“Like you're doing to me now.” She rose when he rose and crutched his kingly garment. “Please, don't do this to me, Lucien. I don't want to go.” But even as she pleaded, she saw the unmoving resolve from his eyes. He had made his decision and would not go back on it.
Defeated, Vetta let go of his robe. More tears filled her eyes.
He palmed her cheek. “You are always allowed in the palace. You know that, right? And I will come and visit once in a long blue moon. This is not me letting my mistress go; this is me letting my friend heal. My family.”
“Am I? Y-your friend? F-family?” she asked in a small thin voice, like a child who's scared to hope.
“You are. You, Baski, Chad. You all will always be my family, my friends. You are.”
A tiny bit of the bitterness and hatred in her heart left her. She felt better. Not all good, but better.
Vetta nodded her head at last, wiping her tears. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He nodded, too, and let go of her cheek.
She was still crying as she headed for the door, and her world crumbled at her feet.
With each step she took, memories of her filled him. Raped. Beaten. Mocked. Whipped. The woman that always went to extremes to protect him.
“Vetta?”
She turned and glanced at him.
He walked towards her, pulled her close and kissed her. It wasn't a kiss of hunger, but a sweet gesture for her to hold onto while she finds herself in the world. A kiss was uncharted territory for her, she had no idea how to go about it, but she did respond. Pouring in her ugly heart and disfigured soul into that single action. Into that rope he was giving her which she was sure he would never give her again. She stood and poured everything into that memory he was creating for her.
“Thank you for giving me this memory,” she whispered when he pulled back. More burdens left her heart. She felt like a stitch was weaving together her battered heart.
“Take care of yourself, Anarieveta,” he said, then he stepped back. “Dargak.”
The door opened and the guard entered. The king nodded his head.
Dargak bobbed his, too, before he turned and led the mistress out of her bedroom. Out of the palace.
King Lucien stood afterward. Alone.
Late at night, Queen Danika couldn't sleep. She wet her bed with tears, missing the king so much it was like a physical ache. And it hurt more than the pain in her back that refused to go away.
The door opened and Sally entered the bedroom. Seeing her princess crying, she walked towards her bed and sat on it. “Please, stop crying, my queen.”
“I can't sleep. I miss him so much, Sally,” she whispered tearfully.
“I know you do, my queen.” She patted her back in consolation.
“And I can't help but worry about him. Will he be able to go to sleep? Is he taking care of himself?” She shook her head. “I just don't know, Sally.”
“I understand that you worry, my queen, but you won't be able to do anything about it—at least not this night. All you can do is to take care of yourself and his child. Get enough sleep. And tomorrow? We will think again.”
“But I c-can't sleep. The bed is so cold because he's not in it!” Danika cried like a child. “My child has turned my belly to a football field; he's kicking the devil out of me. I w-want my king. I want his arms around me. It's so p-pathetic, but I want to sleep snuggled up in his arms, Sally. This bed is so c-cold!”
“Alright. How about I lie down with you? I'll hold you, my queen. I'll cuddle you so you can sleep?” Sally asked hopefully.
It only made Danika cry harder. “You're all s-soft and small and feminine, but you don't have his scent. I love you, Sally, but you're not him!”
Sally didn't go. Instead, she laid down on the bed beside her. And she was smiling. “I know I'm not him, but here I'll still lend you myself, my princess.”
Danika snorted, but she let Sally lay down on the bed. Sally reached for a story book in her bed cabinet and withdrew it. Opening the book, she began reading stories to her—just like she always did when Danika was still a princess, and she, her personal maid.
The pregnant queen listened to the story—to the sound of her beloved friend's voice. It took a long time, but eventually the tiredness overwhelmed Danika and she began feeling drowsy.
“Sally?” she called drowsily.
“Yes, my queen.”
“What next? What happens next?”
Sally watched her princess—queen—fall asleep. The question kept revolving in her head. Indeed, what happens next?
Only the future will answer that. She, herself, was curious to know the answer the future had for her queen... for her... for all of them.
.
.