At His Majesty's Pleasure Ch. 07

It was only near dusk that the King came upon her, easing down into an adjacent bench. He looked pleasant enough, for a man who had just yesterday escaped an assassination attempt and whose wife had fallen feverishly sick in the same night.

A tray of (more) tea had been placed on the wooden table before them, and he took his time in pouring a cup for her. "You look better," he said, his voice taking on the solicitous cadence from before.

He passed her the warm cup. "The note was a nice touch," he added, and had the good grace (currently) to sound humorous about it, in an almost self-deprecating manner. "I'm glad the hounds were spared another needless hunt. Though they probably resent you for denying them the exercise."

Absorbed in her thoughts, Alais hadn't turned to look upon him as he sat down besides her. While she quietly accepted the cup, at first it did seem as though her vacant demeanor was just the same as the day before yesterday: unresponsive, distant, dazed. But she was listening to him, this time. He must have had a very good day, to have resumed his charming mode.

The King paused, watching her. "Do you need anything? I mean it, Alais. I would like you to be comfortable. As much as possible, anyway." He laughed quietly, clasping his hands. "I can even send for some parchment, if you're still abiding by that vow of silence."

Her husband seemed to have a knack for bouncing back and forth between wanting her to be comfortable and being contented with delivering her pain. On one day it would be kindness and on the next, cruelty. Was it because of her aid during the assassination attempt that he had turned back to generosity? Was it because of her infirmity? It was always hard to tell with him.

Alais wondered if it was even worth the effort to minimize those days that were cruel (and minutes sometimes felt a more accurate term than days). Part of her suddenly found itself in need of resisting the urge to (kindly) ask if he would move her to more remote quarters the next time he fancied making loud noises at night.

The instinct slipped away. Later, she told herself. For now she calmed herself with the warmth of the cup seeping into her palms. On the exterior, she still appeared obstinately against acknowledging anything he had to say, mild-mannered or otherwise, but after a moment, a hand sought tentatively and experimentally for his, curling gently around his thumb.

It may have taken all three days of silent contemplation to force herself beyond that conundrum of contact. Why had she been so resistant before? For a quagmire of complexities: for one, she hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of touching her - ever; for another, a sliver of her subconscious continued to remain deeply afraid of... another quagmire of complexities. Neither mattered anymore.

Gaze pointed downwards at her tea, she spoke for the first time in several days, "I know I've been... difficult. And I haven't always been reasonable for it."

Yes, she had. But he evidently hadn't thought so, from his perspective where everything and the universe itself revolved around his whims, and thus it was so.

He looked suitably surprised, both by the gesture and her breach of silence. But it didn't keep him from shifting his hand, so that it cupped and encompassed hers - which was a fairly easy feat, considering the massive disparity in size.

"I forgive you," he said, lightly, this sentiment perfectly capturing his brand of generosity and entitlement all at once - he did seem genuine about brushing away what he had perceived as her foibles, but of course, that he did perceive them as foibles at all was itself a conceited point of view. "You've been through quite a lot, all considering," he allowed. This was an understatement, and even he seemed to sense it, for he chuckled. "I can't say that I imagined our trip would be so full of...excitement."

She inclined her head in quiet acknowledgement, her thoughts on another matter.

"Starting tomorrow..." she began, but then silence reclaimed her - as though she had lost her words mid-declaration.

She thought she had made up her mind, but it was difficult to quiet all those last-minute ruminations and niggling doubts.

"Yes?" he prompted. He looked smug (though maybe that was just his default expression). He probably thought she was about to announce her capitulation - that she had realized the error of her ways and would from now on be more tractable. To be fair to him, it was a rational progression; there was nothing to be gained, except useless pride, in blatantly defying him, not when she was bound to him for the foreseeable future.

She could struggle as much as she liked, and he would still push and push and push until she hadn't an inch left to breathe. It was and was not a capitulation. She was and was not giving in. If she were, the end result would've been more like... that lifeless marionette facade of the past few days, but forever. A permanent withdrawal into herself with no conceivable end. Frankly, she suspected that may have been less than ideal for the both of them, and while her intent had not been to accommodate his interests (an improvement from that petty desire of actively working against his interests), it just so happened that lying through her teeth (starting tomorrow) might happen to be the superior resolution for everyone involved.

