IV "I Warn You..."

Princess Inayat strode to the center of the arena, her hand grasping the hilt of her sword with confident precision.

As Samarth approached her, their eyes locked in a piercing gaze. Inayat's eyes burned with fierce determination, while Samarth's gleamed with amusement, testing her patience and provoking her competitive spirit.

As they faced each other, Samarth's grip on his sword tightened, mirroring Inayat's poised stance.

With a courteous bow, he began to initiate the match, but Inayat swiftly countered by positioning the tip of her sword beneath his chin, forestalling his gesture.

"Shall we dispense with formalities, sir?" Inayat asked, her voice steady and refined, with a hint of challenge.

Samarth's eyes sparkled with delight as he smiled. "As you wish, Your Highness. Let us begin."

"I desire to witness the prowess you've honed on the battlefield, sir," Inayat said, her eyes ablaze with intensity beneath the radiant sunlight. The golden hue of her irises seemed to ignite, like embers fanned into flames.

Samarth accepted the challenge with alacrity, his lips curling into an intriguing smile.

For an instant, the blade of Inayat's sword mirrored the sharp angle of his jawline before he straightened, rising to his full stature.

"As you wish, Princess," Samarth replied, his voice low and laced with a hint of playful menace. "I've been known to inspire... heartfelt pleas for clemency from my adversaries."

Inayat's response was a subtle, enigmatic smile. "We shall see, sir," she said, before launching a sudden, powerful strike that caught Samarth off guard.

The force behind her blow masked her slender, elegant frame, leaving Samarth to wonder: beneath her refined, innocent demeanor, what depths of strength and cunning lay hidden?

Samarth swiftly regained his footing, parrying Inayat's relentless assault. Her initial barrage of blows drove him back, until he found himself cornered. Impressed by her skill and ferocity, Samarth wondered if his earlier teasing had unleashed this torrent of frustration, or if there were deeper concerns driving her.

As their swords clashed, Inayat defended herself with ease, counterattacking with precision. She pressed her blade against Samarth's, their swords intersecting as she leaned in, her face inches from his. Their eyes locked, and Samarth felt a jolt as he gazed into the fiery orange flecks within Inayat's honey eyes.

As their gazes met, Inayat found herself captivated by the beauty of Samarth's eyes. Their meadow-green depths, flecked with warm orange, seemed to hold a hidden allure. She felt a fleeting sense of speechlessness, a rare and unsettling sensation.

A soft, enigmatic smile played on her lips as she spoke, her words laced with a subtle cruelty: "Tell me, sir, where is the vaunted boasting? Did I merely imagine your claim to fame – that you reduce your foes to begging for mercy on the battlefield?"

Her teasing words had the desired effect, drawing a smirk from Samarth. With a swift motion, he countered her attack, pushing her back before launching a powerful strike of his own.

Inayat countered Samarth's attack with fluid precision, her movements a testament to her skill and training.

She dodged and weaved, evading his swift and razor-sharp strikes with an air of effortless ease until it became too intense to be handled. He was not giving her any chance even to think for anything but escape.

The surrounding soldiers watched the match with rapt attention, their faces aglow with excitement.

Raj, however, looked on with a hint of concern etched on his face. He felt that Samarth's aggressive tactics bordered on cruelty, unsuitable for a princess. Yet, he refrained from intervening, trusting Samarth's expertise.

One of the soldiers whispered, "Perhaps we should intervene? Samarth might harm Princess Inayat."

Raj rebuked him sternly, "Do you think Samarth is inexperienced? He knows exactly what he's doing." With that, Raj returned his focus to the match, his eyes locked on the whirling blades.

Samarth's blade sliced through the air with reckless abandon, the clash of steel on steel, the rush of wind, and the gasps of the combatants filling the air.

Inayat parried each blow with precision, but Samarth's relentless assault finally found its mark. His sword blade whispered past her waist, severing a swath of blue fabric from the edge of her shoulder scarf, which drifted to the ground like a fallen petal.

