QUIET BEATS

I am not a queen because I rule, I rule because I am THE QUEEN.

Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…

***************

The French windows were veiled in flowing white curtains, catching the glow of dusk.

A lavish bed stood proud beside an ornate vanity with other noble furnishings- an armoire, a desk, a chaise longue- each in their rightful place, restored to grace. The room pulsed with warmth and vibrancy.

‘‘I do hope I haven’t made you penniless,’’ she teased with a delicate smile.

He laughed lightly. ‘‘You could commission an entire palace for yourself and your ladies-in-waiting, fill it with silks and gold. And I’d hardly notice.’’

She rolled her eyes. ‘‘Oh, the vanity.’’ Then her expression shifted. ‘‘Wait… can I truly have one?’’ her eyes sparkled.

‘And of course, she still wants to leave.’ he thought.

His grin vanished and he stepped close.

He took her hand and she tried to pull away.

‘‘You just apologized and I haven’t even decided if I forgive you.’’

He leaned in.

‘‘You’ve yet to fulfill our pact. The day isn’t over, so come- receive your punishment.’’

She sighed but followed, quickening her pace to keep up. He led her swiftly down the grand stairs and into the dining hall once more, their hands still together.

‘‘Wait here,’’ he said vanishing briefly.

He returned with a thick hemp rope and a goblet of wine. She narrowed her eyes.

‘‘Is this some bizarre ritual? Am I to be sacrificed?’’

He gave no answer.

To her astonishment, Zorgan climbed atop the table and lay down.

She walked its length and stood beside his head. ‘‘By the Heavens- will you just explain before I return to my chambers? I’d rather be alone than endure more of your nonsense.’’

Zorgan lifted his gaze to the vaulted ceiling above.

‘‘Seal your lips, listen to what I have to say, and do as I say.

This is what I will for our pact.’’

Arms crossed like a shield, Nadezhda studied him wondering what strange wind had stirred his spirit this time. She decided to hold her tongue, willing to follow the thread of whatever path he was weaving, before judgement would find her voice.

‘‘Fetch the rope and bind me’’ he directed.

She scoffed but did as asked, retrieving the rope and beginning his want. She tossed it over his body, slipped beneath the table, emerged on the other side, and pulled it tight until the knots held.

By the time she finished, Zorgan’s eyes were closed, his breath steady. She stood there for a moment, staring at him- tempted, sorely tempted, to remind him that she was the one who had broken their pact.

‘‘I’m done,’’ she muttered, brushing dust from her sleeves.

‘‘Bring the goblet. Place it over my head,’’

She complied, holding the goblet steadily, careful not to let a drop spill on her skin, even though its content was far from the brim.

‘‘Remember- you are not to speak,’’ he reminded as he opened his eyes. She nodded once, hiding her sigh. This was strange, even for him- and she was already weary of its requirements.

‘‘I desire that you drink the wine in the goblet,’’ he said calmly.

Nadezhda recoiled slightly, pushing back from the table.

‘‘Wh- what?

No. I’m not in the mood for wine,’’ she said quickly, the pupils of her eyes contracting as her skin became alight with the touch of a thousand unseen fingers.

‘‘And how exactly is that a punishment?

Choose something else you frustrating, per- perplexing being!’’ she launched a retort as she wiped her palms on her robe, trying to shake off the nerves.

‘Does he know?

Does he know I’ve sworn off wine? If he does, then surely this is torment crafted just for me. Heavens deliver me!’ Nadezhda thought.

She regarded the goblet as if it were filled with vipers, poised to strike the moment it neared her lips.

Today was seared into her memory already- there’d be no forgetting it soon.

Her inner musings ceased as Zorgan began speaking again.

‘‘I’ve noticed- since my return- you no longer touch wine.

You barely glance at it, as if even by mistake you refuse it. I’m even proud of you for placing it above my head.

I know you push it away because of what happened with the royals of this Kingdom.

Retribution doesn’t always come as we wish, but we shouldn’t let certain things steal the things we love.

You love wine, Rebel, and in many ways, it’s the reason we’re even here under this roof. While restraint is wise, I feel like I’ve broken our agreement every time I watch you shrink from it at dinner.

So now I’ve laid myself on this table- just as you once were laid. The rope binding me symbolizes your weakness at that moment, your helplessness.

I offer myself as a mirror of those who broke you, who made you doubt your worth. Their blood runs through my veins and we share more than I’d like to admit.

If you think I can’t be trusted- there’s a blade in my left boot.

Before I can act, pull it out and drive it through my heart. But drink above my head.

Reclaim your power. Never let anyone take from you the things you love- not them, not even me.’’

