ISLA
I woke up to the soft hum of birds outside the window and the faint warmth of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. My body ached faintly, and for a moment, I lay there, unmoving, relishing the peace of waking up in a soft bed instead of the hard cot I’d known most of my life. The events of the past days felt surreal—like a story I’d overheard in the market and not my own life.
I turned over, expecting the bed beside me to be empty. Surely, the king—no, my wife—would already be about her duties, commanding armies or meeting with advisors. But as I moved, my breath caught in my throat.
She was there.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, her back straight and regal, wearing a simple tunic and trousers that somehow made her look even more imposing than her armor. She wasn’t looking out the window or lost in thought; she was looking at me. Her sharp, piercing eyes followed every flicker of movement, as if she’d been waiting for me to wake.
The sight of her so close made my chest tighten. “Y-Your Majesty,” I stammered, quickly sitting up and pulling the covers around me as though they could shield me from her gaze.
She tilted her head, one dark brow arching. “Why do you always wake with such panic?” Her voice was softer than usual, but it carried that same weight that made my stomach churn with nerves.
“I… I didn’t expect you to still be here,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but not with anger. If anything, she seemed curious. “And why wouldn’t I be? I have no urgent matters today.” She paused, her gaze flicking over me. “Do I frighten you so much, Isla? Or am I so sore in the eye that you can’t bear to look at me?”
Her words hit like a blow, and I froze, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. “No!” I blurted, louder than I intended. My cheeks burned as I stumbled over my words. “I—You’re not—It’s not that at all.”
Her lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought she might laugh, but she didn’t. She leaned closer, her sharp features softening in the morning light. “Then what is it?”
I stared at her, and for once, I couldn’t look away. She was… breathtaking. Not in the delicate way that most people might think of beauty. No, she was all sharp edges and strength, her jawline firm, her cheekbones high, her skin flawless save for the faint scars that told stories I couldn’t begin to imagine. Her dark hair was loose today, framing her face in a way that made her seem almost… softer.
But her eyes…
They were the color of molten gold, warm and consuming, like the sun itself. I felt like I was being burned alive under her gaze, yet I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“You’re beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself, the words slipping out in a whisper.
Her brows lifted in surprise, and I immediately wanted to crawl under the covers and disappear. “What did you say?”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I tried to find the courage to repeat myself. “I said… you’re beautiful.” My voice was trembling now, and I felt ridiculous, but I pressed on. “Your eyes… they’re like the sun.”
The words hung in the air between us, and I braced myself for her to mock me, to laugh at my foolishness. But she didn’t.
Instead, her gaze softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something vulnerable flicker in her expression. “The sun?” she echoed, her tone thoughtful.
I nodded quickly, my hands clutching the blanket like a lifeline. “Yes. They’re… warm and bright, but… but also intense. Like they could burn you if you got too close.”
She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me, her eyes searching mine as if she were trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind my words. Then, to my astonishment, she smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of her lips, but it was there.
“You’re an odd one, Isla,” she said, leaning back slightly but keeping her gaze locked on me. “No one’s ever spoken to me like that before.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.
For a long moment, we sat there in silence. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like the weight of her gaze was pinning me to the bed. But there was something else too, something I couldn’t quite name—a warmth that spread through my chest, chasing away the anxiety that always seemed to cling to me in her presence.
“You’re different when you sleep,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
I blinked, startled by the comment. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t look so… small,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “When you’re awake, you curl into yourself, like you’re trying to disappear. But when you sleep…” She paused, her gaze softening. “You look… free.”
The words hit me harder than they should have, and I didn’t know why. I looked away, my hands tightening around the blanket. “I guess it’s easier to feel free when no one’s watching,” I said softly.
Her smile faded, replaced by a look I couldn’t quite read. For a moment, I thought she might say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. The touch was so gentle, so unexpected, that I froze.
“You don’t have to be so afraid of me, Isla,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I chose you for a reason.”
I looked up at her, my heart pounding in my chest. “I… I don’t understand why,” I admitted.
Her hand lingered for a moment before she pulled back, her expression unreadable. “Perhaps one day, you will.”
And with that, she stood, her movements graceful and commanding as always. “Get dressed,” she said, her tone returning to its usual firmness. “We have a long day ahead of us.”
I nodded quickly, watching as she left the room, her presence lingering even after she was gone. As I got up to prepare for the day, I couldn’t shake the memory of her touch, her words, her eyes.
And for the first time, I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I could find my place here after all.
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