The Queen

Preface / Chapter One

Alexander raised his glass of seventy-four-year-old Chateau Mouton-Rothschild 1945, closed his eyes and sniffed the complex bouquet of the ruby red wine. The slightly rugged scent of mint, dried green moss, vanilla, and dried pine needles drifted upward.

Perfect.

Then again, at twenty-three thousand dollars a bottle, it should be. But the cost was of no consequence. It was a small price to pay in comparison to his costly divorce.

After years of abstinence — he sipped the crimson liquid. His face grew grim as the taste of dried soil, raspberries and sweet dried cherries flowed down his throat and the taste lingered on his tongue. The flavors did not sit well with his palate anymore.

Shame.

There was a time when he would have savored every drop in the bottle...but alas, there was a time when he would have done a great deal differently. He found the very thought of it quite humorous now.

With a rueful sigh, Alexander tossed the glass into the roaring flames of the marble fireplace and with it the bottle. The glass shattered, along with his thoughts.

What have I done?  He asked himself. Perhaps I made a mistake.

He shook his head. That was a ridiculous thought. There was no other way. He knew that and yet, he could not seem to find happiness.

The door shook as another man entered the room and bowed. Merely paying him a half glance, Alexander queried, "What troubles you, Maxwell?"

The man named Maxwell wrung his hands together as if he were trying to get the last drops of water from a rag, "May I speak freely, sir?" Alexander gave a slight nod.

Nervously, and though quite reluctant, Maxwell whispered his plea, "Your Majesty, the country needs a Queen."

Chapter One

Another blissful morning dawned in the suburban streets of Siena, Italy as Katie awoke and prepared herself for work. As the sun peeked its head over the trees, the autumn leaves drifted softly through the crisp October air.

She could never grow tired of this season. The weather was at a perfect degree, as the colors, sights, and smells ushered in the holiday season. The feeling of immense possibilities filled the air.

Katie stirred the creamer into her coffee and sighed. As much as she loved this season, something was missing. Gazing out the window at the couple walking by hand-in-hand sharpened her memory.

Romance.

Romance was missing. Not only in the season, but in her life. This time of year always made her a little melancholy in the fact that she would be celebrating the holidays alone yet again.

She wouldn't be completely alone, she did have her older cousin, Mark that she lived with. Though he had always been more of a father figure to her than a cousin, being nearly thirty years her senior. Mark took her in after her parents had died when she was just a small child and he was the only family she had ever known.

Peering over his newspaper at her, Mark broke her trance, "I thought we could go to the festival later." Katie nodded, never looking up, "Oh...yes, I suppose we could go to the festival."

Mark chocked his head and arched his brow, "Okay, what's wrong?"

Katie shook her head, "Oh, it's nothing. Really."

Mark smirked, "I know you better than that, Katie. You've been talking about the festival nonstop and when I finally tell you we can go, you don't seem to care. What's troubling you? Dreams again?"