xii.

THE DARK FOREIGN KING LED her out of the throne room in a manner that was beyond anything Isadora Tremaine could've ever imagined.

He had gestured to her, his arm extending as he motioned for her to walk ahead, and then instead of picking up his own pace and begin walking in front of her, he had fallen in place beside her. His pace matched deliberately up to hers, even though she knew he could go much faster.

Isadora held onto the skirts of her dress slightly, and that slowed her, but the king didn't seem to mind. It appeared to Isa, that he would go however slow she wanted go.

They exited the throne room, walking beside each other like equals, but Isa knew they were far from that. This was merely King Alexander Casimir's courtesy-this beautiful moral courtesy that he carried inside him like a jewel.

But Isadora knew that it didn't do well to get attached to jewels, because they never stuck around. She knew that better than anyone, for she had been there when her mother had bathed in jewels when her father was still alive. But then he had gone, and in his death he had taken all the jewels with him, leaving Lady Tremaine bare and reeling.

"Tell me, Miss Tremaine, do you like horses?"

The dark king's words were stones and marbles, hard and solid, rolling off of his tongue in his deep baritone, full of intention and meaning.

Isadora kept her eyes fixed ahead and low, already hyper aware of him walking beside her like this-inciting her own inferiority. Nothing hit harder than your own faults, when you stood beside someone who's faults you could not really see.

"I do, your majesty," She spoke then, keeping her voice soft as they walked down the hallway the grand duke had led her, Archie and Cinderella through, just an hour and a half before.

There were portraits adorned on the dark walls-ones that Isa hadn't noticed before, golden frames gleaming in contrast with the crimson carpet on the floor.

"Though I don't frequent their company anymore," She continued.

The foreign king looked at the side of her face as she kept her sight fixed ahead. She felt the gaze of his melting brown eyes like gentle warmth hitting her face.

"And why is that?"

His questions, Isa had noticed, were rarely ever asked like he was owed the answers. There was a gentle nudge in the way he asked, it made Isadora always want to answer. It made her want him to keep asking, though never before had Isa found questions anything less than infuriating.

"My father used to have horses. I loved them for the first six years of my life," Isa began, briefly glancing at him before she fixed her eyes ahead again. Even the merest eye contact with him set her soul on fire.

"He encouraged us-me and my younger sister Lucinda-to learn to ride," She blinked, reflecting on memories she had never spoken of.

"I remember it took us such a while."

Then, Isa giggled, a small laugh like a sparkle burst from between her lips as she saw a scene from her past play out in her head. An excited horse galloping on her late father's manor grounds, while a screaming five year old Lucinda held her thick arms tight around the creature's mustard neck, almost strangling the beast.

"But when father died, we had to leave," Isadora swallowed then, reaffirming her composure.

"The baron-Cinderella's father-kept a horse, but mother didn't approve of us learning to ride anymore. Our circumstances had changed," Isa shrugged gently then. "So I never approached a horse again."

The king exhaled slowly, turning his eyes away from her and fixing them ahead in thought. His hands were once again pinned at his back as he held himself straight-with dominance and self belief.

"Would you like to?" He uttered after a pause then, making Isa glance at him briefly.

"Would I like to what, your majesty?"

"Reacquaint yourself with a horse," He met her eyes, a certain determination swirling in the depths of his brown irises.

"I'm an avid rider, I know horses like the back of my hand-," King Alexander Casimir broke off, a smile breaking his words. "I was raised amongst them. I could-"

He stopped short then, and a flutter of heat washed over Isadora's neck. What was he implying? Would he teach her how to ride? But that was-that would be improper. Kings don't teach ladies to ride horses. It was highly improper.

But suddenly, Isadora felt her heart batter with want. She wanted him to teach her how to ride. Abruptly, Isa cut that senseless thought away like it was weed growing in her mind.

"I could reacquaint you with horses," The foreign king carefully put his words, knowing exactly what he was saying.

