The Queen

Chapter Seven

Alexander sighed as he entered his room that night. She was within his grasp and yet he had not been able to even speak to her. That simple fact was torturing him. Her waist was so slender. So small beneath his hand.

His pulse had taken such a leap this afternoon from that brief encounter that he had one of the nurses check his blood pressure using the excuse he wanted to make sure the new equipment was up to regulations.

That was a complete lie and Maxwell had ribbed him about it the entire way back to the palace. But he had never had such a feeling before. Maxwell might laugh, but he was not at all sure that Katherine was not a danger to his health. Though he was more than willing to take that chance.

He wasn't exactly sure when it happened or even when it started. All he knew for sure was that right here and now, he was feeling something for her that he couldn't pinpoint — even without meeting and without speaking — and he could only hope that she was feeling the same way.

He sighed. It wasn't as though he had not been around beautiful women before. But there was something about Katherine. Something more than just her beauty. She was real. Genuine and kind. A rare combination.

He wondered across his bedroom suite and searched...it had to be here somewhere. Finally, he pulled out an old chest. He drew in a shaky breath.

He hadn't opened this case since the day he had slammed the lid shut all those years ago. Removing an old violin case, he blew the dust from the cover.

He hadn't played since the night his brother died. Pulling the antique item from its case, with a shaky hand he began to tune it.

A tear or two trickled down his cheek. He had lost a piece of himself when his brother died...a piece he never imagined he'd get back. Nor had he wanted to. Eric was the one that always encouraged his love of music. When he died, so did Alex's love of music.

Once it reached a perfected sound, he neared his balcony window and began to play.

Finally, he had a reason to play again and he only hoped she would hear.

* * * *

Ms. Hannah wandered down the long East wing, dusting merrily along each rail. Suddenly she heard a soft tune in the distance. It sounded like violin music. She shook her head.

That was a silly thought. She assured herself that in her old age she must be hearing things. Yet as she continued on towards the West wing, the clearer it became.

She stopped and pondered to herself. It had been years since she had heard the King play when he had been just a boy...yet that was the only explanation.

He had put away all of his personal instruments when his brother died. Saying that a piece of himself had died that night too. A piece that would never return. So what had caused him to play this night, she wondered.

Then with a tiny chuckle to herself, she felt she knew. Her King was falling in love for the first time. What a wonderful thing young love was. Love was a healer of the most shattered heart. She and her husband had been married sixty-two years before his untimely death had separated them.

She smiled remembering the sparks of their young love. Young love is like a flame; a very pretty, often very hot and fierce flame, but still only light and flickering. The love of the older and disciplined heart is as coals; deep, burning, and unquenchable. True love only grows.

That was what they'd had together and that was what she hoped for the King. A few of the women seemed to hear the tune and had wondered from their suites down the hall. Desperately Ms. Hannah searched through them. Finally, she reached the door she was headed for and tapped lightly.