By the time I woke up, he was already gone. His side of the bed was cold and empty. If not for the tangled sheets, I might've thought he hadn't slept there at all. He buried me with blankets all the way up to my neck, tucking it in just so I'd be at my most comfortable. After all, it wasn't like we fell asleep the moment our backs hit the bed. We certainly made up for lost time with a few more rounds, before I literally passed out from sheer exhaustion.
The memory alone made my core tightened. There was still a faint soreness between my thighs, a stark reminder of what we just did last night, impossible to ignore. I shifted, legs tangling restlessly, chasing a sensation that wasn't there anymore. He was gone. And I hate how much I'm feeling that absence. It was only one night. So why did it feel like my body hadn't gotten the message?
I shove the thought away before it can go any further. My fingers work into my scalp, trying to ease the headache starting to form, when the doors creak open. I sit up straight, clutching the duvet against my naked body, heart lurching with the hope that it might be Vesper, only for it to crash just as quickly. Instead, a familiar, middle-aged woman steps in, trailed by a pair of maidservants. She's dressed in deep red, the unmistakable color of the healers, while the maids behind her wear the green robes I don't particularly recognize.
"His Majesty requested that I come and check up on you, Your Grace." she said, her head still bowed though her eyes remain fixed on me, lips parted as if she was holding her words but she cleared her throat in the end. "These ladies are here to prepare your bath," she said, shooting me a knowing look, "as usual."
"Okay," I answered, noting the way they are still curtsying. "please proceed."
They stood immediately, offering a brief bow before heading into the bathroom, leaving the healer behind. Only after they had gone did she approach the bed, her brown bag in hand. The realization hit me then. The last time I've seen her was during my rescue. She must know something.
I hadn't even realized that my hands have drifted to my lower abdomen, until I caught her eyes looking at them. I move it away, letting it rest on my sides as she readies her supplies. "You can call me Nadine, Your Grace." she said, lifting my duvet, "May I?"
I nod, giving her silent permission to do so. She lifts the duvet all the way up to my thighs, exposing the wounds that should've been raw and deep. Yet somehow, they've already faded into scars. As if they're healing. How did this happen? I'd thought it was just the painkillers last night, dulling everything. I was too afraid to look. It was too dark to see.
"You were treated by the most powerful healer in the land, Your Grace," she explained, noting my surprise as she applied cooling salves on the scars. I watched with fascination as the scars faded away, as if it had submerged underneath my skin. "This is still the least of her powers."
"Nadine, were we close?" I asked, curious. She seemed to know me well enough to offer Vesper something for air sickness.
"Close enough," she said, gently pulling the duvet back over my legs. "Your Grace, could you turn for me, please? I need to tend to your back."
I turned, clutching the duvet against my chest as I offered her my back. She gently rubbed the cooling salve all over the wounds, now nothing more than faint scars. Everything still felt like a blur and if I was to be honest, I still had no plan. Ever since that memory surfaced, it was the only thing that I could think about. It's like there' a weight on my chest, preventing me to move forward. Until I find out what exactly happened after that, and whether I'm still...I doubt I'd be able to focus on anything else.
"You can ask me anything, Your Grace," she said kindly as she worked on my back, chanting a few healing spells. It was like she was singing, the way she uttered those spells. I could feel a sudden, singing heat on my back, making me wince before it cooled away. "We, healers, have taken an oath of silence. What passes between us and our tended would just be between us both."
"Was I ever..." I swallowed hard, trying to push down the fear tightening in my throat. "Was I ever with child?"
"Yes," she said it as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "You've always come to me for contraception, so of course I knew. I was the one who confirmed it."
"What happened? Am I..." Fuck, I can't even get the word out. It's too terrifying to be true.
"No." she shot me a hard look once I turned back around, like a mother reprimanding her daughter. "You've lost it."
"What happened?" I breathed, watching her frown at my question as she packed her things into her ridiculous bag. I hadn't even realized I was on the verge of tears until my vision blurred.