"My stallion, Augustus, is a mindful one. He is gentle when I tell him to. I can control him. But if you want, we could sort you out with any horse you would like. I brought a number of mounts with me from Angria, and Reginald's own collection is very-"

"Your majesty," Isadora broke in then, desperate to pull herself out of the traps her own mind was setting for her, fueled by the king's words.

"Please, you really must not bother yourself so for me."

As if jostled into more certainty by her reluctance, he met her eyes with a new determination.

"It is no bother, rather, I fear it will be one of my greatest pleasures, to assist you."

Isa turned her eyes away, not knowing what to say as a blush warmed her cheeks without her permission.

They approached the end of the long hallway, and were met with two staircases, each folding in opposite directions like intricate vines. Isadora recognized the staircase she had took with the grand duke, her son and Cinderella, on their way to the throne room. In her anxiety, she hadn't seen the second staircase, and now, the king led her towards it as she took care of holding her skirts out of her steps as she descended beside King Alexander's form.

This staircase was the same both Cinderella and Isadora had employed use of for their hurried exits, the night of the ball. Last night it had been decorated with burning candles and beautiful blue light streaming in from the silvery moon that had shone outside. In day light the staircase looked even more magical.

Isa saw the exit right opposite to the end of the staircase, in the foyer. Outside that exit, the last grand staircase had led Isadora to the waiting carriage outside and Cinderella to the woods. There, on the last grand staircase, Isa's stepsister had left her glass slipper behind, and there Prince Charming and King Alexander had stood-helpless, confused-as two maidens had just picked up and left.

Stepping gentle steps down the staircase, Isadora clearly saw the other half of the palace's grand foyer for the first time. She had only glimpsed it last night as she had rushed past. At present, it was bathed in the streaming sunlight that poured in from the long glass windows and the wide door to the left that undoubtedly led to the luscious gardens on the palace grounds.

There were staff around, a few maids entering through the garden door and exiting somewhere behind the staircase Isa was currently on, not before pausing in their steps and offering King Alexander a curtsey, before they hurried away.

One maid, carrying a bundle of what looked to be pristinely pressed and folded table cloths, stepped on the staircase, ascending as Isadora and the king descended.

Isa held the skirts of her embellished emerald gown, suddenly frustrated at having worn such a heavy dress upon Lady Tremaine's insistence, when she could've gone for a lighter, still elegant choice.

The maid neared as she ascended the steps, a crease in the woman's brow as her mind worked at chores and her eyes didn't spot the king or Isadora coming down, fixed as they were on the table cloths she held piled up.

It was when the maid neared Isa's own path and still hadn't acknowledged that she was blocking someone's path and that she should be taking a side, that Isa had to step aside herself.

And in doing so, she had to gather her skirt from the side. In the mere minute that it took to do so, the maid had ventured too close.

The woman stepped on the hem of Isa's dress and as Isadora tried to take the side that she intended to, her dress wouldn't comply, and she tripped, her ankle folding to the point that it sent a sharp ache rivalling up the bones in her leg.

She lost her balance, her lips eliciting a slight whimper as she braced herself for the terrifying fall down the flight of stairs.

But before she toppled, King Alexander Casimir's arm instantly gripped her waist-firm and strong-as it forced her body to a stop, pulling her form close to his. Instinctively, she threw her arms at his shoulders, holding onto him as though he was her last lifeline in that moment. And he was. For if it were not for him, she would've broken her neck at the end of the staircase.

Isadora met his eyes in shock and relief-both emotions displayed in the girl's ebony eyes in equal measure.

His own eyes only displayed a sudden alarm, before his expression morphed into a firm depth, his gaze deep in hers as it softened and then softened some more, making her heart pound with not fear but a wild anticipation-a wild hope.

"My goodness!"

The cry broke out in Isadora's periphery as the spell shattered and she turned to look at the horrified maid.

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and-"

The maid spotted King Alexander Casimir then, his arm still firm around Isadora's waist, holding her weak form close to him-anchoring her to him.

