Queen of the Ashes

VIII.

The queen did not sleep well the evening after her conversations with the prince and her sister.

Once her public – and private – meetings with the prince had become common knowledge, even solitude was unbearable for her, and she instructed her steward to pack her schedule to the brim. At first, she managed to keep clear of both the prince and princess for a day or two, and push the inconvenient thoughts and feelings to the back of her mind.

But where purposeful avoidance had been her modus operandi for so many years, she now found it ill-suited to drown out the chorus of whispers, murmurs, and rumors which increasingly pursued her through every nook and cranny of the castle. By the end of the week, she had missed two or three meetings, and instead spent them pacing in her room until snow whipped around her in a blinding flurry.

Her attendance at social events likewise dropped off, as she found that she could not help but stare with undisguised longing at the prince and princess from the other end of dinner tables and large rooms. She was too fearful to approach them publicly, but also too ashamed of her own avoidance to speak with them.

Whenever the urge struck her to try, she was stopped in her tracks by her father's mantra.

Don't let it show.

It was not until she received a discreet note under her door one evening that the queen paused to reconsider her current course of action – or inaction, as it were – as the sudden appearance of the small, folded paper stirred her from her endless brooding.

She plucked it from the floor, opening it with bated breath.

I hope you're okay. I miss you.

She recognized her sister's flowery script immediately, and pressed the page flat atop her dresser, rereading those two short sentences until the words in them became distorted.

Her face red, she sat down with a thud upon her chair, and belatedly noticed that the snow she had involuntarily conjured was suspended in the air.

She blinked in wonder at the sight, having only seen it happen a few times before; and after glancing at the note again, the snow and ice which had previously stuck to every surface of her room began to disappear.

Her mouth went agape for a moment, and then for an entire minute.

What's missing for you?

It closed again, and she exhaled.

I miss you.

»» —— ««

Galvanized with a strange sense of purpose, the queen was too excited to sleep, and greeted the morning sun with restless eyes just as it rose over the horizon.

She slipped on her signature blue gloves – defrosted and cleaned – and pressed her crown atop her plaited hair as the final touch before stepping out, walking at a measured pace to the other end of the hallway. Once there, she dismissed the guards nearby and knocked lightly on the door, swallowing the lump of uncertainty that was stuck in her throat.

No answer to her knock came for a few seconds, which then turned into minutes.

Holding her head high, she knocked again, rapping her fingers harder against the wooden door. When she was met with more silence, she sighed, her head lowering in resignation.

In the same moment, the door creaked open, and the groggy, disheveled features of the princess appeared from behind it, the younger woman's eyes squinting through the sleep that blurred them.