his gaze glossed over, almost as if he's in a land of his dreams. His right arm is outstretched in my direction, still as a statue. Once again, I glance up at Malhotra's palm which is resting mere inches above my head. Is he shielding me from the rain?

"You make me want to be selfish, Princess." Malhotra murmurs, his voice barely audible over the charging downpour. Furrowing my brows together, I stare into his eyes, his gaze fixated on mine.

"Malhotra," I hiss, waving my palm in front of his eyes. At once, the man in front of me blinks, his neck jerking back. "This is not the time for you to zone out on me!" I yell, hoping that by doing so my words will register in his foggy mind. "We are in a dire situation right now." Frantically, I circle my index finger between our bodies. "Our men are not equipped, or trained to fight in this weather." Blinking, Malhotra glances around us like a man who's just awakened from his sleep.

"Our balance is compromised, Malhotra." I continue, eyes wide with alarm. As if to prove my point, I rub the sole of my right foot against the soil underneath it. Sure enough, my foot fails to find traction and it slips as easily as an ice cube on a slick surface. "We're all going to slip and that will compromise our ability to fight at the time of battle. As if that's not enough, our visibility is lower than ever before." Shaking my head to myself, I bite down on my lower lip.

"We're not going to make it, Malhotra." I announce, allowing the words to hover in the air between us. It seems that the dome of grey clouds above us did not just bring forth rain with them, but they're also carrying our definite doom in their bellies.