"Your majesty!" The maid, horrified some more, dropped into a shaky curtsey, before she bent to retrieve her table cloths that had fallen on the stairs.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

With that, the maid let out a stifled cry as she quickly ran up the steps, hiding her face in the table cloth as she disappeared from view.

Brought to her senses, Isadora Tremaine removed her hands from the king's sturdy shoulders, her neck heating up as her stomach fluttered wildly.

His arm wrapped around her back made her feel giddy. It made see stars almost, as her skin prickled with goosebumps that she could only associate with pleasure at present. It was confusing to her, how her body had gone from hating someone else's touch to reveling in King Alexander Casimir's. But maybe, much underneath Archie's name, it was only his touch that her body had listed under exceptions.

He had kissed her gloved hand in the throne room, and now he held her securely close to him, having just saved her life. The butterflies in Isa's stomach tasted rebellion and desire, and they wouldn't be convinced otherwise.

Slowly, the king met her eyes again, and realization warped into his orbs too as he slowly made to retrieve his hand but stopped, having thought something.

"Are you alright?" He let out, his arm still holding her halfway as his eyes dropped to her hem of her dress.

"Are you hurt?"

Isa blinked, forcing her mind to clear itself out as she felt a slight throbbing at her right ankle. The pain carefully placed itself-taking revenge at having been ignored by her before.

With a hand she moved her dress skirts slightly as her right foot peeked from underneath the emerald hem. Her black heeled pumps shone on her foot, and Isa turned it to see her ankle. It was slightly red and throbbing.

"My ankle-," She broke off, "I think I merely twisted it. It isn't broken."

Isa knew what a broken ankle looked like, just like she knew what a stabbed corpse looked like.

The king exhaled, his nostrils flaring slightly as his dark brows pinched together.

Then before Isadora could comprehend what was happening, King Alexander Casimir took her hand and placed it gently on the staircase's intricately made railing for her support and then he stepped a step down and dropped on a single knee, reaching his hand toward her injured right foot.

He stopped midway, as his dark, gold ringed fingers brushed slightly against the hem of her dress.

He looked up at her, his eyes sharp and soft at the same time.

"May I?"

Isadora's breaths came in hard and heavy, as she struggled to get her heart to stop pounding. Unable to form words, she nodded her head, and confirmation flashed in the king's brown eyes before he dipped his head and focused on her ankle.

His hand took hold of her right foot gently, and Isa almost gasped at the warmth of his hand on her skin. He took the heel of her foot and moved it gently, testing out for any breaks himself. It hurt slightly, but not enough, only confirming the fact that her ankle was not indeed broken.

They looked like a picture, on the steps of these stairs, with Isadora Tremaine in her lavish gown as the king of Angria stood on his knees in front of her, holding her foot like it was precious glass.

Isa spotted a maid rush into the foyer through the exit to the gardens and the woman instantly halted in her steps as she took in the scene above on the stairs, an expression of surprise and shock on her face.

Suddenly pulled out of her reverie, Isadora cleared her throat and retrieved her foot from the king's hold. A wave of embarrassment washed over her as the maid watching ducked her head and scurried away.

"Your majesty," She let out in haste and anxiety. "I'm quite alright, please do get up."

King Alexander Casimir met her eyes, a dubious look swirling in them as he slowly straightened himself to his full height in front of her.

Isa fixed the skirts of her gown and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm so sorry for this trouble. I really should've-"

He shook his head, his eyes stern in hers. "It isn't your fault, Miss Tremaine."

Then before Isadora could say anything else, the foreign king turned his head to a side and called for a maid. His deep baritone thrummed even in the marble of the stairs that she was standing on, invisible ripples forming on every surface present as his dominance streaked through the seams of Isa's own form, making her heart unable to settle down.

A maid instantly came rushing out from underneath the stairs, making Isadora decide that there lay hidden perhaps the entrance to the servant's quarters, or maybe the laundry room. It was the same maid who had seen the king kneeling in front of Isadora just moments ago, with her foot in his hand.

"Please fetch Prudence."

