The Mosquito and the Lion

eleven

"Such a shame that men have no honor these days," she taunted, wincing as the blade cut deeper into her neck. "Only a scoundrel would draw a sword on a bathing woman."

"And only a fool would fall prey to your manipulations twice. Answer the question, Alia." Malice dripped from his every word, but in that venom was an opportunity. He was embarrassed because he had fallen prey to her charms. That attraction could not have disappeared in mere hours.

Slowly, she turned around, her arms raised in surrender. "Don't move!" he yelled, but she ignored him, trusting that he wouldn't slay her. Her gamble paid off. Though the water came to her shoulders, she knew her body was on display. The creek was as clear as a cloudless sky, and her white undergarments, while modest, were closer to transparent than opaque beneath the water.

Alia had known it was Arjun, but seeing his face set her nerves on edge.

Even now, sword at her throat, she could not deny how beautiful he was, with his tanned face, strong nose, and dark curls. And her eyes were caught not on the blade piercing her skin, but his slender fingers wrapped around its handle.

Gods, you're pathetic.

Alia was surprised to see he had not averted his gaze. She had expected the flustered man from Purti to have some sense of shame or modesty. But Arjun had neither. Interesting. Well, two can play at that game.

She stared back at him, refusing to back down or hide away. With her shoulders rolled back, and her chin lifted high, she hoped she did not look intimidated. Though, she had to admit, the odds were not in her favor.

Finally, he sighed and, though his sword remained at her neck, he reached with his foot and grabbed hold of her salwar and blouse. Both stained with wet grass and dirt.

"Put this on," he said gruffly, tossing the clothes in her direction. She caught them in the air, careful not to get them wet.

"Can I get out of the water and put them on?" she snapped. Alia instantly regretted her outburst when he twisted the knife and cut deeper into her neck. She ground her teeth. "Please."

He hesitated before nodding tightly. "You too," he pointed to Nandini, who stood trembling in the creek.

Each step filled with trepidation and fear, Nandini approached the bank. Alia hoisted herself onto the earth, water dripping down her fingertips. She was certain she looked like a drowned rat, with her hair all tangled as it fell in a matted clump on her back.

As slowly as she could without raising suspicion, she pulled the clothes over her. Arjun had lowered his blade as she clothed herself, but his eyes followed her movements. She hoped he would attribute her growing flush to blood loss from her wound. And she hated herself for blushing over a man who wanted to kill her. But there was something in that gaze. Something primal and maybe even honest.

Pure loathing is what that is, Alia.

She pulled her blouse over her head, unable to bite back the groan that fled from her lips. That injury was going to be a problem if they ever made it out of this mess.

She went to help Nandini out of the creek. The girl was shaking — and not because of the cold. The noblewoman was so out of sorts that Alia had to help her get dressed, pulling her tunic over her head.

Arjun looked at them, trying to decipher who was the princess. His hand was steady as he levelled the sword at Alia's neck once again. He didn't even flinch at the blood dripping down her shoulder and staining her blouse.

"Who is the princess?" he repeated, cocking an eyebrow in frustration. "I suppose I could just kill the both of you, but I'd really rather not."

"I don't know what con artist has filled your little head with stories, but there is no princess here," Alia lied. "She's a myth."