Queen Malina

      Finbar’s chest rises and falls as he lays in the bed next to me. Our wedding was this past summer, and everyone was there. Zabulon drank too much, as usual.

           “I love you,” I whisper into the air.

           Wishing I could bend down and kiss my husband, I refrain. I don’t want to wake him up.

           I climb out of bed and walk to our balcony. Sliding the door open, I step out onto it, gazing out over our great land.

           This summer was not the most peaceful summer. My wedding was a spark of light in the midst of tumultuous darkness, to be quite frank. While many in our nation accepted Zabulon’s ascension to the throne, many did not. Zabulon told me he expected this and was not surprised by the riots that seemed to break out without end.

           “Zabulon, it’s not fair,” I told him one night as we sat around the fireplace. “It’s not right. The people should respect you.”

           “Should,” he repeated, swirling his glass of wine. He downed the contents quickly, swiped his hand over his mouth. “Should is a funny word. There are many things that can be done. But how many things should be done, I wonder. Probably not a lot.”

           “But don’t you think it’s unjust?” I countered, surprised at his response.

           “What I think doesn’t matter to them. Complainers will complain, rioters will riot, looters will loot. All I can do is try to quelch the upheavals and hope that one day, my efforts will prevail.”

           Now I see Zabulon making his way across the front courtyard. He’s headed for the main gate, guiding a horse with the reins in his hand.

           Riding has become one of Zabulon’s obsessions, ever since he ascended the throne.

           “Zabulon!” I call.

           The young man turns about. He’s not wearing his crown, I note. Typical.

           “Wait for me!”

           I hurry back inside and quickly get dressed, trying not to wake Finbar. My husband sleeps soundly through all my rustlings.

           Hurrying to the bedroom door, I open it and step out. I rush down the many halls until I finally make it to the main doors.

           Heaving hard, I pull it open, the sunlight shining onto me.

           Zabulon still waits for me, down in the courtyard.

           He waves me forward when he sees me. “Hurry up!”

           I’ll ride behind the saddle.

           “Thanks for waiting,” I say, reaching him.

           “No problemo,” he purrs. “Come on. I’ll get you up.”

           Putting his hands down to form a stirrup, I step into them and climb up onto the back of the horse, behind the saddle. Zabulon climbs up, too, settling in.

           “Off for a ride, your highness?” says the guard at the gate.

           “As usual,” Zabulon returns, nodding.

           Once we’re past the gates, we take off into a slow gallop. Zabulon swerves off the road, racing through the open fields the stretch out around us. He doesn’t like riding into the cities. He just likes being out in the open.

           When we’ve reached a large hill, he stops the stead and peers over his shoulder.

           “How are you doing back there?”

           “I’m good,” I return, my arms still wrapped around him.

           “Let’s get off here and settle down for a bit.”

           I dismount and Zabulon follows after me. He ties the stead to a nearby tree and settles into the grassy carpeting beneath our feet.

           Following his lead, I sit down next to him, hugging my legs to my chest.

           “Zabulon, what are you going to do about the riots? It seems like nothing is working. They just keep breaking out everywhere.”

           “They’ll stop eventually.” Zabulon chews on a long strand of grass. “Don’t worry.”

           “Zabulon, I’ve been thinking.”

           When I don’t continue, the youth gazes up at me as he lays propped up on one arm. “About?”

           “About Finbar. I don’t know how happy he is here. I don’t want him to live here just because of me. I’m going to tell him that I’m willing to move with him back to his nation, if he wants.”

           “Finbar likes it here, trust me,” Zabulon returns. “There’s no need to offer that to him.”

           “I don’t know.”

           Zabulon is silent now. At least, for a moment.

           “Malina, I need you guys.” His tone is serious. “I need Finbar. I need people I can trust to help me rule.”

           “I know,” I return. “But you have Amadeo and the others. You don’t need us. You’ll be fine.”

           Zabulon gives a small smile. “I’m not so sure about that. Things might explode if the people find out you’re leaving. Leave if you want but not now. The times are too precarious. The people might read into it, think you’re pulling support away from me.”

           “They won’t think that,” I surmise, flicking my hair back.

           “Suit yourself, Princess. It’s your life. I’m not gonna keep you locked up in the castle. If you want to leave, you’re free to go.”

           “Finbar.”

           My husband glances up at my voice. He takes another bite from his soup.

           “Are you happy here?”

           The look on his face is one of surprise. “Happy? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

           “Don’t you want to go back home, be with your family?”

           The youth gives a smile. “Malina, my family is here. You’re my family. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

           “I just thought that you might miss the rest of your family back home, that you might want to see them again. I just wanted you to know that if you want to move back to your nation, I will support that decision. I want you to be happy.”

