Queen

by Daya Daniels

  Like the woman I love…

  If only she knew it.

  If only she would consider letting me slip into her mind.

  If only after all her tears wash away that she would open her eyes.

  How do you heal a broken heart when it revels in being cracked?

  A long and frustrated sigh slips from me.

  I’m yanked back to the present from the birdsong beyond the window.

  England…

  Breathtaking.

  Green.

  Picturesque.

  The rolling green hills. The gray sky. It is pure beauty.

  And then my eyes settle on Raven Forest.

  It is a black mass beyond all the green.

  I get lost in the quagmire of my thoughts for a moment…

  Gaius clears his throat. “Your Majesty…”

  My head swings in his direction. “I don’t trust them.” I rise.

  With a nod, Gaius stands still, hand on the pommel of his sword, head low, brows knotted.

  I refer to so much with my proclamation spoken a moment ago.

  Jean-Baptiste and Hamilton may be my advisors, but it is the knights whom I trust the most, and a king is only as strong and steadfast as the men who serve him. The man who remains in my presence was once my father’s most trusted advisor. Of all the men in his life, Father relied mostly on this man who stands before me—no other.

  He is not a talkative man, but I am keenly aware that his mind knows more than his lips will ever speak of…All of which he never tells of unless he is urged by my desperation. And desperation seems to be an all too common emotion swirling around my sleepy spirit these days.

  I feel it. I breathe it. I live it every single day…

  Heavy is the head which carries the crown…

  And wretched is the life of a king.

  So much keeps me awake at night…

  Swirling thoughts. Heavy heart. Bedsheets soaked in sweat. I can only lie awake and gaze out at Raven Forest and breathe in the crisp air which slips into my chamber’s cracked window.

  I sleep alone. I live alone. I am so, so alone.

  Silence crackles through the cedar-scented air.

  Gaius remains still and his eyes remain firmly on mine, waiting.

  I stride toward the fireplace with lazy movements and warm my hands once I make it there.

  “I am of the understanding that there aren’t many people in a king’s life whom he can trust…” Gaius’ lips are pressed together and then he offers me a small smile. “Your father, if he were standing here, would have uttered the same sentiment.”

  I run a hand over my bearded jaw. “Yes, I presume he would have.”

  The swift breeze which washes into the chamber stokes the fire burning. It rises and blazes, orange flames grow edged by blue, and the snap, crackle, and pop of the embers settle in my ears. I am warmed, finally.

  “I don’t trust them.” I examine my hands.

  The ones which had touched Briar so long ago.

  I can still feel her on my skin…

  The delicate scent of her still lingers in my nostrils.

  I can still taste her salty tears on my tongue.

  Even now, the images of perfection will not leave my mind, and the more I attempt to disregard them when I am awake, the more forceful the assault on my mind is when I am asleep. I can’t get her out of my head.

  And frankly, I don’t want to extricate her from my heart either.

  Gaius does not change position—hand on the pommel of his sword, head low and brows knotted, he observes me. “Your Majesty…”

  I am urged back to the present by his voice.

  “Yes.” I lift my head, accepting how heavy it has felt since I pledged myself to England—my treasure.

  Even though I am not presently wearing the crown, still I am.

  The entirety of England rests on my shoulders and often I wonder if I have the strength to bear it.

  I have already given so much…

  So many pieces of myself.

  Hope. Ambition. Sleep.

  Little morsels of self-respect…

  Things of that sort.

  Still, I would empty the pits of my soul completely to witness this nation rise to greater heights.

  Self-sacrifice is the true and noble mark of a ruler…

  My eyes meet Gaius’ gentle ones.

  “Your Majesty, please advise what you wish for us to do…” He lets out a little breath.

  I shift to face him completely. “I wish to pay a visit to the nobles and the barons in Cornwall.”

  “But, Your Majesty.”

  I raise my hand, silencing him.

  Gaius stiffens, caution robs the easy expression from his face which had once found its home there.

  “We will leave in a few weeks.”

  “Your Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but please. It is not wise for you to leave this castle. And if so, one can only give the wise advice that you do not venture, at the very most, beyond the hunting grounds.” He grips the pommel of his sword tighter. “After all, England only has one King. We will strive to protect you, but there are no guarantees of your safety if we travel far away from Hertfordshire. There are no assurances that all will be well, Your Majesty, even if we take the utmost precautions. I must strongly advise that you remain here.” Gaius’ brows arch as he drives the point home.

  My chest swells with an exhausted breath before I let it out.

  I have been held captive behind these twelve-inch-thick walls since I was a boy.

  Unless it was to travel beyond the drawbridge to hunt, I have also remained behind these walls since I had been confirmed as King. I have been imprisoned my entire life. Shackled to England like a slave in chains.

  Only she isn’t the only woman holding me down.

  It is a twisted desire within me that my life remain as such…

  “On another matter, Your Majesty, but what shall we do with Scotland?”

  A gentle smile touches my lips. “For now, leave her be.”

  Gaius’ eyes shut and he lets out a small sigh.

  Relief?

  Probably.

  Possibly.

