an affair to remember

TW: Contains blood and violence.

Elian hears it all: her plan, the lovers’ tryst, the name of her new inamorato. It almost feels like the perfect love affair. Almost. Except, this is his wife he’s hearing divulge every bit of detail to her handmaid; the handmaid who has no allegiance to her lady, but rather, to the king. Has she forgotten that he has ears everywhere? Did she not understand that he meant that? If she was someone else’s queen, he would feel a bit sad for her, but she’s his.

“Not a word of this to Elian,” Valeria warns her attendant then brandishes a small, bejeweled dagger. “Or I will not hesitate to personally remove your tongue.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Her attendant, Magdalena, gulps.

“This is the only way to ensure my freedom and get away from that tyrant,” Valeria explains.

“But what if he learns of this? Then what? You’d risk your status for that stable boy?”

Valeria solemnly nods. “Magdalena, you have no idea how he truly is. I’ve seen it, and I am astonished that no one has tried their hand for the throne. He may seem like the benevolent king in front of the council and his people, but deep down, he is a ruthless despot. Sebastian is my only escape.”

Magdalena sighs. “I suppose…” Despite her lady having a reason, she has a duty to her people first. Not to herself.

“It’s for the best, Magdalena.”

Magdalena can’t say anything else. She needs to keep her mouth shut. Any discord with Valeria would be frivolous. “Yes, Your Highness.” Maybe if she feigns secrecy, she can secure her spot as the queen. His Majesty cares not for titles, which is why Valeria is in the position she’s in. A prisoner of war turned queen.

With that, Valeria raises the hood of her cowl and leaves the castle’s basement.

Out of the corner of his eye, the gardener spots a figure advancing across the courtyard. It’s her. There’s no mistaking that dark plum cloak. “My lady?” He says under his breath and turns his attention away from the snapdragons. What’s she doing out here this early in the morning? It’s only been an hour after dawn. Usually, the only ones out this early are the castle workers, and on rare occasion, His Majesty who roams the grounds with his wife at his side. Has something happened with Her Majesty? He watches her disappear into the southeast wing of the castle.

Valeria walks up the winding stairs of the narrow hallway. Hopefully, Elian hasn’t came back yet. But if he has, she needs to come up with a convincing lie.

She pushes the door open to their chambers and is met with a sleeping, shirtless Elian in their bed. Luckily, he’s asleep for now. She breathes a sigh of relief.

“Where’ve you been, love?” He slurs his voice to make it sound groggy.

The sound of his voice sends a chill down her spine. She shakes the ominous feeling. “Had some business to take care of in town.”

Even if he hadn’t eavesdropped on her and her lady-in-waiting, he can tell she’s lying. The way she avoids his eyes, and her closed body language. Should he squeeze her? No. He’d play the for the long con. Wait for the time to strike if it comes to that. But before then, he would play with her. “Did you get it handled?”

Valeria silently answers his question with the tilt of her head.

“Good. Any plans for today?”

“Nope,” she quickly says. A little too quickly.

“Ah, then I hope you don’t mind if I invite some of the dukes and duchesses for dinner this evening.”

She pales. She told Sebastian to meet her behind the cathedral, the one nearest to the forest. “Of course not. Why would I? Actually, I might have scheduled a small tea party with my ladies-in-waiting.”

“Pity.” He gently pouts. “Nevertheless, come back to bed. It’s too early for the diplomats to arrive, so I have time.”

Her stomach twists and turns, and sours. She never likes sleeping with him. She can practically feel the nightmares crawling in her brain. No matter how debonaire everyone else seems him to be, she can see straight through his armor, and every so often, he shows his true colors.

After getting a few more hours of sleep, he clothes himself and leaves to handle political matters with his generals and the foreign diplomats. This is one of the times Valeria can breathe easy. She doesn’t have to worry about her husband interrupting her schedule. It takes hours to conference with his generals and discuss a plan with Cromwell’s emissaries. Valeria casts her sheets aside in favor of getting dressed. Upon bounding out of bed, she knocks over a piece of paper folded into thirds on her nightstand.

How peculiar. It doesn’t have a name written on it anywhere.

She opens it.

I’m sorry. I had to, it reads.