           “Malina, I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly happy where I am. There’s no need to move.”

           “Okay,” I murmur, taking a bite of my own soup. “If you say so.”

           “I do say so.” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. It’s about the riots. Zabulon has a request, but he wanted it to come from me. He thought you would listen better, if it did.”

           Of course.

           “What? What is it?” I return, my heart thudding. What could this be about?

           “Zabulon wants to step down,” Finbar says, cutting straight to the chase. “He wants to step down, and you ascend the throne. He thinks that if you do, the riots will stop.”

           “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to be queen.”

           “Hear me out, Malina.” Finbar raises a hand. Wait. “I think you should do it. It’s important for us to do what is in the best interest of the people. If you ascending the throne means peace, then we should strive for that.”

           “We can’t just switch out rulers willy nilly,” I spew. I’m not liking this conversation at all. “We can’t just have Zabulon be the ruler and me the next. Then what? After a month, you’ll be next? We’ll confuse the people.”

           “We won’t switch rulers out willy nilly. It’ll be one switch. One final one.”

           “Finbar, please don’t ask me to do this,” I say, pressing my hands to my stomach. I suddenly feel unwell. I think I’m going to be sick. “Don’t. This is one thing I never wanted to do and still don’t.”

           “Just think about it, Malina. That’s all I’m asking.”

           I bow my head, set my spoon down on the table. “I’m going to bed.”

           Getting up, I walk to the dining room door. It swings open as I reach it, Zabulon appearing in the doorframe.

           “Oops, excuse me.”

           I glower at him and walk past.

           “The princess is a little fussy, I see,” I hear him say.

           I don’t want to talk to him now.

           Zabulon, this was not the plan!

           When Finbar comes to bed, I don’t move. I shut my eyes so that he doesn’t know I’m awake. I hear him undress and then the bed moves as he climbs in under the covers.

           “Malina?” he whispers into the darkness.

           I squeeze my eyes. I don’t want to talk now.

           “Are you awake?” Finbar continues.

           “Yes,” I say.

           I turn over, just enough to see my husband. “What is it?”

           “I just wanted to tell you that I love you. Whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”

           I turn back over, my back to Finbar. Okay.

           “Malina, you want to go into town?” Amedeo stops me in the hallway.

           “Sure,” I return. “Yes.”

           “I have some shopping I want to do. I can drop you off where you want.”

           I nod. Grabbing my purse, I head out with the youth. We take a transport. Horses are too slow.

           Once we’re in town, Amedeo drops me off at one of the largest clothing stores.

           “Call me when you’re done,” he says. “Otherwise, I’ll head over once I’m done.”

           I nod, climbing out.

           Once inside, I head to the section where the gowns are located. I want to get a new one for the upcoming ball that Zabulon is hosting.

           The Ball of Freedom.

           I’m frustrated at Zabulon for wanting me to take his place, but I’m even more frustrated with the people. Why can’t they see he’s good for our nation?

           “….they’re holding another protest tomorrow?” says a lady near me.

           My ears perk up.

           “Our city can’t handle another riot like the last one. I miss the days when Endymion ruled. At least then there was peace.”

           No, that’s not what I want to hear!

           “If only that girl Malina had ascended the throne,” says another lady, “we would be in a much better state. The people would have accepted her.”

           “You think so?” says the first lady.

           “I know so. Well, I guess we’ll just have to cross our fingers and hope for the best.”

           Studying a dress, I pretend to mind my own business as the ladies walk by. They don’t recognize me, which I’m glad for.

           As they walk away, I gaze after them, swallowing hard.

           Maybe Zabulon is right.

           “Okay.” I plop down in the chair in front of Zabulon’s desk. “I’ll do it.”

           “Do what?”

           “You know. Do what you want. I’ll ascend the throne in your place. I’ll be queen.”

           Zabulon’s face lights up. “Malina, seriously? You’re not kidding, right?”

           I shake my head. “No, I’m serious. I’ll do it. Our nation has seen enough rioting. It’s time for peace.”

           “Great, that’s great,” he says.

           “On one condition.”

           “What’s that?” Zabulon returns, his eyes narrowing.

           “You be my right-hand man.”

           “Ahhh, ah ah ah.” Zabulon shakes a finger at me. “The people want me out of the picture completely.”

           “That’s my offer,” I return resolutely. “Either I become queen with you as my right-hand man, or you remain king and continue to battle the riots plaguing this nation.”

           Zabulon runs a hand through his dark hair. He sighs. His eyes are still narrow as he studies me carefully.

           “Okay, you have a deal, Princess. I’ll be your right-hand man.”