The men surrounding them stood aghast, their faces frozen in shock. Inayat's gaze flashed downward, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the ruined fabric. Her gaze snapped back to Samarth, and with a fierce look, she unleashed a powerful, unexpected stroke. The blade bit deep into Samarth's arm, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their faces set with concern. The match had escalated into a fierce and intense battle, with neither combatant yielding an inch.

Samarth's eyes narrowed, but instead of pain, a sly smile spread across his lips. He locked gazes with Inayat, his meadow-green eyes glinting with amusement.

"I took you as my enemy, as you requested, Princess," he teased, his voice low and smooth. "Was that not your desire?" With a swift motion, he struck, pushing Inayat back.

Inayat's rage consumed her, clouding her judgment. She saw only Samarth's taunting eyes, his infuriating smile. "How diligent you are in following my commands, dear soldier," she spat, evading his blow and launching a counterattack. Samarth dodged with ease, his smirk deepening.

"Anything for you, Princess," he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. With a final, swift motion, he pinned Inayat against the tilting yard's corner wall, the blade of his sword pressed against her delicate neck.

Inayat's eyes widened in alarm as Samarth's sword pressed against her neck, its edge glinting mere inches from her skin.

The soldiers tensed, their faces etched with concern, but none dared intervene. Disrupting Samarth's focus could prove disastrous.

As the moments ticked by, Inayat realized she was still alive, and a wave of relief washed over her. She drew a deep, steadying breath, her lungs filling with air that mingled with Samarth's own exhalation. Their hearts pounded in tandem, their ragged breaths caressing each other's faces.

Inayat's eyes flashed with anger as Samarth's sword pressed against her neck. The warm sunlight danced across the blade, casting a golden glow on the surrounding soldiers. They stood frozen, their faces etched with concern.

"You appear somewhat pallid, Princess," Samarth observed, his voice low and smooth. His meadow-green eyes sparkled with amusement, the orange specks within glinting like embers.

Inayat's gaze locked onto his, her honey-colored eyes blazing with fury. "Your eyes perceive illusions, sir," she retorted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The air was heavy with tension as Samarth's smirk deepened. "Do you imply that fear has no hold on you?" He leaned in, his breath caressing Inayat's ear. Inayat's chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. Her skin prickled with awareness as Samarth's blade grazed her shoulder. "Or are you too enthralled by your own hubris, Princess?" he whispered, his voice husky.

As he pulled back, the blade slid across her shoulder, leaving a faint scratch. Inayat's eyes never left Samarth's face, her gaze burning with a fierce intensity.

Inayat's voice was laced with warning as Samarth leaned in, his face inches from hers. "Choose your words wisely, sir, before speaking to me."

Their lips almost touched, the proximity sending a shiver down her spine. The cool shade of the dome enveloped them, shielding their intimate moment from the surrounding soldiers.

Samarth's eyes, fringed with heavy eyelids, locked onto Inayat's, his gaze drinking in her nervousness. A low hum rumbled in his throat as their lips brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through Inayat's body. Her hands trembled, her fingers splayed across his chest as if to push him away, yet hesitant to break the contact.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, concern creeping into her voice. "Move," she stammered again, her hands pressing against his chest, but her voice betraying timidity.

A smirk still played on Samarth's lips as he stepped back, his sword dangling casually in his hand. Inayat stood before him, her composure slightly disheveled.

"Your majesty's wishes are my utmost priority," Samarth said, his tone laced with subtle amusement.

Inayat's eyes flashed with indignation. "Your audacity is matched only by your impertinence, sir. I warn you, do not trifle with me, or else, it'll be your head on a platter before me."

Samarth's response was a low, husky chuckle. "I merely follow your lead, Princess. You set the tone for our encounter."

Just as he was about to continue, Raj's thunderous voice boomed across the yard, "Samarth!" The soldier's head snapped towards Raj, and he strode towards the center of the yard, his sword still at the ready.

Inayat followed, her eyes flashing with anger. She paused to retrieve her sword from the ground, where it had fallen during Samarth's relentless assault. With her sword back in hand, she trailed behind Samarth, her gaze fixed on his back.