He finally looked in her direction, eyes steady, bracing for the judgement of her grey orbs.

She stared at him, unmoving, and to his utter disbelief, tears spilled from her eyes.

He instinctively tried to sit up, but the rope held him firmly in place.

‘‘Nadezhda… did I-? I only meant to- Forgive me, I-‘’

She cut him off, her voice raw and cracking through the tears.

‘‘You... you’re the worst man I’ve laid eyes on-‘’

For a moment, he didn’t understand. Then it hit him.

Her eyes weren’t condemning him now. There was no judgement- only sorrow finding expression outward. He let out a quiet breath and smiled- a sad, tender smile.

Those were the same words she had hurled at him, the morning she woke up on his bed in the Southern Castle for Royals, a moment before he told her they were to get married.

As her words faltered, he gently finished the line: ‘‘-And my eyes have seen many.’’

She nodded slowly, wordless but understood. Then she dropped to a crouch, head bowed, overwhelmed. It was a rare thing- allowing someone to witness her tears. And yet, here she was, unshielded.

She hoped he understood- now she hadn’t meant to call him the worst man she had ever seen. She was simply overwhelmed, consumed by the storm of emotions that had gathered so suddenly, that he had powerfully evoked- despite being bound.

She was taken by the sharp surprise of being seen, that he had looked long enough to notice… to notice her.

And this- this strange, gentle punishment- was the purest she had ever endured. It demanded not revenge, but victory over herself. A surrender of fear, of shame, of the clouded veil that had hovered over her spirit for far too long.

And he had been right. So beautifully, unmistakably right. And she didn’t know what to do with this man who had entered her life uninvited, boldly declaring himself her husband.

Tears slipping from her eyes, she stood.

She wiped her face, though they kept falling, defiant and alive. Without a word, she reached for the goblet she had placed above his bound form. His smile remained quiet and waiting as she stepped back and raised it to her lips.

The aroma of berries hit her nostrils, the wine touched her tongue- and the past rushed like a storm tide.

The first time she had wine, a girl forgotten in her own home, cloaked in the silence that still followed many cycles after her mother’s death. She had crept into one of her half-brother’s chambers and stolen his wine, hoping to draw some attention, hoping for someone to notice…

No one had.

She had drank in tears, alone, in her mother’s empty room.

Later at that terrible table in Valcresh’s Palace, she had asked, ‘‘Which was it- food or wine?’’

The wine, they had said. It had been the wine.

Because they knew she wouldn’t refuse it, because she was foolish enough to think she could have a family that could truly care about her.

She had tried to flee, to cry out, but what was in the wine had bound her truth to her tongue, stripping even her will.

At that moment, she had lost herself- the final thing she had owned.

But not now- now she drank. Gulp after gulp, tears streaming, her body trembling, but her will holding firm.

When the goblet was empty, she lifted it high- like a quiet declaration of triumph. Then she lowered it, and an ungraceful belch escaped her lips.

Zorgan laughed, joy glinting in his eyes.

‘‘I don’t care whose blood flows in your veins,’’ she said, voice steadying.

His laughter faded.

‘‘They aren’t you. And you aren’t them. I know this- I feel this. And that’s why I couldn’t drink above your head.’’

She bowed low. ‘‘Thank you Zorgan. I will never forget today.’’

Something stirred in him- alive, fierce, joyful.

She reached for the blade in his boot. His breath caught as she brought it to his chest- but instead of striking, she cut his bindings.

‘‘Thanks again. I’ll retire to my chamber now.’’

She turned and for the second time that night, fled to the stairs. He followed at a slower pace, lingering in the moment.

At their doors, they paused. He glanced at her. She smiled.

He smiled back.

Then, she ran to him.

He turned just in time to catch her as she leapt into his arms, her embrace fierce and sudden, her hands curling behind his neck, pulling him down to her. He wrapped his arms around her, folding her into him as if she were the last warmth in the world.

‘‘Heavens bless you, Zorgan,’’ she whispered against his skin, new tears soaking into his shoulder.

Emotion bloomed inside him- wild, unspoken, tender.

He had only wanted her to resume taking wine at dinner, and truthfully, a part of him felt heavily guilty. But no more.

He had braced for resistance, even a deeper hatred than what he felt she had for him.

Instead, she had given him…everything.

When at last she pulled back, still sniffling, she said, ‘‘If you speak of this tomorrow, I’ll tell the world you’ve finally lost your mind.’’

He laughed softly.

She turned, eyes avoiding his, and jogged back to her room and Zorgan was beginning to regret having her room fixed so quickly.

That night, as they lay on opposite sides of the corridor, beneath the same roof and the same stars, their hearts beat quietly- in tandem, like two verses of the same song.