STRANGE DISCOVERY LEADING TO STRANGER QUESTIONS

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

Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…

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

As the guard outside Princess Nadezhda’s chamber announced the arrival of the physician, Prince Commander Zorgan rapped once- sharp and swift- upon the door before pushing it open without ceremony.

Nadezhda looked up at once, startled by the intrusion.

Her chambermaids who had been seated on her bed, sprang to their feet, heads bowed in silent deference.

Behind him, the physician entered more cautiously, his steps uncertain, his eyes flicking between the prince and the royal he was meant to attend.

Before Nadezhda could rise, Zorgan crossed the room in long, determined strides.

“Prince Commander Zorgan,’’ she began, her voice edged with rebuke, “this is hardly the manner in which one enters a lady’s cham-”

Her voice faltered when he took her chin in his hand.

His fingers were firm, yet not unkind. He peered into her eyes as though searching for something hidden just beneath the surface of her skin. His eyes, mostly sharp with command, now brimmed with a quiet storm of concern.

“Eyes on me,’’ he said, his voice hoarse with urgency.

“Are you unwell?

Tell me what ails you.

When did it begin?

What do you require?’’

She attempted to pull back, but his other hand moved to her brow, testing for fever with the practiced urgency of a man used to battlefield wounds- but this was not war. This was her chamber, her sanctuary and he had crossed its threshold with all the gentleness of a storm.

‘‘What in all heavens are you doing?’’ she demanded, more breath than voice. ‘‘This is akin to madness.’’

Trying to rise- to regain her height, a semblance of dignity- she was quickly guided back down by a firm hand to her shoulder, careful not to cause strain.

Then he turned, pointing at the physician who remained rooted to the threshold.

‘‘You requested a physician, and I will not leave this room until I know what ails you.’’

With that, he crossed the room and seated himself upon the chaise, legs spreading carelessly, posture bold and unbothered as though he were holding court in her private sanctuary.

Nadezhda stood, incensed words rising sharply to her tongue- until her thoughts caught up with his words and actions.

‘He saw the physician and assumed I was ill. He barged in like a tempest because he’s… Worried?!’

Her gaze flicked to the way he lounged, utterly unbothered by propriety and her cheeks flushed a bright, betraying red.

But, everyone interpreted it to be a sign of an incoming eruption from her.

‘Look at him- sitting like he owns the room, as if I had invited him to stay.’

She cleared her throat, collecting the remnants of her pride. Her voice, when it came, was quieter, more measured.

‘‘It is a private matter of feminine nature, Prince Commander. Not something for your concern.

You are dressed for command; no doubt the realm requires your attention. I thank you for your… unexpected presence. But I assure you, I am not in peril.

You should go.’’

Zorgan rose from the chaise after a breath’s pause, all eyes on him. He glided toward her with that quiet, terrible grace. His body radiated heat- oppressive, intimate- and though he did not touch her, it wrapped around her like a snare.

His voice coiled at her ear, low and silken.

‘‘I don’t believe you, Rebel. We both know your tongue just weaved a lie.

But since you asked so sweetly, I’ll take my leave- for now.

Upon my return, I expect the truth- whatever tale you spin for the physician, I’ll love to hear it.’’

Nadezhda’s spine locked. His closeness stirred a memory of him- drunken and bloodied from Valcresh, pinning her on his bed, breathing in her scent, and murmuring that she smelled of oakmoss.

She loathed the yearning that bloomed inside her. Wanted that moment again, now. Hated herself for it.

She tried to step back but Zorgan’s hands came on her arms- not forceful, but firm, a silent warning.

He wouldn’t let the world see him refer to his wife as a liar, even though she had promised she was always honest.

Her breath caught as his lips ghosted the curve of her ear.

‘‘I’d hate to have to call him back and pull the truth from his bones.

He doesn’t look particularly resilient.’’

From the corner of her eye, she saw the physician trembling, praying for the day’s end.

Zorgan pulled back, catching the steel of her storm-grey judgemental gaze.

He smiled a devil’s grin and offered a lazy salute before turning on his heel and vanishing through the doorway.

Her breath returned with his absence.

She offered a smile, brittle but bright enough to mend the fraying edges of the moment. ‘‘Shall we begin?’’ she said, nodding to the physician. He looked unsure but obedient.

She took a walk with him to the garden, certain that even whispers would vanish into leaves, and offered him some tea and sugared pastries, which he accepted.

Not long after, she had unburdened the truth for her summons, and he stared at her in silence as though her words had tugged at something beyond his training.

“My heart,’’ she said softly, “has become unruly and pulses like it has been possessed.

At times, it stammers and races without rhythm; some days, it flutters like wings trapped in a cage, then proceeds to gallop like a wild beast inside me.’’

She turned to face him. ‘‘The strangest part of this recent happening is that it never happens with others.

People like you who seem calm, rational, unremarkable, and not even with those I truly loathe.’’

Her eyes flickered.

“But it does with only one particular infuriating soul.”

She crossed her arms, staring at him keenly, prepared to hear the words of wisdom that would guide her out of this circumstance.

‘‘So, tell me Physician- what remedy is there for a heart that betrays its own keeper?

What must I do to reclaim my own rhythm?’’