  We have witnessed too many men perish while fighting to bring that nation of wild men under England’s rule. We do not have the time, nor the money, nor the armies to continue the battle and hope it ends on a winning front.

  “Yes, Your Majesty, thank you.” Gaius backs away from me.

  Striding across the room, I stop when I make it to a small table placed near the window. “Please advise Hamilton and Jean-Baptiste of my decision regarding both.” My eyes connect with his.

  “Is that all, Your Majesty?”

  I tap on the letter beneath my fingertips a few times, adoring the burgundy wax seal placed there—the House of Montforthe-Byron emblem. It is a letter I wrote many months ago. One which was returned to me unopened and still intact. The edges of the paper have yellowed and wrinkled, much like time has, other than that, nothing about it is different from the day I had ordered it sent off.

  To return a gift or a kind sentiment without a simple thank you is fucking disrespectful.

  But, I have more important matters to tend to than to fret about it.

  My focus remains on the woman I have come to imagine as being my own—her hazel eyes, her genuine and perfectly white smile that always almost knocks me down whenever she lets me have it…Her pink cheeks, her delicate hands, her fine flowers.

  And then my mind settles on the man who almost ruined her.

  A man who makes me want to throw an entire table at him so very often.

  My jaw ticks ever so slightly before I fight to control it. “No, that is not all.”

  Gaius’ brows arch as he waits patiently.

  I snatch up a red rose from the vase nearby me and fiddle with the petals. “Please tell my brother that I wish to speak with him, immediately.”


  With a nod, Gaius rushes off, and when the doors slam, I find myself alone once more.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Still, just like Briar, I find that, even in solitude, still I am anything but free.

  Briar

  “YOUR HAIR IS SO soft, Briar.” Beatrix makes long strokes with the brush over my strands.

  We stand facing the gold-rimmed mirror ahead.

  She smiles.

  “Thank you.” I gaze into my reflection’s eyes and my shoulders fall.

  This chamber is filled with the calming scent of lavender and the soap which fills the bathtub which still steams with warmth. It is late in the afternoon and beyond the window is the gray sky in all its beauty. Beatrix has been speaking for a while about this and that. I don’t know the particulars because I haven’t really been listening.

  “You seem troubled, Princess Briar.” She continues brushing.

  I am not amiss to the reality that I am no longer addressed as Her Royal Majesty…an honor and respect I had lost following the divorce. But still the people call me Princess Briar. Or, the Rose Princess. I much rather prefer the latter.

  Vesper stands off to the side, arms folded tightly across her chest and the most surly expression stamped on her face. She’s been standing there now for a while, just watching and waiting and frowning.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” Beatrix gathers my hair and proceeds to braid it.

  I sigh. “No, I am just tired.”

  Beatrix’s brows knot. “You have missed many dinners, Princess Briar.” Her face scrunches. “I know it is not my place to mention it, but I thought before it becomes an issue that you should know that the King is growing quite impatient about your decision to have dinner in your chamber most evenings.”

  “I cannot be expected to eat alone with the King.” I press my lips together.

  And when is he not impatient about something?

  “You would not be eating alone, Princess Briar. Often the Queen Mother accompanies the King at dinnertime.” Her brows arch. “But, often, he intimates that he would prefer your company, alone.” She smiles.

  Why doesn’t he just demand it?

  I would not be able to refuse.

  “I’d much rather eat in solitude in my chamber.” Where I’ve been enjoying my meals for months now…

  Beatrix lets out a long breath.

  My lips part. “Is Prince Zaccai—”

  Vesper steps forward. “Briar, do not.” Her face is fierce as she makes the command.

  But, I must.

  Beatrix’s eyes dart between the two of us in wonderment.

  “Is Prince Zaccai here?” My eyes plead. “Is he still here in the castle?”

  Vesper swears beneath her breath.

  “He is.” Beatrix adjusts my nightgown. “But, I know he is leaving soon.”

  A little gasp leaves me.

  My cries.

  My wails.

  My sobs and screams.

  He has heard them all then and has never come to my rescue.

  A cruel man…

  “Do you wish to see him?” Beatrix waits.

  I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, adoring my hazel eyes and the soft and pale skin around them which is often red and swollen. “No, I do not wish to see him.”

  With a nod, Beatrix steps away.

  I call after her. “But, please tell him to stay safe on his travels.”

  “Yes, Princess Briar, I will relay the message.” Beatrix tilts her head my way.

  Reaching out, I take Beatrix’s hand in mine. “Thank you, Beatrix, for being such a good friend.”

  “Yes, of course, Princess Briar.” She offers me a tiny smile then heads for the doors.

  CLICK.

  Silence befalls us.

  Vesper rushes forward, fingers wrapping tightly around my upper arms, eyes wild.

  “Please, Vesper, you do not have to be so unkind to her. She has been my lady-in-waiting for quite some time now. She has earned my trust. And she is good at what she does. She is my friend.” I implore my sister to understand.

  “Briar.” She grits her teeth. “Do you not see the worry in her eyes?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Vesper sucks her teeth, looks away from me, and then her browns are back on me, pensive. “It’s something about her, Briar, something I can’t quite put my finger on. I can just feel it in my bones.”