Had to what? She’s nervous. Is this from Magdalena? She analyzes the note again. No, it can’t be. Magdalena has better penmanship than this. This writing is crude and rushed with the faint smell of the stables. Sebastian? No. He wouldn’t be able to. The writing lessons between them hadn’t progressed into contractions yet; and it cannot be the king. He simply doesn’t apologize. She crumbles the note, tosses it into a wastebin then saunters to her vanity armoire.

Stop being so paranoid, she tells herself. Deep breaths. It’s going to be fine. Today, we will be freed from this hellhole.

Valeria peers out of the window. It’s nearing sunset. She needs to hurry. With haste, she gathers a pouch of coins, dons her cloak and scales out of the open window down. The stables are nearby, she can smell it. Plugging her nose, she walks toward the smell. This should be the building. She opens the door and strides through the place, stall after stall after stall. No horses. Maybe it was her husband who wrote the note to deter her, but how would he know?

Suddenly, her ears perk up at a whinny.

“Valeria?” Sebastian calls. Her cloak is a dead giveaway. “I thought we agreed to meet behind the cathedral.”

“Yes, but I thought that taking a horse could maybe get us out of here faster.” Valeria walks closer to him.

“Won’t His Majesty find out?”

She can tell he is a little paranoid as well. He has every right to be. What they’re about to do is very dangerous. “If he does, it will be too late. There’s no way he can track us.” She reassures him.

“Listen, you have to go. You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

He goes silent. “Briar, he knows about us.”

“Then all the more to get out of here, Sebastian.”

He has a decision to make—hang for this or become a fugitive. He squeezes his eyes then reaches his answer. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He mounts the stallion then gives her his hand.

They're both off.

Tenderly, she kisses Sebastian goodnight. All of this mess is almost over. And when they reach Adabridge, they can finally live a normal life together.

She bids him goodnight and he does the same. She blows out the candles and they both doze off.

In the middle of the night, a fist pounds on their door, threatening to bring it down. Who could it be? She quietly slips out of bed, careful to not disturb Sebastian, and answers the door.

Her heart drops. He’s here. In their room. How did he find them? This place is safe from the king’s prying eyes and ears. Unless, Magdalena was the one who slipped her that note this afternoon.

“Where is he, Valeria?” he demands, careful not to raise his voice or show anger.

“Elian, please.” She begs, her voice quaking. “I-I will come back with you. Just, please, put your weapon away. There’s no need for violence.” She would sell her one opportunity of being free of him if it meant allowing Sebastian to live. Sebastian shouldn’t have to be punished for something she did. In her weakness, she was the one who sought him out. She was the initiator. She was the one with the plan.

Elian shakes his head. “It won’t be enough, Valeria. You know that. You, of all people, should know that.” He would make her pay. He will make her pay. This level of insubordination requires reprimanding, otherwise he’ll look weak. And she has experienced his ruthlessness firsthand when he conquered her lands.

“Elian,” she bargains with him and places her hand on his chest. “We can go home.”

He looks down at her with unsympathetic eyes. “No, Valeria.” His arm sweeps her aside as he moves toward the bed and an unconscious Sebastian. She pulls his arm back to stop him.

She hysterically pleads with him now. “Please, Elian. Please. Please. Please. Stop. You mustn’t.” Nothing is getting through to him. “Sebastian!” she screams to awaken him. “Sebastian, run!”

Sebastian abruptly wakes up, but it’s too late.

Elian now looms over him, blade to his neck.

“Elian!” she cries.

The king doesn’t hear her. He can’t. How could he? All he can hear is his heart thump against his chest and his blood boil.

This is the name she chose over him. This is the man who nearly took her. This is the man who she thinks is better than him. This…commoner. Bottom feeder.

His hand tightens around the hilt of his dagger until he beings to draw blood from his hand.

Elian blinks.

He’s aware of what’s happened. Blood decorates the sheets of the bed. His throat, slashed. His body, stabbed multiple times. Blood beads had splattered onto his face. He can hear wailing. Valeria. He looks behind himself. His blood-stained hand cups her cheek as his thumb gently caresses it. Hot tears mix with Sebastian’s blood before streaking down her chin. Elian plants his lips against her forehead; she winces at the roughness of them. Her heart races erratically when she peers down at the tarnished sword still in his grasp.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t for you,” he says then wipes his blade and conceals it. “I think you’ve already paid enough for your mistake, my love.”