Chapter 212

Chapter 295: The Flutter of a Fire

Declining the aid of HariPrakash who had offered to wash his shirt for him, the General ventured out to the back of the Castle where the water pump and the clothes' lines were established.

Hastily unbuttoning the shirt off him, his bare back glistening with sweat in the bright sunlight, he began scrubbing hard at the huge violet stain on his shirt, and dipped it numerous times in soapy water until the stain was adequately faded and untraceable.

Wringing the water out of the shirt, he draped it on the nearest clothes' line, and then returned to the water pump to wash off the stickiness on his chest.

He was greatly vexed. That could not be denied. Or he wouldn't have gone and washed his own shirt.

As he slapped cold water onto his heated chest, he thought back to everything that had happened for the past few months.

Every encounter betrayed everyone's faint regard of him as an alien to the family. Granted, they accepted him as Lady Anjali's husband but that was all. Had he ever received a look deserving of a son from any of elders? Lord Arnav and Lord Akash were lauded for they were sons of their blood. But he, a Jha, still felt himself an outsider.

Maybe it was a stupid idea: the marriage and the hope that he could have a family of his own.

Who did they think they were fooling? Not him.

Just then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a presence in the lawn, watching him.

Turning his head, he spotted Ram silently standing by the wall, interestedly observing the General's attempts to wash his shirt.

An amused light lit in the General's eyes. Here was an outsider like him, a neglected orphan who must rely on others' sympathies to subsist.

"Come hither, boy," the General signalled to him with his hand.

Hesitant at first, the boy timidly stepped away from under the shadow of the wall and towards the solemn figure on the lawn, who looked most terrifying without his shirt on.

Just as the boy neared the General, his little, eager eyes looked over the General's shoulder towards his shirt.

The General, wondering what had caught the boy's attention, turned to look at the clothes' line and found a butterfly dancing over the shirt that still smelled of wine mingled with soap.

A friendly smirk appeared on the General's face.

The boy could not see what the General was doing, his hugeness shifting and making the sun shine right into Ram's little eyes.

But when the General turned to the boy and leaned down to his height, the sun obscured by the nearness of the General's face to him, Ram's eyes crept to the General's upheld hand.

There on the General's forefinger, sat the butterfly, nonchalantly fanning its beautiful wings.

"You see that?" directed the General to the insect, "That's an Arhasian Firewing."

Ram had an enlightened look on his face, and he watched the butterfly with increased curiosity. The General explained, his forefinger pointing to its features, "Look how its wings have golden marks on it, like the spurt of fire crackling in a fireplace."

The boy nodded, animated by the finding.

The General lifted the boy's hand and, gently, transferred the intrepid butterfly onto the back of the boy's hand, where it stood proudly perched on his little knuckles, fanning its splendid firewings.

The General watched as the boy gazed in wonderment at the tender being.

A strange sadness set in his mind and he felt guilty for not having loved the boy as he deserved when he had the chance. But now it was too late.

Genuflecting on the ground with his one knee, the General addressed the boy, "Ram, you will take care of my wife and her child, would you not?"

Ram looked up from his rapture of the butterfly, and noticed that the General looked serious. The little boy nodded in reply.

"You're a smart lad, you know that?" the General placed his hand on the boy's head and playfully ruffled it.

Suddenly, taking him by surprise, the boy swept towards him and embraced him, his little hands around him and his little head cradled close to his heated neck.

The butterfly, in the suddenness of the movement, had flown upwards and perched itself on the General's shoulder.

The General was immobilized from action for a moment, but gradually, he found the courage to lift one of his hands and pat the boy consolingly on his back.

And then, the boy withdrew, smiled at the General, and turning on his heels, ran back into the Castle.

The General let out a solicitous sigh. He had never felt this way ever in his life. What was this thing? This warmth he felt in him when the innocent boy had hugged him.

Shrugging to himself, he arose on his feet and his eyes fell on the shirt.

The memory of the wineglass tipping returned to his mind and he frowned.

The beast in him trembled with a rage of betrayal, sensing which the butterfly on his shoulder lifted off and flitted away.

He closed his eyes, and the vision of his cure filled his mind.

He tried to calm himself with her thoughts and contemplated on his strategy.

He was intending to re-join the Army, and after earning enough... I'll come back, steal my cure and vanish with her to a place no one can find us. Living alone with me for long years, with me treating her kindly, will slowly turn her mind to accept and love me. And then I will not have to tolerate the torment of the dragon anymore.

An evil grin crept on his face. Everything is set. I only have to wait for things to happen according to plan.