"Starting tomorrow..." What should be said, if anything at all? Starting tomorrow, things would be different? She would be different? Telling him in advance was beginning to feel a little senseless, in hindsight - which of course prompted her to settle over the most senseless assertion of all. The cadence of her speech was unhurried as she weighed over the choice of words, almost annoyingly slow in its quiet tones.

"I'm going to - " Alais almost started on the word try, but thought better of it, " - love you." To 'love him', and to be beyond (reasonable) reproach. She didn't announce it with a hearty gravitas - more like a statement of fact, not too unlike the declaration of one's dining plans, albeit with some inkling of resignation.

The King tilted his head, as if taking in and weighing this answer, before answering with an abrupt laugh. She was not perturbed by his laughter, for none more than her should have been keenly aware of how ridiculous her proposition sounded. Perhaps he had expected different answers - to comply, maybe, or to be reasonable. But that would not quite have captured her meaning. Not that she currently expected him to understand.

"Well, how flattering," he said, still looking amused. Amused enough not to let it go at that, evidently, for he continued, "And how are you going to love me then, Alais? What should I be looking forward to?"

He was teasing her, though it was gentle teasing for now. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to her knuckles. "Or is it a surprise? I shouldn't want to stand in the way of your plans, when I have love to lose for it." He looked like he was on the verge of laughing again.

"You'll have to find out tomorrow," she answered airily, responding to the teasing with nothing short of good sport. She swirled the teacup idly in her free hand before pressing the rim to her lips for a light sip. Even now, there was some petty satisfaction to be seized in the simple act of baffling the man. Anyway, she suspected that he probably liked being baffled, just a little bit. Men who had everything in their control, and who were accustomed to getting their way, were susceptible to enjoying their intrigues now and then.

"Hmm," said the King, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Then I suppose I will wait with bated breath," he said, his tone similarly cavalier.

He released her hand, rising, and subjected her to a look over. "Given your recent fever, I'll let you rest. You may sleep in your new chambers tonight," he said. His lips twisted, slightly. "I insist - love or otherwise."

Her head rose somewhat at the continued reassignment of her room. Despite her overall indifference, part of her did feel a certain relief for the additional time she had to prepare. There would be no returning to her present state, if she wanted to be thoroughly convincing. An immaculate act. Beyond reproach. The next opportunity wouldn't be until when - well, probably not until he was dead, and she and her family was far and away from the consequences. The latter was just as paramount as the former. Elsewise, even if she did succeed in escaping... it would mean nothing. It was all she could do to but try and chip away at his guard over time.

"About that," she hazarded, turning the cup in her hands. "If Your Majesty should repeat the events of last night, I'd appreciate being placed somewhat... farther away. Sound passes easily through these walls, you see."

Then she added, her tone quite (unbelievably) amiable given the circumstances, "If it's not too much trouble."

The King looked momentarily confused, but only momentarily. Unbelievably (as well), his first reaction was not to be ashamed or apologetic, but - as if he couldn't help it - to grin. She supposed it was kind of a funny problem to have, in an awful sort of way.

"Oh. I do apologize for that," he said, pleasantly. "I hadn't realized. I shall arrange for a different room."

It was a much simpler and more painless exchange than it should have been (for any other married couple).

The amusement lingered in his eyes, as he bent to kiss her on the cheek. "Let me know if the problem persists."

The sounds of his steps retreated, leaving her alone once more.

Alais had both hands to nurse her tea, and she resumed her idle staring into its depths. That had to be the end of it, then. Tomorrow...

*****

Authors: What is Alais's plan? What kept Alexander so distracted? All those answers (and more) will be coming up in the next chapters! (Feel free to speculate in the meantime!) As always, if you're liking our story, you can encourage us with your ratings/comments/subscribes. Thanks for being an amazing readership!