The maid scurried away with the king's order, and a minute later, she had ventured back, trailing submissively behind a tall brunette lady, her features hard and fixed, her form enveloped in a sleek professional day dress and dark hair in a sleek knot atop her head.

"Prudence," The king acknowledged her as the older woman fell into a well performed curtsey.

"Your majesty."

"My guest, Miss Isadora Tremaine, seems to have twisted her ankle," King Alexander Casimir began, his voice hard as he began to relay orders that Isa didn't see coming. "I'm taking her to the infirmary, send word to Reginald's physician please and ask him to be ready."

"Your majesty," Isadora hastened, anxiety lacing her voice. "It's truly alright. I'll be fine, there's really no need-"

"Please, Miss Tremaine," The foreign king turned his brown eyes towards her. "You are here because of me, if you don't allow me to aid you, it will weigh on me."

The woman called Prudence, heard the exchange, as her solid dark brow rose in suspicion. She finished relaying the order to the maid at her tail as the girl scurried away, and eyed Isadora from the foot of the stairs with a certain alarmed mistrust.

"Your majesty," The woman spoke then. "You mustn't bother yourself. I will see to your guest and ensure that her injury is looked after. Your attendance in this matter entirely unnecessary, I assure you."

The woman's voice bore obvious intention. Her tone was harsh, though Isa could tell that she was perfectly capable of altering it underneath a veil of submission when she conversed with the royals. Taking a hint form somewhere Isadora could always trust in the bottom of her own being, she immediately didn't like the woman.

"Yes, your majesty," Isadora affirmed regardless, for though the woman held other intentions in the submissiveness she portrayed, she had been correct and Isa couldn't deny that.

"I'll be alright, I'm sure."

King Alexander Casimir, held his sculpted features firmly as only his eyes bore into Isa's, chocolate irises trying to determine something as he waged a battle with the thoughts prodding in his head. Isadora could tell that he was severely at odds, trying to determine a victor from in between two opposing thoughts.

"If you say so, my lady," The king spoke then, his eyes fixed still into Isadora's own, before he turned towards the woman standing at the foot of the stairs, with professional anxiety in her dark eyes. He nodded at her, and that simple nod was enough for the professional anxiety to vanish and to be replaced by satisfaction and the woman exhaled and straightened herself.

Turning back towards Isadora, one foot on a latter stair and one foot on the former-looking as though his every position was a subject for the canvas-the foreign king regarded Isadora with concern.

"But will you be able to get to the infirmary?" He inquired, "If it hurts to, I will carry you."

A gasp sounded at the foot of the stairs, as Prudence covered her slip in composure with a genteel cough, her shoulders rigid.

Isadora's own heart threatened to break through her ribcage, causing carnage in her chest without any mercy.

"Your majesty!" Prudence then burst out before Isa could gather her words and say something.

The woman gripped her skirts with one bony, red painted and sharp nailed hand, and took efficient strides to ascend the stairs and near King Alexander and Isadora.

"I will assist if she has any trouble," The woman breathed, panting from her exertion, her voice an octave too high in her panic.

"Really, you mustn't bother, your majesty," And then under her breath she added, "It simply isn't done."

It simply isn't done. The statement brought Isa reeling back to actuality so hard that she almost stumbled. The woman was correct. Isadora shouldn't have been here in the first place, what was she doing standing here and accepting King Alexander's blatant concern over a mere twisted ankle? Who was she to deserve such an attention from a king? Why was she so hell bent on breaching propriety? For all the training and etiquette she had ever learned, King Alexander employed a different take on all the subject matter entirely, and it left Isadora confused and stunned.

Dropping her eyes low, Isadora tried to discreetly step on the injured foot, hoping and praying that she was capable of walking-capable still of salvaging her dignity.

As soon as she shifted a bit of her weight to her injured foot, she hissed sharply in pain. And the sound caught King Alexander's attention as it morphed into evident concern.

His brows furrowed as he got the answer he needed, much to Isadora's horror. The battle ongoing in his mind ceased as evidently, a singular thought won.

"Thus it appears," The king glanced at Isa once and then looked towards Prudence's dismayed reaction, before his chocolate eyes found Isadora's again.

