ISLA
The palace was quieter than usual, the hum of servants and guards subdued in the king’s absence. I took the opportunity to slip away, my destination clear. The library had been mentioned in passing once, and though I had no idea how to navigate its labyrinthine corridors, I was determined to find it.
When I finally arrived, I hesitated for a moment before pushing the heavy double doors open. The scent of aged parchment and leather bindings washed over me like a wave. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched toward the high vaulted ceiling, sunlight filtering through stained glass windows and casting colorful patterns on the polished stone floor.
I stood there for a moment, awestruck. Back at the estate where I once served, there had been books, yes, but nothing like this. This was a treasure trove of knowledge—a world waiting to be explored.
As I stepped inside, my footsteps echoed softly, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the space. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books, marveling at the variety of topics. Histories of the kingdom, treaties from decades past, philosophies, and even books on agriculture and medicine.
I selected a few volumes at random, carrying them to a nearby desk where a solitary candle sat waiting to be lit. Settling into the chair, I opened the first book—a treatise on governance and diplomacy.
The text was dense, but I was thankful that I had learned to read during my years as a servant. My former master, though cruel in many ways, had insisted that all his household staff be literate. It was a skill I had taken for granted, but now, it felt like a gift.
I read slowly, absorbing as much as I could. The book spoke of the delicate balance required to maintain peace, the importance of listening to the voices of the people while also making decisions with authority. The king’s words from our ride came back to me: “Empathy is strength.”
As I turned the pages, I jotted notes on a piece of parchment I’d found on the desk. Ideas swirled in my mind—ways to help the poor, to make the kingdom more prosperous for everyone, not just the nobles.
The next book was a history of the kingdom, detailing the struggles of past rulers. I learned about the wars fought to unify the lands, the sacrifices made to maintain peace, and the laws that had shaped the kingdom into what it was today.
One law, in particular, caught my attention: the requirement for a king to have a partner. It struck me as both archaic and poignant, a reflection of the pressures the crown faced. Was that why the king had chosen me? To fulfill an obligation? Or was it something more?
The thought made my cheeks warm, and I shook my head, focusing on the text.
Time passed unnoticed as I delved deeper into the books, losing myself in their words. I read about trade agreements, the management of resources, and even the art of negotiation. Each book seemed to hold a piece of the puzzle, and I was determined to put it all together.
But the hours of concentration began to take their toll. My eyelids grew heavy, and my notes became less coherent. Before I knew it, I had drifted off, my head resting on my folded arms atop the desk.
When I woke, the world was different. The flickering light of a candle illuminated the room, and I realized I was no longer in the library.
I blinked, disoriented, as my eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the lamps in the king’s chamber. I was lying on the large, plush bed, the one I had grown accustomed to sharing.
Had I...?
“You’re awake,” came a familiar voice.
I turned my head and saw her—my king—sitting in a chair beside the bed. Her legs were crossed, her posture relaxed, but her eyes were sharp and focused on me. She was wearing simple clothes, a tunic and trousers that made her seem less intimidating but no less regal.
“I...” My voice came out groggy, and I cleared my throat. “I must have fallen asleep in the library.”
“You did,” she said, her tone calm. “I found you there, surrounded by books and scribbles. It seems my queen is more studious than I expected.”
Her words made my cheeks flush. “I thought... I should learn. If I am to be queen, I need to understand the ways of ruling. I can’t just... stand beside you without contributing.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “And yet, you pushed yourself to exhaustion.”
I sat up slowly, the blankets falling away. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” she said simply. “But you don’t need to do this alone. That’s why you have me.”
Her words held a quiet assurance that made my chest tighten. She stood, walking over to the edge of the bed and looking down at me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her presence filled the room, commanding yet comforting.
“Thank you,” I murmured, unsure what else to say.
Her brow arched. “For what?”
“For... carrying me back here.”
“It was nothing,” she said dismissively, though there was a softness in her tone that belied her words. “You looked peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned away, walking toward the window. She looked out at the night sky, her silhouette framed by the soft moonlight.
“You’re doing well,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Better than you think.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. The compliment felt undeserved, but the sincerity in her tone made it impossible to dismiss.
“I just... want to be useful,” I admitted.
“You are,” she said, turning back to face me. “More than you know.”
Her words settled over me like a warm blanket, easing the anxiety that had been gnawing at my chest since the coronation. For the first time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I could do this.
****