It was a swan.It was a fucking white swan!
“What the hell is this?” I roared as the valet hopped out of the driver’s seat with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Hukum yeh badak chalaayenge?” he asked.
“You just do as you’re told, kanjar,” snapped Hira Singh, before he took a deep breath and turned to me. “Don’t do it, Hukum. I’ll call Mirpur Palace and make your excuses. Please don’t show up to the party in this swan.”
That’s exactly what Nilanjana wanted, wasn’t it? She wanted me to miss the party. Well, she could go hang because I had a job to do, and I wasn’t letting Nilanjana’s games get in the way of that.
“Get out of the way, Hira Singh,” I said grimly, as I made for the swan.
He let out a loud gurgle of dismay, but stepped aside nonetheless.
The car was literally in the shape of a swan. I didn’t know how or why my great-grandfather commissioned this monstrosity. I had seen it lying at the back of the garage for years, but I always thought it was some kind of chariot. I had no idea there was a working engine in the heart of the swan. Bhai Sa’s restorer had done a good job because the engine was quite powerful and the car started smoothly.
I put it in gear and pulled out of the driveway with an angry screech of the tyres. I knew I was making a spectacle of myself by arriving in this vehicle, but it did play into the narrative I was creating, that I was urgently in need of money. If this didn’t get people to think I was poor, nothing would.
Still, I was fuming by the time I entered Mirpur because of the weird looks I got on the road. I was honked at and catcalledall the way, and I cursed my dead brother under my breath. Of all the cars he had to restore, why did it have to be this one? It was as if he were playing a giant, cosmic joke on me from the afterlife.
I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw Mirpur Palace looming up ahead. One more turn and I’d be there. I knew this road like the back of my hand. It was a blind turn, with another road leading into it a little ahead. You had to honk loudly as you took the turn because there was no way for anyone coming up that road to know if another vehicle was around the corner. But as I hit the horn, I realised it had suddenly stopped working.
Great! Just fucking great! All the way from Deorangir to Mirpur, this car had honked like an angry goose, provoking jeers and laughter from everyone I passed, but right now, when I needed it the most, its horn had given out.
I held my breath and took the turn, hoping nobody was coming up the other road. Just as I thought I had made it safely, there was a loud crunch, and something hit the beak of the swan hard, and sent me spinning to the right. I managed to hit the brakes before I plowed into a tree, and jumped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop.
Fuck it! It was as if my re-entry into society was jinxed!
I turned around the corner of the swan angrily, ready to rip the other driver a new one, but froze in my tracks when I saw the woman who leapt out of the black Range Rover to march over to me. She looked livid. But she also looked beautiful. God, was she even more beautiful now than she was eight years ago! Her fury and her beauty were like a punch to my gut.
Bathed in the bright headlights of both our cars, I stared at the treacherous face of my ex-girlfriend, Princess Meher Rathore.
CHAPTER 6
MEHER
For a minute, I thought I had fallen asleep at the wheel and was having some form of Kafka-esque nightmare where a giant swan plowed into my car. It took me a few moments to realise the swan was real. And that it wasn’t a bird, but a bird-shaped vehicle. And that its giant beak had crushed the front of my bonnet.
I leapt out of the car in a fury and made straight for the man who was coming around the corner, wishing I had an axe in the boot so I could chop the bloody swan’s head off. What the hell was I supposed to tell my insurance company? That my tank of a Range Rover had succumbed to a bird hit?
“What the fuck?” I screeched, but the rest of my tirade got stuck in my throat because of the man who was staring at me as if he had seen a ghost. My knees buckled in shock, and I leaned against the damaged bonnet of my car to steady them.
It had been eight years since I last saw him, and I had to admit he had changed a lot. But I’d recognise the bastardanywhere. His eyes blazed into mine, and my breath froze in my chest. Even now, even after all these years, my body wanted to run and throw itself into his arms. But I remembered what had happened the last time I tried to throw myself into his arms. He’d walked away from me coldly, I reminded myself.
I drew in a shaky breath and swallowed over a dry throat. I was suddenly parched. Hell, I had been parched for eight years. And here he was, looking like a tall glass of water.
No! I wasnotparched for him. I wanted nothing to do with Samrat Singh Deora. Not now. Not ever.
“Meher,” he said softly, and a long shudder shook me at the sound of my name on his lips.
I waited for it to pass and eyed him coldly. I drew my anger around me like a protective cloak and drew myself up.
“Maj. Deora,” I said pointedly. “What kind of asshole drives up the road from the NH-8 and turns the corner without honking? Or didn’t they teach you to drive in the special forces?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he shot back. “What kind of idiot drives up the road that meets a blind corner and doesn’t honk?”
“Don’t you call me an idiot,” I snarled. “Your swan broke the bonnet of my car! I hope the impact broke its scrawny neck.”
“Please! There’s nothing scrawny about my swan,” he replied, rolling his eyes in disdain.