She hesitated, then looked up at me with something unreadable in her eyes. A long breath left her, almost like she didn't want to speak about it at all. But something in my expression must've urged her to do. Because she finally parted her lips to speak.
"For someone who's lost their memories," she began carefully, "it's safer to let your memories come back on their own, Your Grace. Head trauma needs time to properly heal." Though her voice is gentle as she explained, it pulled something raw out of me from within.
"But I know by the way Your Grace is looking at me right now, that you won't rest until you know." A silence stretched between us, her lips tightening wondering if she should say it. But she did. I can see it from the way her lips are parting that more words are forming, "There's an old saying among midwives...that a child won't come into this world knowing that they're not wanted."
I can't speak, can't breathe as my lips parted, then closed again. Blinking once, twice, I try as hard as I can to process the weight of it all but the ache in my chest is already climbing up to my throat, coiling around it, choking me. I didn't know what hurt more. The loss, or the probability that either of us had killed it. But Vesper wouldn't kill his own child, would he? If he claimed to love me...then he wouldn't. Would he? Because no way would I...
"Before you let your mind consume you, Your Grace, I suggest you should head to your bath." she told me, coaxing me out of my thoughts.
I let her lead me out of the bed, let her wrap a towel around my shoulders just so it would hide my nakedness for now. I'm still not comfortable revealing myself around them and I think she sensed it. "I've instructed the maidservants to place lavender and some healing elixirs into your bath."
"Thank you, Nadine." I murmured as we walk into the bathroom. The maidservants are already waiting for me, surrounding the bubbling bath. The air smells like mint from the incense.
Wordlessly I hand the towel to one of them and step into the bath. They immediately lift move around me to help me clean my body, lifting my hair from the water then massaging my scalp, slowly ridding of my headache. I let myself eyes drift to a close, suddenly tired.
An hour or so later, I find myself standing before the full-length mirror in my dressing chamber, staring at my own reflection as one of the maidservants braids my hair. I tilt my head slightly to the side, careful not to disturb her work, mesmerized by the woman gazing back at me. There's a sculpted serenity to her beauty. The pale complexion against the green eyes glowing like moss under a moonlight. With neck and shoulders bare, I've never looked more enchanting. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder if this woman in the mirror is truly me.
She braids my hair, gathering it into a small bun adorned with flowers, loose strands cascading down like a waterfall. My hands hover over the bodice of my lavender dress, embroidered with soft pink blossoms and paired with a skirt that flows to the ground like the petals of a blooming flower. I've never felt more magical, and yet, more false. As if I'm an actress on a stage, playing a role.
"All set, Your Grace." she gushed, the maidservant, gesturing me to turn to see it for myself. "What do you think? This is how you'd usually style it when receiving guests. Though with more jewels, usually."
I face her through the mirror, shaking my head. "No jewels, I want to be as comfortable as possible."
"Are you sure, Your Grace?" she asked, baffled by my request.
"Yes, I'm sure." I turned away, smoothing the fabric of my gown. "This outfit doesn't need any more jewels."
"As you wish, Your Grace." she replied, bowing her head slightly. "I'm glad you like it," she uttered.
"You've done well." I smiled. "Are you the one who usually does my hair?"
"Yes, it's mostly me, ever since King Vesperian brought you to us," she explained.
"'Brought'?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing and curiosity piqued.
She glanced around nervously, her bottom lip quivering as if she had said something she shouldn't have. Odd. She looks so young, no more than 20 I suspect. So I waved it off, feeling sorry for her. "It's okay. If you're not allowed to tell me anything, don't worry about it."
"I'm sorry, Your Grace..." she murmured.
"it's fine," I reassured her. "What's your name?"
"Elira, Your Grace," she replied, her head lowered respectfully. "I was one of the few trusted by Nadine to tend to you, Your Grace. She specifically instructed not to reveal anything, to let your mind heal as naturally as possible."
My thoughts immediately goes back to her words, what she said about children not coming into this world knowing that they are not wanted. But I clear my throat, ridding the thought away before it fester into my mind. This is not the time to think about it.
