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The queen turns around and sets the book down on the table. As she approaches, I give her a small, but silent applause for the show. She dips into a playful bow. She picks up the yellow bound book and returns to the children who are patiently waiting.
The next story is the tale of the Amari and how the threads of fate always lead you to those you are destined to be with, regardless of what life throws at you. Couples lean into one another as the queen eloquently performs the lore with dramatic flourish. A warm sense of love hums through the air as if the fates are here with us, listening intently.
The queen closes the book and returns it to the table beside me. She takes a seat gracefully in the vacant chair. Heat radiates from her and a light sheen of sweat dots her forehead. I want to reach for her and tell her how amazing she is but rub the back of my neck instead.
“I can’t find my Amari,” sighs a small voice from the center of the circle. The queen looks down at the crowd of children with so much love and kindness. My heart nearly erupts in my chest. This is the picture people should have of Umbra, not the harsh, murderous one set forth by their king.
The entire room looks back at the queen with adoration. I’m overtaken by the purity of the moment.
Is this the true Umbra she wanted me to see? This can’t all be an act.A small voice of doubt enters my thoughts. But I take note of how much quieter and less certain the doubts have become.
The queen’s sweet voice brings my attention back to the library.
“In time, you will find your Amari. And, when you do, stop at nothing to keep them safe and close,” she answers, but instead of looking at the children, her sorrow-filled eyes flash to me. They moisten as tears form. But a breath later, they’ve dried. Pushed away like all her other emotions, tucked behind her carefully placed mask.
I wish I could tell her it’s safe to let it slip with me, but that would make me a hypocrite. I’ve been wearing the same mask since meeting her. Neither of us is ready to deal with the reality of what revealing our full selves would mean for us.
My heart pings with familiar pain as our conversation from the bridge sets in. I’m trying and failing to reconcile this empathetic woman with the queen who married King Asher. It seems that they are not Amari, and their marriage is one of convenience, not love. What is she gaining from this? It’s almost like she’s his prisoner. The king wielding his power and hiding her away from the realm.
I slide my hand across the table and gently squeeze the queen’s hand. A silent gesture of understanding and thanks for sharing an honest moment with me. Even if I don’t know what it’s truly about. Like me, the queen seems to be letting down her defenses.
A loud round of applause reverberates through the library, and the moment between us is lost.
“Time for bed, children,” Hiram’s voice booms as the children groan in protest.
Their parents usher them up and out, stopping to thank their queen before leaving.
Nyx leans down, whispering in the queen’s ear before he exits the library, helping to carry exhausted children back to their beds.
We are alone.
The silence causes questions to whirl in my mind, and I have to know.
“Does King Asher not enjoy bedtime stories?” I ask.
I’ve been enjoying my time with the queen so much, it has barely registered that I haven’t seen King Asher for a while.
How could he not want to spend every waking moment with this magnificent woman?
“It depends on who’s telling them. Why, do you want to tell Asher a bedtime story?” She smirks.
“No,” I answer quickly, trying to get the image of the terrifying mass of darkness looming as a sweet children’s story is read. “It’s just the king wasn’t here tonight. He missed a great performance,” I say with a grin.
The queen’s expression turns inquisitive. “How do you know Asher wasn’t here tonight?”
“The obvious lack of swirling black shadows trying to kill me was a bit of a hint,” I say with a shrug.
The queen studies me thoughtfully.
“What do you know about Asher?” she asks, and I shift in my seat, trying to think of all the things I’ve learned about the shadow king over the years and during my interactions with him in my cell.
“King Asher has no known origin and is the strongest divinus in generations. He earned his name as the Umbra Brutus for being a murderous beast that lurks in the shadows. He has an affinity for killing anyone who crosses him. There are many people who believe he’s a new god walking among mortals,” I answer as if reciting from a textbook.
The queen smiles slyly.
“Here I thought you were a captain of the guard, not a scholar,” she says and my cheeks heat. “But like most of your information from Lux, it’s not entirely true. Yes, Asher is extremely powerful. But the shadow form is just another veil to protect our people. Underneath, Asher is as mortal as the rest of us,” she says, watching me.
I swallow hard, trying to process the words.