There was a certain light in his eyes, as though he had found himself deciding on the solution that he in turn had preferred himself-the solution that had been there all along but was being misdirected, and crowded by obstacles.

"That I'm carrying you to the infirmary."

With that being said, he efficiently neared her as his shoulders bent in front of her.

"Put your arm around my neck, Miss Tremaine."

Isadora's heart hammered so wildly that she feared the king would hear. Her eyes whipped towards Prudence, and in the woman's face she saw blatant disapproval. The woman's lips twisted in displeasure, her bony palms in fists at her side as she all but glared at Isadora.

Isa put her arm around the king's neck. Her mind had stopped responding to her, it had stopped coming up with alternatives to say or do. It had given up entirely for the time being, and Isadora in turn didn't know what else to do if not what the king was asking of her.

As her arm wrapped over his sturdy shoulders as the king put his own arm underneath her legs over her dress, his other arm holding her back as he lifted her up in seconds-effortlessly yet carefully.

She couldn't believe what was happening, held up in the king's hold securely, she felt detached from her reason, and that mere feeling scared her as much as it thrilled her in a way that she didn't want to examine closely.

Her other arm wrapped around King Alexander's neck too, as she tried to support herself more securely, afraid that he'd have to struggle if she did not.

Prudence saw her do it, and the woman's displeasure deepened into something akin to disfavor or even hatred. Isa couldn't place it. The woman was undoubtedly someone who managed the castle staff, but couldn't she see that Isadora meant no harm? Couldn't the woman see that she had no choice?

Isadora wanted to tell her that it will be alright, that she would go away with her son tonight and will never put herself in King Alexander Casimir's path again like this. She would never impose like this ever again. Isa wanted to tell the woman that she had never imposed on anyone ever before, and that this was the first and last time.

Isadora Tremaine turned her eyes away from the woman following close behind as King Alexander took careful and easy strides down the stairs, his eyes fixed ahead as the path to the palace infirmary played in his mind.

Isa couldn't help but observe him. In this close proximity, she could see every dip and rise on his face. She could trace his cheekbones, and jawline with her eyes-marvel at the dark brown color of his skin and how it glowed like the sun itself.

He smelled of musk and wood, covered lightly with the pristine scent of the material of his lavish red suit. He smelled like everything powerful all at once.

"Do you like what you see?"

His words caught her off guard as they spilled from in between his dark soft lips, his eyes straying from the path he was taking to briefly look into Isadora's, nestled close as she was to him.

A furious heat washed up her neck as she blinked, lips parting but no words coming out.

"Your majesty," She uttered then, taking his title in order to add some semblance of propriety in between them-in order to dissuade him from making such statements, though her stomach did cartwheels the likes of which Archie frequently performed in Isa's bedroom at the chateau.

A small smile played on his lips then as she glanced behind at Prudence, watching the woman watch her with eagle eyes and a raised brow, trying to hear into whatever conversation Isa and the king were having as they walked past hallways and corridors.

"I merely want to know," King Alexander moved his shoulder in a shrug slightly then. "What a beauty such as yourself thinks noteworthy in a man."

Isadora blinked, trying to steady her breaths and center her raging thoughts. Her fingers brushed against the back of his neck without her permission, and she had to bite her lip and slightly shift her fingers over his collar, in order to not yank her arms back to herself.

"If I asked you for three things that fit the category, my lady," The king probed, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. "What would you say?"

"His character, his consistency and his eyes," Isa spoke then, the words gentle but firm on her tongue.

She didn't realize that she had spoken then until after speaking. The words had been venturing in her brain nearby, for Isa had stored them in a vault somewhere, easy to access but never willing to. For who was she to raise an objection of any kind if a wealthy man decides to marry her and ensure Archie's future? Who was she to pin such a man against her own desires and specific selfish standards? He was wealthy, and that should be the end of it.

But somewhere inside her, these three things throbbed and bled and thrived-a secret fantasy that her mother and sister would laugh at.

