My Beloved Queen

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

xlii. the knight and the believer

gift
// the gods are a love rebuked. a sight familiar shirked—made strange and unknown—but turn from them all he may, their gift bears down upon him still, for when he gazes upon his hands, he faces the very wickedness they designed.

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The knight rose with the sun, while the castle was still quiet and sluggish, but he spared a moment to press a kiss to his queen's lips. Orelus had been much too perturbed to sleep, but the winter was cold, and who else might help warm the darling queen's bed?

The morning passed like a dream, and Isil returned—but in the eyes of all others arrived—early to his queen's chambers. He waited as he always did, first in the quiet, but the sound of a familiar set of footsteps eventually dampened the silence. Helesis arrived almost as she always did, but now she slowed at the sight of him—he heard the change, the slight hesitation in her step—and then, once she reached the door the queen's chambers, almost paused. Her attention was of the thin, careful sort, like a spider web—a constant pressure, but visible only in a certain light, a certain angle or time—and that time was brief and angle small. Yet now Isil felt it, and without turning his head, he glanced down at her.

Her face was angled to the door, but she watched him out of the corner of her eye, and though her hand was outstretched, ice had crept into her fingers. They hung in the air, still as stone just above the door handle, but ever more curious was the light in her eyes: how bright and warm and familiar it was, and yet tentative. Her stare was moving; it fled down him, and its pace was slow and careful—appreciative, or perhaps simply curious.

"Is something the matter?" he inquired, and his tone was neither loud nor harsh, but Helesis jumped as though he'd shouted. The line of her spine went as rigid as a board, and a flush erupted like fire across her face.

"Not—Not at all." She hastened to shake her head, and the embarrassment that colored her cheeks and brightened her eyes burned scarlet. Her tongue tripped over her own teeth, and her voice started and stopped and started again, but her thoughts were smoldering, and he watched them flake and burn. "Pardon me, I—I—"

Concern pulled at his lips, and while she stumbled and stuttered and descended quicker and quicker into an ever-deepening hole, he leaned very slowly and carefully past her and then opened the door to the queen's chambers. His arm brushed hers, and the lady-in-waiting immediately stilled; her mouth snapped shut and her sharp blue eyes grew terribly wide, but without speaking, Isil merely nodded to the room and then, when she still paused, he eyed her pointedly.

A color not unlike shame darkened Helesis's face, and she cast her gaze to the floor, drew her arms tightly to herself and offered Isil a quick and quiet, "Thank you," before disappearing into the queen's chambers. He let the door fall shut behind her, and silence descended once more upon the hall, but it lasted no longer than it ever did.

The queen appeared, noble and sure, and though she could spare him little more than a glance and a nod, there was still warmth to the motions—the pleasant, lingering sort. He dipped his head in return, and the queen looked away from him and began, lightly, "Why don't we spare Augur Molevri a visit, hmn? He may fare better this morning."

Lady Helesis nodded her head, and politely agreed, saying, "He may indeed, Your Majesty."

Doubt weighed down upon Isil's tongue, but the queen's tone was so light, so hopeful, and so he bit his tongue and said nothing. Perhaps the boy did fare better. Wounds might heal, but some festered—some fell to rot and pus, and turned flesh red and yellow and green.