Chapter 195

Chapter 278: The Worries of the Cursed

One night, before he was to make his way to the bed chamber, Lord Arnav was informed by the butler that his grandmother had asked for him.

Making his way to Lady Deviyani's room, he let himself in on receipt of permission to enter.

Sitting quietly in the armchair, he eyed the dim room, the candles melting away with brighter light and the white bed on which his grandmother sat up in her night robe, her back leaning against the headboard and her eyes fixed upon his intent face.

He let his gaze wander towards where Fortune sat perched on the footboard of the bed, his head nuzzled close to his feathery chest as though in happy slumber, though his beak twitched frequently giving one a suspicion of his being awake and eavesdropping.

Finally, unnerved by the impatient silence, Lord Arnav turned to his grandmother, "You called for me, Nani."

It was not a question, but a statement, insisting that she get to the matter without further dillydally of time.

Lady Deviyani leaned back more comfortably into the downy pillows propped behind her. "Last day, when the Guptas had been with us at tea, you left in a haste, removing yourself from the happy company of family and guests," she said, watching Lord Arnav shift in annoyance, "Curious to say, I noticed that it was at the mention of the future possibility of your wife bearing your child."

Aggravated, Lord Arnav shot up, "I wish to not talk of such things in this late hour. Goodnight, Nani."

He turned to the door but before he could make a step towards it, his Nani recommended in a calm voice, "She will not come under harm."

Lord Arnav stared at the door, his back to the woman who had sensed the cause of his dismay.

Slowly, he turned around to her again, her aged face kind and understanding.

"How can you be certain?" he asked diffidently.

"She is your woman," said Nani, "And though you don't believe in it, there is no denying Destiny has her hand in uniting you. Trust the powers and your love for each other. Be assured of it, she will come to no harm." The repetition of her avowal seemed to evoke something in the nightly air.

Lord Arnav said nothing, only frowned thoughtfully at the rug beside the bed. Fortune mumbled something in his sleep.

"You may leave now, son," his Nani genially dismissed him.

Lord Arnav nodded goodnight and then departed from the room, his mind the battlefield of resilient doubts and this newfound hope. The wise words of his watchful grandmother had incited hope to rear itself stronger but, nonetheless, qualms crept, refusing to be dispelled, unaware that it was to be exterminated soon, by something fortuitous he would chance to see.

A floor below, the General was restless and incapable of sleep.

Why had his wife let the baby lie betwixt them, knowing well he despised its proximity to his person? Every time he stirred in the moonlit darkness, his indisposed gaze would fall upon the face of the child that slept with its head turned to him. He was almost certain her shadowed eyelids were open, watching him with accusing eyes...

Unable to endure it any longer, he got up from the bed, slipped into his night robe and walked out of the bed chamber.

Ambling lazily across the living room, he found his steps ritually heading for the deserted ballroom.

The vacant space was enormously ominous. The tall windows held back the cold outside winds but, flitting through their panes, the eerie light of the moon appeared to be prone to more hassle by the forbidding clouds.

Crouching on the lowest step of the platform, he pressed his palms to his forehead with his elbows propped on either knee, and vaguely attended to the sounds of the detached night.

Just then faint footsteps were heard to approach him, familiar paces that made him groan in frustration.

His wife stood before him, her graceful fragrance overpowering his senses. For a long minute they spoke nothing.

"I thought you had ventured here to play," she said, nodding in the direction of the piano.

"I had no intentions to," he replied curtly.

Overlooking the tone in his voice, she proceeded to sit beside him on the steps of the platform.

His hands were still pressed his forehead, obscuring her vision of his tormented features.

He wished she had left him alone. Why could she never leave me ALONE!

She lay a hand on his thigh, her fingers grazing the rough fabric of his night pants, and felt him flinch at her mere contact.

But that didn't dissuade her hand.

He waited for the imminent question he knew was pressing on her mind. He had done his best to avoid her so far down the week but he knew she had caught him cornered at last.

"Why," she began, her hand still on his thigh, "Why did you have a hostile encounter with Chotey?"

"It was nothing significant," mumbled the General, drawing his hands down and placing them on his knees.

His wife's hand on his thigh seemed to weigh upon him, like Justice's eye on a guilty frame.

"Insignificance cannot be the reason if it led you two to transform and beheld your beings for Kushiji's ignorant eye."

The General gritted his teeth but tried to sound composed, "We were unhurt. Or is that not what you are concerned about?" His tone was not far from rebuke.

"Of course, it worried me!" claimed Lady Anjali hotly, "But I cannot, for the simple sake of sanity, understand why you were angry at each other!"

"We are men-" the General began.

Lady Anjali scowled, "And must all men fight? What damned sort of logic is that to justify the duel of brothers-in-law?"

"I can give no other explanation," said the General, and began to arise, his wife's hand slipping off his leg.

"You must afford me the reason," she commanded, rising to her feet, "I am your wife, and I must know."

"You are his brother too," said the General icily, "You could very well ask him."

"My husband's word matters more to me than my brother's," she asserted, and then she speculated to him, "Did you do something that annoyed him? Or was it his action or word that wronged you?"

"The episode is so bygone I can't even remember the cause of it," said the General vaguely, moving towards the nearest tall window.

His wife followed after him, "You are certain he didn't hurt you in any way or you him?"

"Who, Master Menace?!" asked the General, trying to sound jovial, "We were quite unharmed, as you have seen yourself these past few days."

"I still cannot be certain until I hear it," said Lady Anjali, her anxious gaze upon her husband's handsome face, "You have been so withdrawn from me ever since..." She hesitated, unable to remember the last time he had been the caring, persistently-present man she had married.

Something about his hushed aura grieved her and she looked up at him, standing before the cold window, his eyes distracted in the distance.

His hair fell over his forehead and the sad glint in his dark eyes made him more alluring in the moonlight. She couldn't remember the last time they had displayed affection for each other.

Saddened by what they had become and his resolute attempts to keep her at bay from his hidden hurts, she leaned closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head inclined against the back of his shoulder and her breasts pressed to his back, "Tell me, my love, tell me what worries you?"

To be precise, he wasn't certain why. But the warmth in her voice and the way her arms embraced him to her, conciliated his tempest momentously.

His voice mellowed and his eyes closed, he confessed, "Do you remember I told you I had found my cure." Her head nodded against his shoulder and he continued, "I fear I have lost it."