"Well then, Elira, would you be so kind as to lead me to where I need to go?" I asked, flashing her a smile with kind eyes.
She blink a few times, righting herself before dropping into a deep curtsy. "As you wish, Your Grace."
Moments later, she leads me into a dining room framed by tall windows and double doors that open to a courtyard. Two guards were trailing behind us as soon as we exited my room, stopping only at the threshold to grant us privacy. I try not to let that bother me as I head inside, stomach starting to growl at the sight of breakfast already laid out on the table.
"Good morning, Your Grace." an old man in a suit greeted me. I try not to jump. He literally appeared out of nowhere. "Sorry to scare you, I trust you had a good night's sleep, Your Grace?"
"Yes, thank you." I replied, clearing my throat.
"I'm Arthur, His Majesty's most trusted steward," he said, stepping aside to gesture toward the two tall chairs at the table, already placed next to each other. "Please, have a seat. Breakfast is served, just as His Majesty requested."
I nod and make my way toward the chair facing the courtyard window. I was about to pull it out myself, seeing as Arthur is busy ushering Elira away from the room, when a pair of hands rested gently on top of mine. I try not to jump at the sudden touch, and that shock that shot straight to my core.
"Allow me," Vesper said, appearing as if from thin air.
I step back, letting him pull the chair out for me before settling into the seat. I watch as he move quietly to take his place at the head of the table. He's wearing a loose linen shirt beneath a black jacket trimmed with gold patterns along the collar. His tousled hair looks like it had been swept by the wind from all direction, his skin still flushed. He must've just came in from flying with Vala. And noting the faint dark circles that shadow his eyes, I wonder if he even slept at all.
He picks up his utensils and dig into his food. I followed suit, letting the silence grow between us. I can feel his eyes on me as I chew, focusing on my food.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice causing a flip in my stomach. I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing it again after what happened last night.
"Better," I murmured. "You've disappeared in the morning."
"Would you rather I stay?"
"Did you sleep, at least?" I asked, finally looking up and seeing him sip his coffee.
"A little."
"One of the maids told me this morning that we are expecting guests today?"
"Yes," he replied, frowning. "I didn't mean to spring it out on you like this. You don't have to come, if you don't want to."
"I want to," I replied, shaking my head as Nadine's earlier words haunts my mind. "Maybe being around the others would help me regain my memory."
He sets his utensils down, the soft clink pulling my attention. I glance up, meeting his tired eyes as he frowned. He lifts his coffee and take a slow sip, as if he is bracing himself for whatever he's about to say. Only then did his lips finally part.
"Have you considered not remembering?"
My hands freeze mid-air. I place the utensils on my plate, trying to get ahold of my emotions. I lean back just as a chill crawling down my spine. Completely off guard. Wasn't he the one who urged me to remember? Or have I been this blind all along? Did I misinterpreted his words, his actions? What could have happened in the past, to make him say this?
"I saw the way you changed when the memory hit you," he explained quietly, almost too quiet. His eyes, dark and calculating, sweeps over me like a predator assessing its prey. "You've been through so much, Iris. Maybe this is your chance. A chance to start over."
I feel the heat of rage flooding through my veins, sharp and sudden. The butter knife catches my attention, lying innocently by my hand. It would've been so easy. But I still need him.
So I look bat at him, voice cold with a simmering challenge in the air. "Pray tell, dear husband," I drawled, leaning back in my chair with my arms folding over my chest, "how exactly would you protect me from your people, if I can't even remember who the hell they are?"
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't answer right away. I can't even tell if my statement excites him or angers him, because he looks a little bit of both, with the way he leans forward, his voice betraying a quiet desperation I wasn't prepared for. "I'm thinking we could move. Somewhere quieter. Away from all...this."