  A feigned gasp of shock leaves me, then I roll my eyes. “Feel what, Vesper?” I laugh. “You are being ridiculous.”

  Vesper shakes her head. “I don’t know…”

  I palm her warm cheeks. “You don’t know, Vesper, because there is nothing to know. I think that now since you are back in my life you just want me allllllllll to yourself.” I giggle.

  She smiles. “I suppose that could be it.”

  “Yes, maybe that is precisely it.” I pull her into a hug and hold her. “I’m so glad to have you back, dear sister. Please know that having you here with me now has been wondrous. I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

  I back away and examine my sister’s face, still even now, seeing all the love in her eyes for me.

  “I love you, Briar.”

  “I love you too, dear sister.”

  A pout perches on my lips. “So, please be kind to Beatrix.”

  She groans. “I may concede on some things, Briar, but I am afraid on that matter, I cannot.”

  A sigh of frustration drifts from me. “But, why not?” My brows knot painfully.

  Vesper’s expression is one of annoyance. “You said you have questions…”

  “Yes.”

  “Beatrix is the Queen Mother’s lady-in-waiting as well as yours…” Vesper states the obvious.

  “Yes.”

  “Beatrix hasn’t bled in months…”

  Relevance?

  I peer at Vesper confused, knowing that since she has been living behind the walls of Berkhamsted Castle she has made friends with almost everyone here. There isn’t a whisper which Vesper’s ears do not catch or a rumor which manages to escape her clutches…but I ask the question anyways. “How do you even know that?”

  She shakes her head dramatically. “It doesn’t matter…but she hasn’t.”

  “Sooooo.” My voice lowers to a whisper.

  Vesper scoffs. “She is unwed, Briar.”

  What Vesper hints at hits me hard, like a cold, cold breeze and I gasp.

  “She is afraid, Briar.” Vesper’s jaw clenches. “She is afraid of something…” She clutches me tighter.

  “What shall I do then?”

  Vesper tips her head forward just once. “You said you have questions…”

  “Yesssss.”

  “Well, I suspect that if you ask the right ones under the perfect circumstances, that Beatrix, that distrustful, horrible wench will give you your answers.”

  Alexander

  “I AM LEAVING FOR France.” Zaccai stands in the middle of the room.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, I am leaving in a fortnight. I shall be back in a few months.”

  Sitting in front of the chessboard, I move the bishop to where I believe it should be and then I wait.

  Zaccai runs a hand over his jaw, clearly unimpressed that he has been summoned here. His dark hair is disheveled, as are his fine clothes, and his eyes appear as if he’s had even less sleep than I have.

  I say nothing more, only wait, wait, wait.

  With a sigh, Zaccai marches over to the table I sit to and plops down in the chair on the other side of it like a disgruntled child. Then with his index finger settled on a pawn, he pushes it across the chessboard and sits back in the chair.

  “You look like something that just crawled up and out of the latrine.” Laughing, I move the knight.

  Zaccai pushes another pawn across the chessboard.

  I make another move.

>   He does the same, always, always, always only moving the pawns. “I suppose I am a little worse for wear, Brother, as you can imagine I should be. After all, you have given me no choice but to break the heart of a woman who does not deserve to possess one. You have forced me to abandon my wife.” His eyes grow cold. “Maybe I didn’t love her, but I never would have abandoned her, Alexander, not in a million centuries.”

  “Oh, stop bleating, Brother. Even though you chose to remain betrothed, you abandoned her long ago…” I make another move.

  “She cries every day, Alexander.” He sucks in a breath. “Every-single-day, she remains outside of those doors, wailing, and I cannot take it anymore. I cannot listen to her pain any longer.”

  A soft laugh leaves me. “So, you are leaving Berkhamsted Castle…”

  “Yes, just for a little while.”

  I nod.

  He does the same.

  I move the bishop.

  Zaccai moves another pawn.

  There is so much value in those pawns. They are not to be overlooked. They are integral to the game.

  “Briar has not been abandoned.” My statement is firm.

  “She has lost her royal titles and any rightful claim to land that I have ever had, Alexander.” His words are fierce as every muscle in his face locks up tight.

  “Maybe so.” Relaxed, I gaze into my brother’s eyes. “But she has a home. This castle will always be her home, just as I imagine Father has always wished it to be.” I push the knight across the chessboard. “She has not been abandoned.”

  Zaccai shifts the queen.

  I move the king on the chessboard. “Checkmate.”

  With the swoop of an arm and raging, he swipes all the pieces off the chessboard. I cringe when all the pieces go flying everywhere. Everything loses its rightful place.

  And I know I must set all the pieces in order again…

  They hit the wall with a wild commotion and scatter across the stone floor.

  He rises, hands planted on the table, and with fury blazing across his face, he dips down and nears mine. “Brother, what did you bring me here for?” He breathes harshly through his nose.

  Unmoving, I peer up into his eyes, unblinking, and frankly undisturbed by his anger. “Sit…down.”