Trishalini ~ The Jewel of Mahabaleshgarh

71 ~ The Birth of a King

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Trishalini POV

His words burdened my chest and I nodded, slowly.

"I will not," my voice came out slowly and, I noticed him standing up from the couch. His physique had always put me in my place, but not more than now.

"I am sorry," he muttered and I shook my head.

"You do not have to," I said and held his hand to make him walk towards the mirror.

"People are waiting for us," I tried to say, and he nodded slightly.

I gulped and walked around to grab his White, embroidered Kurta to wear. He looked at me carrying it through the mirror, beside him. I let it fall and held the shoulder. His chest was heaving up and down, revealing how bad it was for him.

He slid his arm into Kurta's arm and I walked to the other side so that he could do that with the other.

"I will never make my child do anything against his or her wish," he breathed and I could not help but smile a little.

He was thinking of a child.

Standing before him, I pulled the edges and noticed him smoothening his arms. I lowered my gaze to the strings of his kurta. The inner ones first.

As I began to tie them, I noticed his hand wrapping around my waist's back side. I felt his hand pushing the braid to the front and others on the thick golden waistband, I was wearing.

He opened it and I immediately looked up at him.

I blinked nervously and silently with questioning eyes.

He just stared at my face before lowering his gaze down to my back, through the mirror.

I looked behind me at it for a moment too and noticed him hooking the waistband again.

My heart was ready to come out of my chest a moment ago.

"What did you do?" I managed to ask and felt him slipping his finger inside my waistband and trailing it around my waist.

I felt tickled.

"It seemed tight," he muttered in a low voice and I lowered my gaze, blinking silently and almost finished with his Kurta.

I quickly made the last knot before his finger could reach my navel and stepped back from him.

My heartbeats were racing wild.

My father always said that nothing could be more unpredictable than a young and newly adult lion in pain.

And, I had just witnessed him going through a lot of pain.

"Should I call someone to dress you up?" I asked, and he looked at me.

"No," he replied, "When they are not here to witness the death of the Prince, they do not deserve to see the birth of a King," he muttered and looked away to grab his overcoat.

I immediately lowered my gaze.

He slipped his arms into his overcoat and smoothed his edges all by himself.

I stepped forward to hold it strings and seeing him showing no offence, I moved ahead to tie them neatly.

"I know you are hurt," I tried to say and he shook his head.

"I am not," he muttered.

He leaned forward, slightly over me to reach the dressing table and grabbed the rings.