(Book 5) Hayden Mackay and The Pride of Haima-Endira

21.2 Hola, Milady Casanova

The portcullis grated open.

Ashwant had gone for an hour and returned with permission on behalf of me to enter. He seemed quite agitated. I didn't ask why. I was busy gazing at the castle. He beckoned me inside when I stood to observe the intricate gateway with my mouth open. Tons of merpeople chiseled in a series. It seemed to be depicting a story. If Pruthvi were here, he would have figured it out already.

The entrance was fashioned to look antique with mermen guarding the gates dressed in scaly blue armors and breeches. One of them shifted the shaft from one hand to the other watching us warily when we walked inside. His shoulders shook as he suddenly laughed. I grimaced, confused, also rubbed my hand over my cheeks to check if there was something on it.

"See what you did!" Ashwant said, his voice not more than a rasping whisper. "Two men together entering the Matsyasvi castle without a woman accompanying is really frowned upon. A couple does not come here unless it's for the blessing. This is Paramarashtra. It has been considered illegal since the ages. Even for non-humans."

It took me a second to get a grasp on what he meant. And when it did, I once again conceived a strong distaste for the country that had taken me a while to overcome. "You people are so ridiculous. I don't even know whether to laugh or feel pity for you. No offense."

We walked over the silvery linoleum flooring of the hallway leading to the great living room. The humongous crystalized chandeliers hung down from the center of the ceiling, candles lit doing its job to lighten the hall. It was one empty hall, no antiqued furniture, just the pillars similar to the ones in Sharad's palace. Right in front of us was the large and broad staircase, decorated with red carpet and the railing with lilac flowers. Where it led to, I couldn't care less. I ran my eyes to have a glimpse of anyone, a servant or a maid, but the castle seemed totally desolate. This castle was built only for the Lady to live alone, and of course with her fantasies.

"Someone should have sent her a message," Ashwant said, "We should wait here."

"Right."

"As soon as she comes, just follow as I do."

"Got it."

"Milady," he said, "That's how you'll greet and call her every time you talk."

"I got a better idea. How about- Hola, Milady Casanova!?"

"Shut it!"

I sniggered.

In the meantime, I rehearsed the conversation in my mind- to what to say and what not to. It was the first step on the road to acquire the Pride. I tried to withstand the pressure mounting in my veins. This could be my only chance, and if I messed up, an awful lot of people would get mad. One of the reasons to bring Ashwant with me was to deal with Lady Matsyasvi if anything went wrong. I wished her to go easy on us.

The sudden sound of footsteps on the staircase interrupted my train of thoughts. Both of us glanced at each other and stood alert. And when a woman slowly descended down the stairs, my heart raced with excitement and anticipation.

The sound of the anklets echoed from wall to wall. The woman, supposedly aged not more than thirty, was in a lightweight velvety see green colored saree with a white border, embellished with beads and sparkling gold threads. Her veil was a full-length cape sweeping the stairs behind her. The famous long hair of hers, thick and strong, dark and glossy, side-swept and hung down almost to her knee. She was brushing, with that famous brush, a resource for her clan to gain the blessing. She was brushing as if the hair was the most important ornament of all the gold she was adorned. Massive gold earrings, long and numerous necklaces, matching glazed bangles. This and that and...what the heck is that around her waist? The way she walked down the stairs, with such elegance and grace, it reminded me of a ramp-walk model. She was as slender as Nazira and as short and petite as Celina. Picture perfect, I thought. She did look like a painting of a Goddess come to life.