---
"Why?" Mahalia muttered under her breath—again.
It had been hours since her conversation with Zachary. The procession had ended, and it was now time for the fruit-sharing ceremony, yet her mind still lingered on one puzzling thought: her delight at Eileen's departure.
Why was she happy? She didn't even know the woman well enough to dislike her. Yes, Mahalia knew Eileen was rude and pompous, but she also knew she was one of the most stunning women alive. Maybe that was it?Was she happy simply because she wouldn't have to stand next to someone so beautiful?
Was I insecure? Jealous?
But Mahalia had never been the type—and even if she were, why would she be jealous now?
So many questions… and no answers in sight.
She sighed and handed a basket of peaches to a villager. They bowed, murmured a short prayer, and she returned their smile.
Despite the turmoil in her mind, Mahalia carried on with her duties as Queen—moving through the straw market, sharing fruit. In return, people promised to bring fruit back to the palace.
She had expected Awin to be livid when he learned they wouldn't be sharing fruit together, but he seemed preoccupied with other matters. That surprised her. She knew Awin didn't love her—but she also knew she was his obsession. He would never pass up an opportunity to claim ownership over her. His indifference meant only one thing: he was feeling cornered and was making swift plans. She'd simply have to be faster.
"Your Highness!" a group of villagers called out.
She smiled and handed them fruit.
A crowd of children pulled her aside, eager to talk about ponies, dragons, gutters, and every other random thing that caught their fancy.
Mahalia listened patiently, smiling—content, yet unable to hide the occasional wince.
"I apologize on the children's behalf," one mother said.
Mahalia shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for."
"But you seem tired."
Mahalia paused, looking down at her feet as if realizing for the first time just how tired she was. "My feet ache," she muttered absentmindedly.
"That happens to me all the time!" a boy shouted. "I soak my feet in the cold lake!"
Mahalia smiled. "Thank you for the advice."
The children finally left, the lake boy's father scolding him as they went.
---
The Cold Lake
The distant, shimmering stars hung serene and lonely above—so different from the bustle of the festivities far below.
Mahalia sat a considerable distance away from the crowds, staring at the sky's reflection rippling across the water.
Peace. That was what she felt.
Until she heard a twig snap.
She stood instantly, ready to run or fight if necessary—only to see Zachary emerge from the shadows, his face mirroring her confusion.
"Your Highness."
"Ah, yes. Your Highness," she replied, turning her back to him and returning to soaking her feet.
"I was just out for a stroll and… found myself here," Zachary offered.
"Hmm."
Silence settled between them as they both watched the distant glow of the festival.
"Is it okay… you being away from the ceremony?" he asked.
"It should be. I've given all the fruits out."
"But you haven't received any?"
Mahalia frowned. "Is that necessary?"
Zachary chuckled. "That's just like you." He sat down beside her. "The ceremony isn't complete without receiving."
"It's not a problem. The palace receives fruit on my behalf."
"Maybe so—but to properly conclude the ceremony, you're supposed to thank God for the harvest and then eat the fruit you've received."
Mahalia raised an eyebrow. "Why have I never heard that before?"
"Okay, I'll go first." She decided to humor him. "I'm grateful that I'm so powerful and scary that you've been running away from me."
Zachary's brow furrowed. "Running away from you?"
"You can't deny you've been cruelly cold to me."
"Cruel?" He scoffed. "Mahalia, this is supposed to be a serious moment and you're using it to be petty. And let's circle back—when exactly have I been cruelly cold to you?"
"So you're saying you haven't been cold to me?"
"I admit I was a bit cold. I just intended to keep—argh, that's not the point. I wasn't cruel. I could never bear to be cruel to you."
"And who are you to decide if you've been cruel or not?" Mahalia's voice rose. "I was so hurt by your coldness, it felt like I'd been left to die in a glacier!"
Her words hung heavy between them. Zachary fell silent, and for a long moment, the only sound was Mahalia's quickened breathing.
Finally, he leaned closer. "Mahalia, it was never my intention. You matter too much for me to hurt you on purpose. I didn't think my actions would affect you like that."
Mahalia's anger softened. "Well… you should also know that you matter more than you think. I care about what you think."
"I'm sorry," Zachary whispered.
Mahalia nodded. She wanted to look at her feet—anything to hide her embarrassment—but her gaze stayed locked on him. She felt like she was drowning in his eyes… but she wasn't afraid.
And in that moment, she began to understand exactly why she had been so happy when Eileen was sent home.
A sudden burst of fireworks pulled them out of their trance.
Zachary cleared his throat. "So… what are you really grateful for?"
"I'm grateful for success—past, present, and future."
He smiled. "I'm grateful for festivals."
---
Back at the Straw Market
By the time they returned, the pageantry had died down. Drunk revelers staggered home, and merchants were shuttering their stalls.
"We're too late," Zachary muttered as the last merchant closed shop. They had planned to receive fruit to end the ceremony.
"I guess that's just our luck," Mahalia said.
"But—" he stopped mid-sentence, spotting a boy running toward them.
"You're still awake?" Zachary asked when the boy reached them—it was the same boy who had dragged him into the procession earlier.
"As you can see. Why are you still outside?" the boy countered.
"We only have fruit so far. We were hoping to receive some, but I guess we lost track of time," Zachary explained.
"That's bad," the boy said gravely. "My mother says we have to give thanks and eat fruit so next year's harvest will be bountiful."
"It's okay, really," Mahalia said.
"No, no. If we have a bad harvest, you'll be at fault." He fished in his pockets and pulled out an apple. "This is all I have. I was going to give it to the stray raccoon, but I guess Ebenezer will have to fend for himself tonight."
Mahalia smiled, taking the apple. The boy beamed, certain he had just 'saved' the kingdom's harvest, and ran off.
"It's just one fruit," she remarked.
"Well, you heard the boy—the fate of the kingdom rests on our bellies. We must eat it. Let's share."
Zachary wiped the apple clean, snapped it in half, and handed her a piece.
Mahalia bit into hers—and it was only when she saw Zachary take his own bite that she realized what had happened.
They had just shared fruit on Abunumas.
She didn't know if it was the significance of the act or their conversation that night, but her heart felt light.
And she wished every night could be this way.
---
To be continued