Chapter 242

Chapter 323: Disgruntled Husband

The afternoon sun was bearing down on them and the General had resorted to bring their communal migration to a pause.

The equestrian nomad rested underneath the shade of a tree, while the General and Lady Anjali sat under a clump of trees.

Donning the hood of her fanciful robe over her head to shield herself from the powerful sunlight, Lady Anjali leaned back against the stone she was perched near and observed her detached husband.

He had not expressed any hint of shock or surprise on hearing of her searching for her missing daughter. The fact that their child had been kidnapped could not have left him entirely unshaken. Granted, he didn't regard the child endearingly, but he was not even remotely astonished to hear of her kidnap. Lady Anjali had come to deduce that perhaps his lack of surprise was owing to the fact that he'd already been aware of the absconding. It could also be possible that it was in the same direction that they were headed and hence his acceptance of being her escort.

But for whom would he be going there? For his daughter or for...

"Where are you headed?" she asked, wanting to sound clueless about his intentions she'd supposed so far.

He provided her a reply with another question, "What does it matter to you?"

"How could it not matter to me?" Lady Anjali opined cuttingly, "We may have gone our separate ways, but there is no denying we are still husband and wife."

The General shot her a look from under his hat, "Till death do us part?"

"Till death do us part," repeated his wife emphatically.

He chuckled in slight annoyance. "Maybe we ought to kill one of us, in that case," he joked rhetorically and then turned on his side, his back to her, and slid his hat over his face.

Lady Anjali frowned at his back, "You take everything so maladroitly!"

He gave no sign of having heard her and pretended to have drifted to sleep.

Frustrated, she pursed her lips and then, after a hesitant moment, asked, "Are you going to where they are?"

Once again, there was no response from his side.

Lightning, feeling sympathetic, looked from the wife to the husband and shook the mane on her head.

Lady Anjali bit her lower lip, reluctant to ask her next query but unable to stop herself, "Is...Is Kushiji your cure?"

Underneath his concealing hat, the General's eyes shot open but from his wife's vantage, he hadn't budged.

There was an almost pleading note in her voice, "It would hurt me but I would understand if-"

All at once, he shot up from the ground, angrily thrust his hat onto his head and sauntered off.

He inspected the trees that surrounded them, feeling their rough bark in furious urgency and then, with his wife watching anxiously from her perch on the rock, he broke a sturdy twig and, clutching it, strolled back to the spot where he'd been resting before.

Slumping down on the ground, he leaned his back against the nearest tree from where he could watch his wife and his mare from the corner of his eye.

Taking out a penknife from the scabbard in his boot, he began carving the wood by its length.

Lady Anjali's heart sank, seeing him frantically shape and smoothen the wood... to make her a bow so that he could get rid of her.

She sat silently, watching him work, afraid to speak. The remaining few minutes she would have with him, she wanted to cherish.

It still fascinated her, the way the strands of hair over his forehead danced in the frenzy of his rapt working, and how he pursed those hard, determined lips when he was focused on getting something done, how sometimes he would brush the back of his hand across the stubble above his upper lip...

A minute or two later, the madness that had driven him to carve the bow faded, and he kept his penknife and the halfdone wood aside to lean back and watch his mare graze the few tufts of grass that was to be found in that hapless wilderness.

Momentarily, he noticed from the corner of his eye, his wife take something out of her little knapsack. It was the clay bottle of water she'd brought with her on her voyage.

She took a sip from it and then held it out for him to drink.

He shook his head and, with his thumb, casually indicated to Lightning's saddle, implying that he had his own stock of water to drink from and wished not to share in hers.

Without a word, Lady Anjali returned her clay bottle to her knapsack and sat looking out into the open emptiness of lands that waited for them to cross.

Grief clenched at her motherly heart. How much longer, my darling, before I find you...