The Masked Princess Bound To The King She Hates

That night didn't bring any rest. Just silence.

Queen Ella reclined on the side of the bed, completely still, but her mind was busy with thoughts. The burden of the day was heavy upon her breast--the marriage, the feast, the never-ending questions, and the manner in which King Augustine had looked at her, as though he knew it all.

The king, lying next to her, had at last fallen asleep. She observed it slowly. Initially, it was merely the stillness. Then she heard the regular rhythm of his breathing, restrained and nearly too perfect to be that of a man at rest.

Queen Ella glanced over her shoulder, lest she should wake him. She observed him. Even in sleep, there was nothing casual about him. His face was determined, his pose stiff, so that even when asleep he could not relax his vigilance. Even in his dreams, a dangerous man.

With a little sigh she turned her back. She should have slept easily after such a long day but it eluded her. Whenever she shut her eyes, the memories came back to her-flames, screams, the palace falling round her, the voice of her father, firm and authoritative, telling her to live.

Her hands were clasped together. Survive. And that was what she had done. And that was what she was doing still. However, this night was different. It was the first night since then that she was not sure who her real enemy was.

Queen Ella closed her eyes. Minutes went by--it might have been minutes, or more. Sleep touched her, and slipped away again. She awoke her eyes. The room appeared the same, but the candles had been lowered, and their light was less strong and cast long shadows on the walls.

She moved a little, taking care not to disturb him, but even then that little movement brought her to remember how close he was. Too near. Her eyes went back to him, to his back, to the scar which she could just make out under the loose cloth. Jagged. Unforgiving. A flashback of that evening and what she thought he had done.

Her chest tightened. Out of war, he had said. But she had known.At least. she thought so. Or at least... she thought she did.

Queen Ella quickly looked away, trying to shove her thoughts back. No. She could not spare the suspicion. Skepticism was a sign of weakness and weakness might be her death.

Hours dragged on. The night was interminable. Sleep was in bits--short, shallow, and disjointed. Whenever she fell asleep, she woke up. Whenever she awoke, she looked around the room, the door, and him. Still there. Still asleep. Still-watching?

The thought made her freeze.

Queen Ella glanced round, thoughtfully. He hadn't moved. His breathing was regular. But there was something wrong. Too still. Too quiet.

Her heart started beating.

She sat up slowly, the bed shifting slightly beneath her, but he didn't react. Still asleep.

Queen Ella swung her feet to the floor, and her movements were quiet and restrained. The chill of the surface on which she lay brought her to her senses. She needed air. Space. Distance.

She stepped towards the window, every step being light and calculated, and she listened to see whether anything was going on behind her. There was none.

As she got to the window, she put her hand on the frame and peeped out. The sky was black and silent, and the dim silhouette of the palace grounds was hardly visible below. Peaceful. Deceptive. Nothing was safe about this place.

"You don't sleep."

The voice was behind her, and she instantly stood still. She stopped to catch her breath.

Slowly, she turned.

Augustine was no longer lying down, but sat up, and looked full at her. Awake. Watching.

Her pulse quickened.

You were up, she said to herself.

"Not at first."

His answer was calm. Too calm.

How long, she said.

A pause. Then-

"Long enough."

The words were heavy in the air. The fingers of Queen Ella clenched together. And so he had been observing her, examining her, even in the darkness.

Why feign to sleep? she inquired.

King Augustine stood, without haste, as though he had been anticipating this.

To know what thou wouldost do, he answered.

Shivers ran along her spine.

"And? What have you learnt?

He moved near, not hastily, not menacingly, but intentionally.

I found out you do not believe in what is around you, he said, and took another step. That you wake frequently. That you look about as a person who fears an attack.

He stopped in front of her, close-too close.

And above all, he said, his voice a little lower, you act as though you had a secret.

Queen Ella stood still with her heart thudding, yet her face was calm.

You are watchful, you are watchful, she said.

And you are wary, he answered.

There was a silence between them that was tense and unforgiving.

And then he stretched out.

Queen Ella stood still, but rather than his hand touching her face, it touched her wrist, only once,--enough to make her feel her pulse, which was rapid and uncontrolled.

He noticed. Of course he did.

You are afraid, he said to himself.

Queen Ella withdrew her hand. "I am cautious."

"Of me?"

"Yes."

The response was too easy. King Augustine gazed long at her.

"No." he said.

The silence was definite, sure.

Thou hast no fear of me.

The breath of Queen Ella came a little short.

Then what is it I fear?

There was another, longer pause, more calculated.

The truth. he said.

The term hit home more than it ought to have. Queen Ella was aware of it--painful and rough. It seemed real because it felt so in a moment.

The morning sun started to creep through the window, soft and pale, inevitable. The night was over, but whatever this was between them-it wasn't.

Augustine swiveled his head around, and looked at the light and then at her.

"You didn't sleep," he said.

"Neither did you."

There was a slight change in his face--almost a smile.

I did not, unlike you, he said.

Queen Ella scowled a little. "Why?" she asked

His response was prompt.

I wanted to see you.

She stopped her breath, but this time it was not fear. It was not that--it was not what she understood.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

A voice called to you, Your Majesty. The council is waiting.

King Augustine didn't look away from his wife Queen Ella.

Wait, he said, tell them to wait.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Footsteps died away, and silence fell again.

But not for long.

This time he came still nearer, nearer than before--near enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, near enough that there was no distance between them.

His eyes fell a moment on her mask and then went back to her eyes.

I shall ask thee, I will ask thee, he said.

The heart of Queen Ella beat.

"If I remove this..."

His hand rose once more, slow and deliberate.".what shall I find?

"...what will I find?"

All in her cried to retreat, to flee, to halt him. But she didn't move. She couldn't move. Something had told her that running now would make everything true.

So she stood and looked up at him.

Thou shalt find thy queen, she said.

Silence.

Then a little change of expression--not faith, not unfaith, but something between.

And again he dropped his hand.

This time, however, it was not a distance, but decision.

Quite all right, I said. "For now."

The words gave her a chilly shiver. They were not a culmination, but a commencement.

King Augustine was about to turn and go, but Queen Ella stood where she was, her heart still a-throbbing, her mind confused. He was coming nearer--nearer than she had intended, nearer than she was prepared. And one false step she made, and all would have been ruined.

The door opened and closed behind her.

Queen Ella took a breath, the first one she had breathed since she had entered the palace.

But the question was--heavy and inevitable--more dangerous than ever--

how many days would she be able to conceal herself before the king who knows all sees her?