The Prince's Indentured Bride

being twins

Motion sickness: nausea caused by motion, especially by travelling in a vehicle. That's what Google says, but why was it meaningless to me now.

I felt tipsy, dizzy and nauseous as Julian sped the car to the maximum speed he could attain on a highway. Reverse motion of food kept playing sickly in my bile and I felt like vomiting.

I shouldn't have gulped in that much of drinks. But all of these wasn't the issue on hand; Julian was bound to silence and he was pissed, firstly because I cancelled our dinner and then ignored his calls.

"Slow down. My head is spinning, Jules." I spoke softly trying to refresh my head with the night air through the window, I would've died if he forced to keep the AC on in the car.

"Yeah, it will keep spinning. You should have gone for one more bottle!" He grumbled as if he had never gotten drunk and made me pick him up from weird and scary locations for years.

And it wasn't like I asked him to chaperone me tonight. He walked into this mess, himself, with his own f*****g two legs.

"Will you shut up!" I said, trying to ease my temples as my eyes fell on the sifted papers in his storage holder.

They were all torn, I picked a few pieces and realized they were photos, not papers; his hands didn't tense nor did he give any reaction or comments on it, which kind of I expected to have.

"What's going on Jules?" I asked after shoving the pieces back into the mess.

"Let's talk in the kitchen." He replied and took a sharp turn, entering inside our Ashtrick Mansion; it's been days I've come here.

After parking it in front of the main door–which would get him scolded by Daddy dearest in the past–he opened the door for me and grabbed my hand, a bit too aggressively.

In furious click-clack of my shoes and his murderous banging of boots we reached the kitchen and he left my hand to check the fridge.

"I am not eating a lemon." I protested, knowing he was up to that only.

"We are out of lemons." That's amazing, I thought and laughed. Shouldn't have done that!

"But we do have eggs." He smirked wildly, and already cracked one into a glass.

"No. I am not drinking– " I couldn't complete my sentence when he pinched my nose close with his right hand, and then tilted the glass in my mouth; half chugging it down and half spilling it all over my dress, his shoes and the floor, I ran to the wash basin if my stomach decides to empty it contents.

But it didn't. And the aftertaste of his disastrous juice was disgusting.

"Speak." My head was spinning again, but this time with madness and anger.

"Why didn't you inform me that your car got stolen today and Rashmi got abducted?" He asked, trying to be calm but his hands said otherwise as he mercilessly chopped a set of carrots into dice; even while angry he was being precise.

Damn Abhi. I cursed under my breath, now feeling too alive after the confrontation.

It's just that worrying too many people will do me no good besides only adding them in the potential lists of targets to the Spider.

"You too didn't tell me about Dad's paper company."

"What?" His hands stopped with the work.

"Don't act so surprised. I know that you knew about it. No, why don't you tell me why he uses it?" Used to use, it is still difficult to talk in past tense about father.

"That's unrelated to what we are talking about." My blood boiled; why was he changing topics, so did I, but I needed answers from him.

Frustrated, I pulled another Japan knife and started slicing some tomatoes in round and elliptical shapes; at least Tessa can make a salad out of these and store them.

Cutting vegetables is an elective alternative we've been taught to do from an early age because both of our tempers were hot, and when angry and it did too much damage to things around us; this was Grandmother's idea.

"An answer for an answer." I offered him out of desperation.

"Okay. You tell me first." He replied urgently, continuing another attempt of cucumber dice now.

"No. You." I threw it back to him. He sighed.

"Don't be stubborn." How dare he call me that?!

"You are being ridiculous here!" I shouted and threw a fist full of tomato slices on his white shirt; his eyes widened as red stains painted him.

"Do you even know that how much turmoil I am living in?" I continued my screeching in despair, as he threw back a length full of spinach.

He then poured the water from a nearby jar on me, drenching me and the fridge door with it. "You are dead meat!"

I opened the fridge and took out as may eggs which could fit in my palm and aimed straight for his head; on point, white and yellow proteins graced his head.

"S.T.O.P!" Both of us turned into ice statues when Mom shouted from the door; s**t, this is bad!

"Who started this?" She asked, the tone in her voice fiercer than ever. "Him." I pointed at my twin, "She." He did the same for me.

"She is drunk Mom." Julian revealed, he shouldn't have done that now. "He made me drink egg. Egg Mom. Egg." I complained.

"Eww." Husna chirped in and I didn't bother enquiring what was she even doing here, must be visiting Mom.

"Mom, she was being followed today!"

"He is hiding things from me, Mom!"

My Mom held a hand into her head and gave a look around the kitchen; which was beyond the point of no return now, with everything scattered around, and when did the beans jar fall down?

"Clean all of this." Mom ordered, ignoring all our complaints and left along with Husna, who gave us a pitiful look, "Babies, I can't help you with this. Have fun!"

"This is all on you." I clenched my teeth when he said that, he was also a part of all this.

I picked up the sugar jar and poured half of it on Julian's head, "Woohoo. You look like a candy."

"Destiny!" Mom shouted again, from the door, why was she on a hawk watch.

"Vhrea, how about making some Maggi. I am hungry." He asked.

"How about heating the burgers?"

He looked at me and smiled, anger dissipated long back and something cheerful emerging on his face. He laughed and pulled me down in the mix of water, honey, beans, egg saliva and wheat flour on the floor.

"I feel like crying." I said to him, although we didn't get to discuss any of the important topics, we were actually angry about. But it still felt peaceful, and messed up.

"It's okay to cry little sister." I hit his head with my stone ring.