"I can't believe it!"
"He always seemed so gentle!"
"How could he hurt our lovely queen??"
"You just can't trust a man, even a king!"
Luvenia wanted to sink into the nest of pillows and cushions the maids had fashioned for her.
"I keep telling you girls: he didn't do anything wrong."
"That's not what the doctor said!" countered Millie.
"She said not to let him NEAR you until you've recovered completely," Mollie confirmed.
"You're to stay in bed for the rest of the week, or else!" finished Mellie, her usually rosy cheeks now pale.
Myra leaned over to check Luvenia's temperature with the back of her hand. Her mouth was set in a disapproving line.
"He might've killed you! What a savage! –Madam, you're burning up! Let me get you a cold cloth..."
"I'm not feverish. I'm just embarrassed."
The maids kept wittering on about the king's insatiable lust while Luvenia's feeble protests slowly gave way to mortified silence. She couldn't think of a way to convince them of the truth without sharing a lot of information they really shouldn't know.
Myra suddenly fell silent. "Was that a knock?"
The maids snapped to attention like a pack of hounds.
"If that's his majesty," said Mellie in the fiercest growl a puppy could muster, "then he'd better turn around and leave RIGHT NOW unless he's looking for a good hard kick!"
"Girls... please... a little less treason..."
It was, in fact, his majesty; he did not, in fact, turn around immediately; and the maids did not, in fact, commit any mildly treasonous acts against him, but only because he'd brought Luvenia a bouquet of pale pink lilies and a tray of beautifully-iced miniature cakes.
Still, the maids kept a close eye on him as he sat by her bedside. She offered him her hand, and he kissed it chivalrously.
"My dearest," he cooed, "are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine, darling."
"You said that last night, but you weren't fine at all, were you? My poor wife, so brave and uncomplaining, who didn't tell me how much pain she was in..."
"Don't blame yourself, my love. You weren't to know."
The maids relaxed their scrutiny somewhat after this exchange, even allowing the couple a moment alone (though Luvenia was reasonably sure they had their ears to the bedroom door).
"Thank you for playing along," she murmured, unable to meet his eyes. "And... I'm sorry."
"You'd better be." He patted her cheek and brushed back a lock of her hair. "The doctor lectured me for a solid hour on 'controlling my lustful urges' and 'the delicate feminine organs'. You're lucky I'm such an easygoing man."
"At least no one will question your attraction to me after this."
"One less thing to worry about." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Now my main concern is what you told me last night."
Luvenia flinched, then hissed as one of last night's injuries flared up in response to her movement. Gorogon straightened up with a look of alarm.
"Are you all right? Should I–"
"Calm down." She caught his hand and laced their fingers together. "It's only a twinge. I'm reaping the rewards of my own ignorance."
"Maybe I should leave you to rest. We can talk more when you've recovered."
"That's fine. Just leave the cakes to rest with me."
He grinned. "Of course, my dear. They're all for you."
***
It was fully afternoon before Luvenia managed to get a moment alone. The maids seemed determined to wait on her hand and foot, despite her protests that she was perfectly capable of drinking tea and eating petit fours without assistance. She finally persuaded them that she needed complete silence in order to take a nap.
When she was certain they were gone, she rolled over and rapped on the wall her bedroom shared with the adjoining suite.
No more than ten seconds later, Hanna had passed through the connecting door into the sitting room and come into the bedroom. She dropped to one knee by Luvenia's bed.
"Your majesty..."
"Hang on, I'm coming." Luvenia rolled back toward her, gritting her teeth. Movement reawakened every bruise and tear, turning the dull throbbing into a bright mosaic of pain.
"Everyone's talking about what the king did to you last night." Hanna's voice had a strained quality. "How badly are you hurt?"
"It's not serious—and it's my fault, not his."
"I should have been on guard outside his room. I could have stopped him when you screamed."
"But I didn't scream, Hanna. I wasn't afraid. He didn't do anything against my will."
"If he ever hurts you again, I'll kill him."
"Hanna–!"
Hanna took the queen's hand with her usual delicacy. She was trembling in a way that suggested she found it difficult to restrain herself.
"I can't forgive him." She at least spoke more quietly, even if her words were no softer. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is. No one should ever hurt you or allow you to come to harm."
Luvenia felt a very different sort of pain as she looked into Hanna's eyes.
"Don't say you'll kill him. Don't even think about it."
"I'm sorry, madam. I know he's your husband–"
"No. Not because he's my husband. Because he's the king, and you mustn't go against him—not even for my sake."
Hanna's shoulders shook. Luvenia reached over and touched her cheek.
"As long as I'm alive, I want you to stay out of trouble so you can remain by my side. Do you understand?"
Hanna leaned ever so slightly into her touch. Luvenia wondered if this was how she herself looked in those rare occasions when her father had given her the tiniest bit of affection. If so, then how could he have maintained such indifference towards someone so lovable?
She wanted to ask if Hanna would be loyal to her rather than to her father—whether she would be so quick to speak treason against Eddard as against Gorogon.
"Are you mine, Hanna?"
The question hung in the air between them. Hanna seemed to be struggling with her answer. Her face was flushed under her scars.
"I am yours... to command."
Luvenia wasn't sure if that was the answer Hanna had wanted to give. She was sure it wasn't the answer she'd wanted to hear.
"Would you choose me over your true master?" Before Hanna could reply, Luvenia interrupted: "No—that isn't fair to ask. Don't give it another thought."
"Madam, I–"
Her heart clenched tight. "Don't."
"I need to tell you this. Please, your majesty..."
Luvenia sighed, then nodded in resignation.
Hanna clasped her hands together. It occurred to Luvenia that Hanna's hands were probably the only things she could grip tightly without breaking.
"I knew of you before we met, as you knew of me, and I admired your elegance and dignity—but my feelings then pale in comparison to my feelings now. From the day your father charged me with your care, I no longer had a master." Her eyes glistened. "On that day, you became my true mistress. I belong wholly to you."
For a moment, Luvenia thought she must have fallen asleep and dreamt everything she had just heard.
Then a stab of pain reassured her that she was wide awake.
"Give me your hands."
Hanna's hands were large, rough and calloused. Luvenia held them with her own small soft hands, feeling the tension in them, the self-control that her guard practiced every single day.
"Swear to me that what you've just said to me is true."
"I swear by Okiri and Ozazi, by Onibi and Oreda, that I am yours and yours alone. I will serve no other so long as I live."
Luvenia knew that men and women could lie, that anyone could swear by the gods, that the line between honesty and deceit was thinner than a hair and much harder to see. She knew that trusting a (former...?) servant of her father was a foolhardy, life-threatening risk.
But she desperately wanted to believe Hanna's words.
"Then I will accept you as my own," she whispered.
Hanna bowed her head and just barely brushed her lips across the back of Luvenia's hand.
"I'll let you rest now, madam."
"All right. Thank you."
After Hanna left, Luvenia lay quietly, heart fluttering.
Was this what it felt like, she wondered, to fall in love?