The weight of his suggestion crashes into me so hard, it steals my breath, stunning me to silence. Anger flares within me, hot and blistering that he'd have the audacity even suggest such a thing. I haven't even begun to explore what 'this' is. I may have lost my memories, but I'm not stupid. He's the King, he has responsibilities. He has a throne, a kingdom and duties that should keep him here. I'm not naive enough to believe that he could just pack up and leave. No. He's deliberately trying to hide me. But from what?
"Are you hiding me?" I spilled, the words cutting through the air like a blade. Heart pounding in my chest. "What? Do you think because I was kidnapped and nearly died, that I wouldn't survive your Court?"
He flinches, but his expression hardens, a veil of control slipping over him. "It's not that, Iris," he said, his voice tight though there's a tremor underneath. "I only want to spare you from the heartache that would follow, if you do get your memory back."
For the second time in a day or so, I push my chair back, no longer filled with the appetite to swallow another bite as I rise to my feet. With my hands clasped neatly in front of me, I dip into a curtsy even though I'm not entirely sure if the spouse of a king is expected to do so. Regardless, I do it anyway. Out of spite.
"Well then," I say, keeping my voice light and cool, "if you'll excuse me, I'd also like to spare myself from this conversation."
"Iris," he called out, his voice low, tight with frustration just as I was about to exit the dining room.
I froze, spine straightening and turned slowly. "What?"
He stared at me, face blank, but his dark eyes gave him away. They burned. And then he stood, deliberate and slow, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "I'm sorry if I offended you."
If he's trying to scare me, it's not working. I let out a bitter laugh. "Seriously? After you fucked me like I meant something, then vanished before dawn?"
He was crossing the distance between us, but I met him halfway in three hard steps. Fists clenched, I relished in the blood roaring in my ears, letting it fuel me. "You think that apology covers locking me away like some dirty secret while you rule the kingdom yourself? Or is it easier to fuck some whore when no one knows where you've stashed your wife?"
"Watch your words, wife." he bit out, his finger pointing at me, between us.
"Or what?" I challenged, my voice low and steady.
"Or I'll remind you what it's like to be fucked like a whore," he growled, his hand shot out, gripping my throat hard as he yanked me closer.
His fingers tightened right when we're a breath away, our bodies pressed against each other as he cuts off just enough air that dark spots began to bloom at the edges of my vision. I clenched my jaw, biting my bottom lip hard, drawing blood just to smother the moan clawing its way up my throat. There is rage and something else, warring within me.
"Well?" I gasped, the words scraping out through the pressure in my throat. "Are you?"
I watched, almost breathless as war broke out behind his eyes. His jaw clenched, nostrils flared and for a moment I wasn't sure which side of him would win. He pressed his head against mine, as if he needed the touch more than I do. Frustration passed between us, so raw, it silenced us both. By then, I already knew that the softer, more human part of him had prevailed.
The guilt is starting to replace the rage that had been pumping through my veins. I shouldn't have provoked him like that, shouldn't have said all those hurtful things. But how could I not, when he seemed to be wrenching it out of me? There's this part of me, the one that's dark and aching for blood, that calls for him. That part of me had been rooting for that side of him to win, the one that didn't care what was right, the one without morals. That side of him would've taken me anyway, precautions be damned.
Vesper's grip on me was loosening as I try not to show my disappointment. He was fingers his touch away from my skin, like he didn't want to let go but had no choice. Like a fool, I just stood there in silence as he turned away and walked out, leaving the air colder in his absence. My eyes remained fixed on the courtyard beyond the windows, despite how much my feet wanted to run after him to tell him that I didn't mean any of it all. Had I truly gone too far? Why did I say that?
"Your Grace," someone called me from behind. I turned to see Arthur, his head bowed in a brief show of respect before he looked up again. "His Majesty has asked me to show you around the castle."
"He did?" I asked, failing to hide my surprise.
"Yes. And that you're to join him and the others for a picnic later, for lunch." he added, his face unreadable.
"Okay."
He stepped aside, gesturing towards the exit where my husband had just gone. "After you, Your Grace," he said, extending his hand with another bow of his head.
Why does this small win not feel like one?