ISLA
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the library, casting long beams of light onto the polished floor. I sat at the same desk I had claimed as my own, surrounded by an ever-growing pile of books and parchment. The scent of ink and aged leather filled the air, and the faint sound of birdsong drifted in through the open windows.
Today, I was determined to make progress. Governance, law, diplomacy—they were vast topics, but I couldn’t allow myself to falter. The weight of my new title as queen pressed on me, heavy and unyielding. If I didn’t rise to the occasion, I would fail not just the king but the entire kingdom.
The library was silent save for the occasional rustle of pages as I turned them. I had been so engrossed in a book about agricultural reforms that I didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching behind me.
“You’re quite dedicated,” came a voice, low and rich, startling me so much that I nearly knocked over my inkpot.
I twisted around in my chair to find the king standing behind me, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She was dressed simply again, a fitted tunic and trousers that seemed to emphasize her commanding presence. Her golden eyes gleamed with something between amusement and curiosity as she looked down at me.
“My—your Majesty,” I stammered, scrambling to stand, but she placed a firm hand on my shoulder, keeping me seated.
“Stay,” she said, her tone soft but brooking no argument. “You look like a frightened rabbit whenever I appear. Have I done something to deserve such fear?”
I swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “No, my King. I just wasn’t expecting you.”
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze piercing. “And why not? This is my palace, is it not?”
“Yes, of course.” My words tumbled out too quickly.
She chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Relax, Isla. I’m not here to scold you. I’ve decided to forgo my duties for the day. They can wait.”
“You’re not attending court?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
She shook her head. “No. Today, I’m here to teach you.”
I blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “Teach me?”
“Yes,” she said simply, stepping around to sit in the chair beside me. She reached for the book I had been studying, flipping through its pages with practiced ease. “If you’re going to rule beside me, you’ll need more than just book knowledge. I’ll show you what truly matters.”
Her proximity made my heart race. The warmth of her presence was almost tangible, and the way her golden eyes scanned the text with such focus was mesmerizing.
“What were you reading?” she asked, not looking up.
“Crop rotations and land taxes,” I managed to say.
She glanced at me, a faint smile playing on her lips. “An important topic. But tell me, Isla, what would you prioritize—ensuring a steady food supply or collecting enough taxes to fund the kingdom?”
I hesitated, my mind racing. “If... if the people don’t have enough food, they’ll starve. So I would prioritize the food supply.”
“And how would you fund the kingdom without taxes?”
I fumbled for an answer, feeling suddenly very small under her intense gaze. “Perhaps... a compromise? Lower the taxes temporarily until the harvest improves?”
The king leaned back in her chair, her smile widening just a fraction. “Not a bad answer.”
Her praise sent a rush of warmth through me, but I quickly looked down at my hands, afraid of letting my emotions show.
“Let’s continue,” she said, setting the book aside. She began explaining the intricacies of balancing royal finances, her voice steady and confident. I listened intently, scribbling notes as she spoke. Her knowledge was vast, and I couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly she seemed to command every subject.
But it wasn’t just her words that held my attention. It was the way she looked at me—steadily, unblinkingly, as though I were the most important person in the room. Her golden eyes seemed to pierce straight through me, leaving me flustered and self-conscious.
At one point, I glanced up from my notes and found her staring at me, her chin resting on her hand.
“Is something wrong, my King?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Not at all,” she said, her lips curving into a slight smile. “I’m merely observing. You’re quite fascinating when you’re focused.”
Her words made my cheeks burn, and I quickly ducked my head, pretending to concentrate on my writing.
The hours slipped by as we worked together. The king’s presence was both intimidating and oddly comforting, her voice guiding me through topics I had barely begun to grasp. And though I was flustered by her nearness, I found myself relaxing under her patient instruction.
At one point, I caught myself watching her instead of the text in front of me. The way her golden hair caught the sunlight, the sharp angles of her jaw, the quiet intensity in her eyes—it was impossible not to notice her beauty. But it was more than that. There was a strength in her, a quiet confidence that made it easy to believe she could carry the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders.
“Isla,” she said suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, my King?”
“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed, leaning closer. “Are you tired?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, I was just... thinking.”
Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “About what?”
“About... the kingdom,” I lied, hoping she wouldn’t press further.
“Hmm,” she said, clearly unconvinced. But she didn’t push me. Instead, she reached for another book and opened it, her voice resuming its steady rhythm as she continued the lesson.
By the time the sun began to set, my mind was buzzing with information. I closed the last book with a satisfied sigh, feeling both exhausted and accomplished.
“You’ve done well,” the king said, standing and stretching. “We’ll continue another time.”
“Thank you, my King,” I said, rising to my feet.
As she walked to the door, she paused and looked back at me. “And Isla?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” she said, her tone softer than I had ever heard it. “You’re my queen. That means you’re my equal, whether you believe it or not.”
Her words left me speechless, and she left the library without another word, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
****