Warrior Hearts

Need

Narrowing my eyes until I'm sure they mirror the slitted eyes of a snake, I bore a hole into Malhotra's back. Once again he's uncharacteristically quiet. In fact I doubt I've so much as heard a sigh escape from his lips since we departed from our camp. Lord knows, however, as to why I am disconcerted at Malhotra's silent treatment. Maybe I truly have grown accustomed to his parrot-like nature? Knitting my brows together, I continue to glare at him. No, that's not it.

The truth is that Malhotra's moods are giving me a whiplash; one minute I'm in his arms, and the next, I'm being given the silent cold shoulder treatment. By now I'm positively certain that the man who embraced me on the battlefield was a completely different man; one who is the polar opposite of Malhotra. My shoulders freeze in place as my breath catches in my throat at the mere thought of the way Malhotra's arms wrapped themselves around me. With great effort, I expel a gust of air through my lips. Simultaneously, a river of heat prickles the surface of my back, as if Malhotra's arms are still resting against me, evoking a sensation that only his touch has the power to.

Clearing my throat, I arch my back as subtly as I can in an attempt to rid myself of the ghost of Malhotra's lingering touch. Like a pickpocket in the streets of a local market, who's about to snag his desired object, I glance over each of my shoulders. The blank faces of the soldiers behind me are a clear indication that they have failed to notice my movements, and neither have they the slightest hint regarding the thoughts that are tormenting me. Satisfied, I settle back into place on my ride, returning my gaze to Malhotra's behind. Lord knows why, for a moment, I feared that the soldiers were able to read me like an open book, lying on its back for them to view.

The embrace that Malhotra and I shared has been labelled as a moment of intimacy in my mind; one which I don't wish for the world to be aware of, or even share with them. It's our intimate moment. I moisten my lips as my gaze trails itself along the length of Malhotra's right arm. He's wearing a loose off-white shirt. The hem of the cloth flutters every time the wind graces us with its presence, a corner of the material lifting up to flash his skin. Can this man not tuck his shirt in?

As my eyes reach the end of his arm, I find them lingering at his wrist, refusing to budge. Who would've thought a few brief seconds of him splaying his palms across my back would engrave their imprints against my skin, like a branded iron's long lasting mark? Drawing my lower lip between my teeth, I stare down at my white knuckles that are knotting the reins in my fists.

I've not been embraced by people many times in my life, but I am still aware that the way Malhotra's arms wound around my upper half was not a mundane hug that's shared between two people. In that moment he held onto me as if it was the last time he'd get to do so. The tips of his fingers had seared against the material on my back like Malhotra had just returned from warming them against the sun itself. His hardened muscles had tightened themselves around my frame, reminding me of a child's attempt to box sand in his fist. I was stretched straight against Malhotra's front and I can wager any given amount of money that had I looked down it would've been nearly impossible for me to differentiate between where the contours of his body ended and mine began.

Although I may have never experienced such an embrace ever before, I have witnessed such a sight. Many times over, actually. Every single time that my army and I used to depart for war, I'd be graced with these intimate moments. I would stand to one side and watch as the soldiers and their wives said their goodbyes, not knowing whether this would be the last time they'd be having a conversation or not. Once they were done saying their goodbyes, I'd stare - unashamed - as the wives would mesh their bodies against that of their husbands. Their embrace would be interlaced with an unspoken promise, one that carried emotions which could only be portrayed through actions. When they'd hug each other, these couples would be sharing a lingering promise; the wife silently telling her husband that she'd wait for him, pray for him and he'd return the promise without uttering a word, assuring her that he'd do everything in his power to return to her safely, and as soon as he can.

Couples do share far more physically intimate moments behind closed doors, but in my eyes such an embrace outweighs it all. For me, those hugs are the epitome of it all. Returning my gaze back to Malhotra, I mentally chide myself for thinking in such a foolish manner. There's no way in the world that the man in front of me bears the capability to portray emotions of such magnitude, or so much as experience them within himself.

Malhotra was merely happy to be alive. We both were. And considering how we cannot openly indulge in such emotions with our soldiers, we had to turn to each other. A moment of weakness, and relief, that's all it was. Nothing more. I shouldn't burn the gears of my mind into insanity, musing over such a trivial matter.

*****

"Princess?"

"Hmm?" Raising my eyebrows, I glance back at Malhotra, a surge of annoyance passing through me. All I want is for my aching feet to make their way into my chambers, so that I can wholly concede myself to the warmth of my bed. It's been a tiresome handful of days, and today's journey just seems to have been the cherry on the cake, which is why I can only picture my bed and the way it's calling to me, luring me like a siren.

"I need to talk to you," Malhotra says. Frowning, I blink a few times, so as to clear the fog of exhaustion from in front of my eyes.

"Whatever you wish to say, it can wait until tomorrow," I reply dismissively. My words are slurring together, the wine of fatigue sloshing around in my blood. Without allowing myself a second longer to gauge Malhotra's reaction to my words, I turn back around and continue on my journey up the stairs; a journey that now feels more prolonged than ever before.

"No, Princess." Malhotra's tone is interlaced with urgency, and the slightest hint of irritation, as if he's conversing with a child who fails to comprehend his words. "I need to talk to you now." I'm unsure as to why I've halted yet again, but looking down I find my right foot hovering in midair, instead of guiding me towards my desired destination. "Please."

Malhotra is not a man of manners, and so I'm well aware that when he does exercise them the situation must not be treated lightly. Also, regardless of my current state of mind, I cannot ignore the sense of urgency that I gathered from his tone. This time, I allow myself to fully turn around to face the man behind me. Malhotra is positioned at the bottom of the stairs. He's staring up at me with a silent plea in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I demand, my feet carrying me down towards him on their own volition. The desperation in Malhotra's eyes is an emotion which I cannot simply ignore. The mere sight of it has all the sleep draining out of my body and seeping away into the marble underneath my feet. "Is everything alright?" I am now standing two steps above Malhotra.

"I need to talk to you," he repeats, completely bypassing my queries. Knitting his brows together, Malhotra nods his head over his shoulder. Wordlessly, he turns around, his feet carrying him away from me. Although I wish to protest, I recall the urgency in his tone and the desperation I witnessed in his eyes. Truth be told, I can think of no plausible reason for Malhotra's sudden need to converse with me. Nonetheless, silently, I allow my feet to follow him.

Perhaps Malhotra wishes to discuss whatever it is that's on his mind in a private setting, without the fear of intrusive ears. Glancing around, I aim to seek some reassurance from my surroundings for the arrow that I've shot in the dark. However, this thought is quickly snubbed out instead. There's not a single rustling leaf around us, much less a curious ear. Grimacing, I urge the gears of my mind to come to life. Alas, I'm rendered useless for the night. Releasing a sigh of resignation, I continue to follow Malhotra like a mindless puppet. I'm unsure what he has to say to me, but my intuition is telling me it won't be something that I should treat lightly.