Queen Sized

But surely he is not thinking to purchase one from the auction.

Tightness creeps into the back of my neck and I begin to rise from my seat, determined to solve the mystery, when two young girls begin a loud conversation just behind me.

“Gwen is going to smash them all,” says one. “Just you watch.”

A sniffle, followed by a sob. “But I don’t want her to marry one of this smelly lot, Viola. Why can’t it just stay the three of us?”

“Because we had bad luck with the crops,” explains the first one, patiently. “Now we have to join someone’s coin with our own, so we don’t have to sell the farm.”

“Can’t we just get jobs?” says the girl who is obviously younger.

“I suggested that, but Gwen wants us in school, Sadie. So we don’t have to depend on anyone but ourselves when we’re older, she says.”

A long sigh. “I love Gwen.”

I clear my throat several times but can’t seem to rid myself of the lump.

When I asked—or demanded, rather—that Gwen become my mistress, I didn’t really take her sisters into account. What of them? Would their judgment of Gwen change if she takes the position I’m offering her? What will they think of me?

I force some steel into my spine and sit up straighter in the throne.

These are not problems for a king.

I have combative forces to contend with. Power-hungry enemies. Crops of my own. An army to build. Kingdom walls to reinforce. I have no time for these worries.

Two dirty faces peer past the arm of my throne and I immediately see the girls’ resemblances to Gwen—the same stubbornly set chin and black hair—and something odd moves in my chest.

Again, I clear my throat, but it remains crowded. “Can you see from there?” I ask the children. “Or would you care to stand in front of me for a better view.”

The little one looks petrified, staring up at me, utterly frozen.

The older one nudges her sister, though, getting her moving. “Yes, please. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“He’s feckin’ huge, isn’t he?” whispers the younger one. “Jesus Christ.”

“Watch your mouth,” hisses the older sister, Viola, face turning red. “Where on earth did you hear those words?”

“From the men over there.” The poor thing sounds woeful. “One of them is going to be living in our feckin’ house, so we should get used to it now.”

The bigger sister smacks her hands over her face. “Language, Sadie!”

I have the oddest urge to laugh.

God, they are kind of charming, aren’t they?

They settle cross-legged onto the ground in front of me and I find myself scowling at anyone who gets too close, lest they accidentally step on one of the tiny girls. A moment later, someone happens by peddling sweets and I signal for two, pointing at Gwen’s sisters. When the man hands over the chocolate pops, I experience a certain satisfaction watching their eyes grow round as saucers, faces breaking into smiles.

When Gwen comes to live with me, they will come, too, of course.

What young girls wouldn’t be thrilled to live in a castle?

I nod with confidence I don’t necessarily feel and settle back into my throne.

For some reason, I can’t seem to relax, though. Some unnamed dread is needling me in the back and all too soon, the competition is beginning. It’s almost more than I can fucking stand, watching this woman I seek to spoil beyond her wildest dreams with a board balanced across her shoulders, two buckets of water dangling on either side of her. She takes an easy lead, speed walking calmly up the hill while others fall by the wayside. Her chin is up, eyes ahead. Graceful as hell. Almost like…

Like a queen.

There’s no denying it. She is regal. Even in the face of these men shouting and cheering, she does not lose her composure. Doesn’t even break sweat. She is easily going to win…

But then I see her lose focus.

Her step slows and she turns back, noticing the fair-haired woman is about to give up. She does not have the strength to get the buckets up the hill, her reed-thin frame shaking under the weight. I know what Gwen is going to do before she even does it.

The crowd quiets as Gwen retraces her steps back down the hill.

She exchanges a few words with the woman who she is meant to be competing against. Then she dips her knees and hooks one side of her apparatus beneath the woman’s, thus transferring the bulk of the weight to her own shoulders. And they continue on, the fair-haired woman gasping in relief at her newfound lightness.

It takes me a moment to realize I’m standing.

My muscles coil and shudder with the need to go help Gwen, because the added weight is obviously not easy for her. She stumbles a little and my heart almost throws itself out of my chest, but she rights herself and keeps going, twice as determined than before.