King Alexander Casimir turned a sharp corner as palace servants in the way stepped away to let him pass, alarm in their manner for finding the foreign king in the servants' frequented area of the castle.

He embarked on a straight path and then met her eyes, the fingers attached to the arm he had placed at her waist, slightly twitched.

Isadora hadn't once looked at where he was taking her, though she knew the ultimate destination. Her eyes had only remained fixed on him, if not on his eyes then on his face, his jaw, his shoulder, his neck..

After a pause as he gazed into her eyes, he swallowed then, and a ripple could be seen on the dark skin at his neck.

"Describe to me this character, this consistency you speak of," He murmured, keeping his voice low as though he knew what he was speaking of, and was aware of the implications, but didn't care either way.

"And those eyes."

His tone made shivers violate every surface of Isadora's skin, and she couldn't move her eyes away from his.

"A strong character, your majesty," She began, "One that can overcome any difficulty with trust, patience and strength."

"The consistency to live life as a process instead of a cycle, and eyes that say what the lips cannot."

King Alexander Casimir exhaled, his eyes fixed ahead as he shut them briefly, a rumble sounding in the back of his throat.

Then he grinned a small grin, looking at her again as a door opened to let him through. Isa didn't see which door, or which room it was.

"A poet said it right then," The king began, his grin fading slowly. "That there's nothing like the words of a beautiful woman to make a man feel unworthy."

Isadora Tremaine's lips parted as she silently gazed back at him, trying to decipher the emotions in his eyes, but they were hard to pick.

Then, before she could comprehend anything else, the king adjusted her in his arms, shifting her carefully forwards as he lowered her on a cushioned seat-his cheek brushing against her ear as he did so, causing sparks of delight to rush to Isadora's stomach.

Then, he separated from her, and Isa was at a loss for words at this sudden distance between them as her heart fought to recuperate. She almost reached out for him, but forcefully clasped both her hands onto her lap as she adjusted her legs.

They were in the castle infirmary now, and Prudence quickly stepped up between Isa and King Alexander.

"So grateful to your majesty for the assistance," The woman clapped her hands together. "We shall take utmost care of the lady now that the physician is also here. Please, your majesty, don't exert yourself any further. King Reginald will be most upset."

Isadora lowered her eyes, hating the small feeling washing over her, making her appear little in her own mind. She squared her shoulders and steadied her breathing.

The foreign king looked past Prudence and met Isa's eyes once she looked up at him. There was something unreadable in them. He neared Isadora and Prudence had to step aside reluctantly.

"I realize that you will need your rest, my lady, after the physician tends to your ankle," His tone was.. regretful, and solemn, though as firm and hard as his usual.

Something fell inside her at the reminder. She couldn't walk with ease in an observatory now, or even look at horses with him in the stable. All the plans he had made had fallen through in the blink of an eye.

Disappointment almost ate Isa alive, but she straightened herself. All was as it should be. Everything happened because of a reason. Fate had put a stop to Isadora's foolishness, barring her from getting caught in her own whims and those of a King who's goals didn't match her own.

He can try a thousand hearts for size, Isadora reminded herself, but I can't.

She had a four year old child to think about, she couldn't risk his future like this when what she should be doing is finding a wealthy match for herself-away from her heart's involvement.

"Yes, your majesty," Isadora began with firmness in her voice, pushing past her hurt. "I apologize, but I really would be imposing with my ankle in such a state. I will be leaving with Archie. I do hope you excuse us."

Something flashed in his eyes then, a large wave of dismay as he fought against it with his frustration at himself. He pursed his lips, and looked away briefly, before gathering himself and meeting her eyes again.

He nodded forcefully. "I understand."

With that, he bowed formally and in finality. "I hope you have a comfortable journey back, my lady."

And then he turned on his heels and exited the infirmary, without a single last glance thrown her way.

***

A/N:
This chapter is 5k words! Tell me if I should do 5k words each chapter or stick to shorter 2.5k word chapters I was doing before? <3 Anyway, i hope you liked this one!!