The Masked Princess Bound To The King She Hates

The feast seemed to lengthen out into infinity.

The great hall was filled with music, which mingled with the laughter, the sound of glasses, and the murmur of the nobles who were willing to impress their new king and queen. There were golden lights that were twinkling on the polished floors as dancers moved gracefully with their elegance concealing the tension that was just under the surface.

Queen Ella was seated next to King Augustine, and her pose was perfect, her face concealed with a mask. She had hardly taken a bite of her food. All the movements, all the words, all the glances in the hall were a play she could not allow herself to flunk.

Eat, King Augustine said to her.

She stiffened slightly. It was not an implication, it was an observation.

Yes, I am, she said, but her plate was almost untouched.

He did not argue, but she felt the slight change of his focus on her. Watching. Noticing. Always noticing.

Queen Ella took up her fork, and had to bite a little. The flavor escaped her; her thoughts were away, ever on the alert, ever on the reckoning. This wasn't a celebration. It was a battle-field. and she was encircled.

Nobles bowed their heads across the hall as King Augustine glanced over them. Power emanated out of him like a breeze, as though the whole room was at his beck and call. This was the man she was to ruin. The idea held her. She maintained her head straight, without looking directly at him.

Do you not like celebrations? he suddenly asked.

The query startled her.

No, she replied after a moment. I simply like more quiet places.

"Do you?" His voice was noncommittal, yet there was something investigative about it.

Queen Ella said nothing. She could feel the conversation veering into more perilous territory, so she stayed quiet.

After a moment, King Augustine rose to his feet. The hall quieted down immediately.

Go on, he said to the crowd, and his voice could be heard easily. It is early in the night.

But his eyes darted a moment at his new weeded wife Queen Ella, and she knew. This part was over.

The stroll back to the royal apartments was not the same. The sound of the feast died away behind them and in its place was the low murmur of their steps along the stone walks. The air was colder. Heavier. More intimate.

Queen Ella was walking beside him, all too conscious of the distance between them--and of how simply it might be lost. As they walked into the chamber the doors closed behind them with a deep, final sound. There was a silence that fell upon them, pushing against her chest.

King Augustine was the first to do so, untying the knot of his cloak and laying it aside. His gestures were very gentle and slow, as though he were perfectly at his ease. Ella stood where she was, waiting and watching.

Will you stand there all night, he said, not looking at her.

I would rather be on the safe side, she said.

That won her a look--a quick one--but that was sufficient to hasten her heartbeat.

"Cautious," he repeated. "Of me?"

Through the mask Queen Ella looked up at him. "Should I not be?"

A pause. Then, surprisingly-

"No."

The reply was too readily, too placidly. Nothing threatened her as much as this did.

King Augustine turned his back on her, and reached to the fastening at the back of his tunic. She hesitated a moment. Then she spoke.

"You were injured."

He paused, no more than a moment, but she saw.

"I've been in many battles," he said.

"That's not what I meant."

Before she could prevent it the words came out. King Augustine turned and Queen Ella went nearer, her eyes fixed on something which she had just seen as he passed. The cloth behind him had slipped. And there-a scar.

Not small. Not shallow. It made a jagged, uneven cut across his back, as though it had been struck with violence and purpose. It was old, but not forgotten. The breath of Queen Ella stopped, and her heart leaped. She knew that scar. Not by sight, by memory. Out of the tales whispered in fright. Since the night it all caught fire.That, she said, with a lower voice.

"That..." she began, her voice quieter now. Where did you get it?

King Augustine did not turn to her this time.

War, he said simply.

War. The term reverberated in her head. Her fingers were slightly curled on her sides. Because she knew better. It was no common battle wound.That scar. it was the result of the invasion of her father kingdom. That scar... it came from the attack on her father's kingdom. Since the night his army invaded the palace. Since all that she loved was ruined.

Her heart sank, and she struggled not to move.

You talk about it and I have heard you, she said, her voice very carefully checked.

Should I not? he answered.

Queen Ella looked him over.

You almost died at that, she said.

This time he whipped around, his eyes becoming more focused.

Knowest thou that?

The question was more of a blow than it ought to have been. Queen Ella froze. There was a moment of silence between them. Dangerous. Too dangerous.

I--, she was about to say, when she checked herself. "It looks severe."

King Augustine gazed longer this time, as though he were weighing her words, trying to find something under them. Then he came slowly nearer.

The heart of Queen Ella fluttered.

You see better than most, he said to himself.

His voice was not accusatory, though conscious. And that was worse. Queen Ella struggled not to withdraw, not to respond, not to show anything.

I see what I see before me, she said.

"Do you?"

Another step. Too close now. Her breath was caught, yet she stood her ground. Augustine glanced a moment at her mask, and then at her.

And what have you seen. my queen?

The question hung, ponderous. Queen Ella could feel it rubbing up against her, and it was a challenge to her control. She raised her head a little.

That thou art not as thou seemest.

She could not help saying the words. A mistake. She was aware of it at once. Something had changed in his face--a little, but there was no mistaking it. Interest.

The silence which followed was not the same. Charged. Alive. King Augustine read her as though she had just told him more than she meant to.

You talk with caution, he said finally.

"I try to."

And yet, he said, with a lower voice, you say things that are to the contrary.

The heartbeat of Queen Ella was beating in her ears. She had gone too near the truth, and he had observed. Of course he had. This was no man to be easily fooled.

You are wrong, she said.

"Am I?"

He called out in a sudden. Queen Ella drew a breath, but his fingers, rather than falling on her face, ran delicately along the sewing of her sleeve. A mere gesture, but it was intentional. Controlled.

"You are full of contradictions," he murmured.

Her breath caught.

And you are full of secrets, she thought before she could restrain herself.

Another mistake. Another silence. This time, heavier than ever. King Augustine never took his eyes off her--not a moment.

Be careful, he said.

It was not the word of warning, it was the promise. Queen Ella shivered. As at that moment she knew something. It was no ordinary marriage. Not just a game. It was a fight of consciousness. And she wasn't the only one playing.

Queen Ella stood by the window again, her mind troubled, later when the candles burned low and the palace was quiet. Everything came back to her: the scar, what he said, what he looked at. He knew something. Not all, but enough to be hazardous.

She heard movement behind her--slow, deliberate. She didn't turn, but she spoke.

You continue to watch me.

A pause. Then-

"Yes."

Her breath stilled.

And why not? she said.

It was answered after a moment--quiet, sure.

Since you are not what you pretend to be.

The heart of Queen Ella sank. The room was still--heavy, unforgiving. And then--King Augustine spoke, this time lower, nearer.

So say me. who did I marry just now?