The Unlikely Queens

5

"How could you come here? He will tell you to leave, to never look for him again. He will think you are stupid. How could be so foolish? Like a silly schoolgirl in love. He will be appalled--" I  mumble to myself as I pace by the border, my hands on my hips.

I am wearing a new dress just for Mohtali. It is a long solid pastel pink dress with long sleeves and square neckline, tiny pearls dotted along it. My dark brown, almost black hair is in tight curls down my back. My mother was in the kitchen tending to her flower arrangements for all the rooms when I left, so she did not see I was dressed better than usual as I called out my goodbye and closed the door behind me.

"What do you think he will say?" I begin to talk to myself again as I bring my hand to my mouth and bite my fingernails. "You are from Parandor. He will not want to be your friend, let alone your...betrothed or anything like that."

I bury my head in my hands and sigh loudly. I was so excited to see Mohtali again that I didn't even think about what I would say to him. I can't blurt out that I have affection for him when I barely know anything about him. Even though that is the truth, he will not receive that well. He has no reason to feel the same way about me, especially since he risked a war to help me. But I must make my intentions clear. I do not want this to be the last time I see him.

If he decides to come. If he doesn't, that will be even more embarrassing than blurting out some foolish confession of love.

I hear the jangling of reins and horse hooves beating the ground laden with freshly fallen leaves. Mohtali rounds the corner and stops at the bent tree on the same chestnut horse as when I met him. I clasp my hands in front of me as his eyes meet mine. Mohtali smiles at me and jumps down from his horse energetically.

"Miss Dahlia," He approaches the boundary as much as he possible can, basically standing on it. "I received your note."

I curtsy, "Your Majesty. I am glad you could come."

"Did you think I would not?"  He rests his hands behind his back and smiles at me playfully.

"Yes. We are supposed to be enemies." I find myself with a ridiculous grin on my face.

I am overjoyed he is here. Nervous excitement courses through me, making my blood run hot.

"I have no reason to be your enemy, Miss Dahlia. Your king, certainly. But not you."

I nod. I don't want to speak with him about that now.

"Why did you want me to meet you?" He asks with a tilt of his head.

I begin to tremble. I expected this question, but now that he has spoken it, I don't know what I want to stay. I have never had to tell someone that my heart yearns for them, that the moment I saw them I wanted them in my life. I have felt affection for young men in the past, but never this passionately. I laid awake in bed for hours last night imagining us together. I thought about his strong arms around me, kissing me with his soft lips, and holding my hand as we walked through fantastical, almost heavenly, gardens together.

"Have you ever felt like you were you were confronted by your destiny?" I answer his question with a question.

Mohtali hums and nods slowly, "Yes. I realized for the first time when I was a young boy that I would take my fathers place as Chief of Chiefs. He retrieved this big book that has been passed down from father to son for over a hundred years and showed me my place in the family tree and succession. I was only five years old and I could not fathom that I would lead thousands of people. I knew I had no choice but to follow in my father's footsteps."

"Yes, you understand. I feel as though I have no choice but to..." I trail off.

"But to see me?" Mohtali suggests.

"Yes." My face grows hot. "I--well, I believe my destiny...is--"

"Intertwined with mine?" He says, a happy lift to his voice.

I life my eyes from the ground to meet his, not realizing that I looked away from him.

"Yes," I admit. My heart is beating so quickly in my chest that my collarbone begin to ache. "Is that incredibly stupid of me?"

"No, Miss Dahlia, I--"

"Do not call me miss." I interrupt.

"Dahlia," He smiles before he steps closer to me, stepping over the border.

I gasp and step back instinctively, whipping my head around to ensure nobody is watching.

"It is alright," He whispers.

I shyly glance up at him again. He smells lovely. It is a combination of the strong smell of the outdoors, earthy like the leaves and flowers. But it also reminds me of my father's cologne, sweet and hypnotizing.

"When I first saw you, I felt the same. I had to know you as well as I know myself. May I?"

I beam, "Yes. Nothing would make me happier."

"Unfortunately, I cannot see you everyday. But I can write to you daily and have my border guard meet you here at around this time—what is it? About two—and you can exchange letters with him. Would you like that?"

"Yes, that will be perfect."

"It is done," He takes my hands in his and brings them to his lips.

My breath catches in my throat as he kisses my knuckles gently, his lips like a whisper against my skin.

"I look forward to your letter tomorrow. I will be thinking of you." He smiles before releasing my hands. "I must return. A chief's duties never end."

He cross back over the border and jumps up on his horse with a single swing of his leg. Mohtali gazes at me again and I give a small curtsy. He gives me a nod, like a bow.

I turn to leave and I hear him call out to me.

"Yes, Majesty?"

"Did you wear that dress just for me?" He grins. "You look as though you are going to King Vincent's court."

"Perhaps I did," I swing the skirt flirtatiously. "Perhaps I did not."

~

"Dahlia, I am glad you are home. Did you see any more of your mystery man?" Mother asks with a smile when I return home, coming in from the kitchen with a vase of red roses to put on the table near the front door. 

Father is home early, in the sitting room drinking tea and reading a thick book. 

"Unfortunately not." I feign disappointment as I start upstairs to my room. "I didn't see him today."

"Do not worry. Your father and I are working on that. Aren't we, darling?" 

"We think you could be meeting your young man very soon." Father glances up at with a bemused look. 

"Thank you." I say distractedly. 

I am not worried at all. They will not find "my young man" and I can see where this new connection with Mohtali leads. I feel another pang of guilt for lying and letting my parents chase a creation of my imagination. I push it to the back of my mind and close my bedroom door behind me. I sit at my desk with a clean sheet of paper, beginning my first letter.