ISLA
The early light seeped into the room, casting soft golden hues over the stone walls. I stirred awake before the sun fully rose, my movements careful not to disturb the King beside me. Her breathing was steady, her form relaxed. She looked so peaceful in sleep, her usual sharpness dulled.
I didn’t linger. Slipping out of bed as quietly as I could, I dressed swiftly, pulling on the simple gown I wore when I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.
There was much to do, and I intended to fill my day as I always did—with work, study, and the monotony that had become my life.
The halls were still when I made my way toward the study. Only a few servants were up, tending to the morning preparations. They greeted me with cautious smiles, their eyes full of something I didn’t want to name—pity, perhaps, or concern.
“Your Majesty, you haven’t had breakfast,” one of them said as I passed.
“I’m not hungry,” I replied, my tone flat. I wasn’t lying. Eating felt like a chore, one more task to add to the endless list of things I couldn’t find the energy for.
The study was quiet, just as I liked it. The familiar smell of parchment and ink welcomed me, and I sat at the desk where stacks of scrolls awaited my attention. The words blurred as I read, but I forced myself to focus, to absorb the information. If I was to be of any use in this role, I had to learn everything.
I told myself I didn’t care anymore. I was a servant elevated to a position I didn’t deserve. The King had made her choice clear through her actions. And me? I was just someone she had taken under her wing—a project, not a partner.
The hours passed, the room dimming as the sun climbed higher. A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Come in,” I said, my voice sharp.
The door opened, and she stepped inside. The scholar.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted, her voice bright and warm, as if she hadn’t noticed the frost in my tone. “I was told you might be here.”
I didn’t look up. “What do you need?”
“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see you.” She walked closer, her footsteps light against the stone floor. “The King mentioned how diligent you’ve been. Always studying, always working.”
I stiffened at the mention of her.
“She speaks of you often, you know,” the scholar continued, her voice casual. “With such fondness. It’s clear how much she values you.”
I didn’t respond, my fingers tightening on the quill in my hand.
“She’s truly remarkable, isn’t she?” the scholar went on, taking a seat across from me without waiting for an invitation. “So strong, so kind. During our time together, she showed me such compassion. Treated me with a respect I’ve never known before. She given me things that I like, she remembers what my needs are.”
I finally looked up, my gaze cold and unfeeling. “Is there a point to this conversation?”
The scholar faltered, her cheerful demeanor dimming slightly. “I just thought... perhaps we could talk. Get to know each other better.”
“I don’t see the need,” I said curtly, returning my attention to the document before me.
There was a pause, and I could feel her watching me, perhaps trying to understand the wall I had built between us.
“Well,” she said finally, her tone softening, “if you ever change your mind, I’m always happy to chat. I’ll leave you to your work, Your Majesty.”
She stood, her departure as quiet as her arrival.
I sat there long after she left, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts I didn’t want to entertain. The things she had said about the King—they echoed in my head like a cruel mockery.
Those were things the King had never did to me. Not even once.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Why had I ever expected anything different?
By the time the day turned to evening, I was drained. The servants came and went, their concerned glances growing more frequent as the hours passed.
“Your Majesty, you haven’t eaten all day,” one of them said, her voice gentle but insistent.
“I’m fine,” I replied, brushing her off as I always did.
The truth was, I didn’t feel anything anymore—not hunger, not fatigue, not even pain. I had learned to numb myself to it all. It was easier that way.
When the night fell, I returned to the chambers I shared with the King. She wasn’t there yet, as had become the norm. I climbed into bed, my body aching from the day’s labor but my mind restless.
As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I wondered if this was all there would ever be. A life of servitude disguised as something more. A love I had dared to hope for, only to realize it was never truly mine.
The door opened, and I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. The King moved through the room with the same quiet efficiency she always did. I heard the splash of water as she bathed, the soft rustle of fabric as she changed.
She climbed into bed beside me, the mattress dipping under her weight. But there was no warmth this time, no arms pulling me close, no whispered words in the dark.
I stared into the emptiness, willing myself not to cry, not to feel. This was the life I had chosen, and I would endure it.
Because that’s what I was meant to do. Endure.
****
The moon hung low in the sky when I decided I couldn’t keep the weight of my thoughts any longer. For days, I had endured the isolation of my mind, the cold detachment that had taken root in my heart. But now, it felt unbearable. I needed answers, or perhaps just someone to listen.
I sought out the King’s father.
The corridor leading to his chambers was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows. My footsteps were hesitant but determined. When I reached the door, I paused, my hand hovering above the wood before I knocked.
“Enter,” came the low, gravelly voice from within.
I pushed the door open, stepping inside. The room smelled faintly of smoke and old parchment. The former king sat at a large desk, his piercing eyes lifting from a document to meet mine.
“Your Majesty,” he said, his tone formal but with a note of curiosity. “What brings you here at this hour?”
I swallowed hard, closing the door behind me. “I... I need to speak with you.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “About?”
I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. But I forced them out. “I want to stop being Queen.”
For the first time, his stoic expression cracked. His eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. “What?”
“I don’t belong here,” I said quickly, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain calm. “I never did. I’m not fit to be a Queen. I’m just... a servant.”
The former king leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His sharp eyes bore into me, searching for something. “What nonsense is this? You’ve been doing more than just fine. The kingdom is thriving under your care.”
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “That’s not because of me. I’m not the one people look to. I’m not strong or wise. I’m not like her.”
His gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “Do you know what I’ve seen since you became Queen? My daughter has changed. She’s not the same angry, cold person she used to be. She’s softened. She’s learned patience. Compassion. I hardly recognize her anymore—and that’s because of you.”
His words hit me like a blow, but I didn’t let them sway me. “She was kind before. Just not to me.”
Silence hung between us for a long moment before he spoke again. “And if you leave, what do you plan to do?”
I had thought about this endlessly. I met his gaze, my voice quiet but resolute. “I’ll go far away. Somewhere no one knows me. I’ll live a quiet life. I’ll raise cattle, goats, and maybe a few roosters. I won’t be a bother to anyone.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse me. But then he sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair.
“You truly believe you’ll be happier that way?”
I nodded.
“And what about my daughter?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat tightened, and I looked away.
He stood, walking around the desk until he was standing before me. His hand came to rest gently on my shoulder. “You’ve made the kingdom better, Isla. More than you know. And you’ve made her better. But I see now that you’ve made up your mind.”
Relief and heartbreak tangled together in my chest as I looked up at him. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded, though his expression was heavy with something I couldn’t name. “Go, then. If this is truly what you want.”
That night, I packed only what I needed. A small satchel with simple clothes, a loaf of bread, and a little coin. I didn’t leave a note. I couldn’t bring myself to put the words on paper.
The halls were eerily quiet as I slipped out of the palace, the weight of what I was leaving behind pressing down on me. The guards at the gate didn’t question me, perhaps instructed by the former king to let me go.
The cool night air hit my face as I stepped beyond the walls. The city was quiet, its streets bathed in moonlight. I walked with purpose, my heart heavy but my resolve unshaken.
This was the only way.
As the palace faded from view, I didn’t allow myself to look back. To do so would mean facing the life I was leaving behind—the love I had found but couldn’t keep.
I would live quietly, I told myself. I would be free.
But as the stars stretched above me and the silence of the road enveloped me, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
****