xviii.

THE SUNLIGHT WASHED INTO THE BEAUTIFUL chambers through the translucent and sheer curtains, illuminating the hardwood floors of Isadora Tremaine's room in this foreign palace. She stood by the tall windows that led into the gorgeous balcony with intricately designed balustrades that she could've only imagined in her dreams.

She contemplated crossing over and stepping into the sunlit balcony, feeling the air of the foreign kingdom thread through her hair and caress her skin. But she feared it would be too bold to be seen at the balcony from below by whosoever that happened to be passing by on the grounds. After all, she was a guest, it wouldn't do to appear into sight like that instead of leaving the room fully and venturing out to greet the hosts.

But, this was a palace, and her hosts were royalty. Surely she could not just barge into whatever private moments her hosts were having to themselves at this time of day just to announce her gratitude for the night past and audibly dwell on their courtesy in the most elaborate of terms. Surely, that would be unorthodox.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Isa dared to cross propriety and stepped through the tall windows Lucy had opened for her when she had awoken, and crossed into the balcony.

Thank fully, the grounds below were vacant, and there was no one walking in sight. The air was cool and sharp, but not enough to bother or hurt. Dressed in an intricately designed and embellished purple gown, her hair pinned in loose curls at the crown of her head, Isadora still felt shallow at the sight of the stunning blooming gardens on the grounds below as she approached at the edge and her fingers slowly clasped the cool balustrade.

The air, as a result was a wonderful concoction of every flower she could distinguish from sight alone, and more that she couldn't. Her heart seemed to stop beating the sight of all the colors infused below.

Back at the chateau, they couldn't afford to have a proper garden at all. The gardener who worked in the Tremaines' employ had worked at the chateau since the late baron-Cinderella's father-was a child, and thus he refused to leave even if he got no pay to stay. In aftermath of that, the chateau gardens were merely an overgrown display of the family's gritty allowance, with the gardener tending to it whenever he felt like he wanted to.

But this was something else. This was unlike anything Isa had ever seen before. Having arrived at the palace five hours ago now, she had been so overwhelmed that she hadn't taken much time to steep in her surroundings. But now she was refreshed, having had some sleep and the refreshments that had been sent to their room as part of Queen Ariana Casimir's welcome.

Archie snored softly in the bed behind her in the room, and Isadora glanced at him briefly, to find him turning to his left but still sleeping soundly. It was an hour past noon now, the sun was still dominating the sky, though it's wrath was soft and at mercy of the clear light clouds that were bent on scattering themselves harmlessly in the sky-determined to deter the sun, make it weak.

"What affliction do you have?"

Queen Ariana's words infiltrated Isa's mind then, from her conversation when she had shown Isadora, her son and Lucy, to their designated guest chamber.

"Pardon?"

"Something must be the matter for you to still be un-betrothed," The woman had asked, her heavy tone full of genuine curiosity and not contempt-something that Isa had found unnerving. If there had been contempt, then at least the girl would know how to feel. At present, she wasn't sure at all.

"You are beautiful-quite despairingly so," The Queen had mused then, as they had walked through gleaming hallways with the Casimir family ancestors gazing down at the passing party from the haven of their gilded portraits adorning the high walls.

"I see why my son is enamored with you."

Enamored. Isadora had allowed herself to dwell on that word as she had observed the Queen's countenance. It was clear to her then, that it wasn't that the Queen didn't approve of her, it was just that she was.. taken back. The kind of feeling that one got towards the phenomena of change itself. Isa thought of when she had first hired Lucy, she thought of Archie's indifference towards the maid at first when he had realized that she would become a third. His dislike had melted away like cream on a hot day, of course, but to Isadora the initial tendency struck.

Isadora thought of herself then, when she had been a mere little girl and Lady Tremaine had brought her and Lucinda over to the chateau after her wedding to the baron. Isa had found Cinderella-in a clean sky blue frock and gleaming like a doll-standing by her father's trousers. Then, she had silently disliked the girl, fearing that she would become a third in vying for the approval of a mother Isadora had already spent herself raw in acquiring.

But of course, all that had been nonsense. There was no third complex, it was all just tricks of a young mind that didn't know what was best for it yet.

Third. Did the Queen fear Isa would become a third too? Come in between her affections and standing relationship with her son? If so, that was preposterous. Isa had no such ambitions. Never once had the Queen even crossed her mind when she had danced with King Alexander Casimir at Prince Charming's ball. She hadn't thought about the woman when he had carried her over to the palace infirmary the next day after summoning her on account of her twisted ankle. She hadn't thought of the Queen when she had said yes to coming to this kingdom, Mon Dieu, Isa had used the woman as an excuse to refuse the invitation! It was the King who hadn't let her refuse.

In fact, Isadora hadn't thought at all about the Queen until she had seen her hours ago.

"I suppose I must have an affliction," Isadora had managed then, keeping her tone proper as her heart had convulsed.

How courteous indeed of a royal to assume that there was something the matter with people who were less privileged then themselves. It must be so easy for them to come to such a harrowing conclusion so casually, like it was the most obvious declaration ever and just needed to be declared.

"It all depends on your eye, your majesty," She had continued. "What are afflictions to you? If only you could give me a list, I shall know how better to answer your question."

There had been contempt in the girl's tone, but she had effortlessly laced it with a certain indifference that couldn't be examined as an argument, no matter how hard an onlooker tried.

Such had been the case with the Queen, who had merely glanced at Isa with a raised brow, trying her hardest to decipher the girl but coming to no concrete conclusion, the failure of which, the woman hid with a plain expression on her face. But of course, Isa had already caught onto it.

By then, they had arrived to these chambers of whose balcony Isadora was gracing at present, and the Queen had spoken her well wishes in a warm tone and excused herself to let them rest.

Isadora took a deep breath, letting the cool-flowers and sweet grass infused-air fill her lungs. She could hear Lucy in the chambers in the back, active on her feet as the girl gathered Isadora's previously worn dress and accessories and arranged them to a side, and pulled out a fresh attire for Archie to wear once he woke up. All the girl's movements were expected and relieving, and Isa didn't have to turn over her shoulder to look at her in order to find out what she was doing-a feat she was more than grateful for.

With her eyes fixed ahead, above the grounds below, Isadora Tremaine didn't see a certain someone walk out in the grounds, approaching the garden form the far eastern side.

With his tall stature, arms pinned at his back behind a dark navy suit, his crown set aside for a while as the wind threaded through his short hair making it messy, the King of Angria was on his solo walk-a commodity he desperately needed in his present circumstance to clear his mind, for that was really all he knew to do. It wasn't that his mind needed clearing, it needed adjusting. It was the heart that was brimful, threatening to spill over and make a mess.

In the past, the King of Angria had dealt with his pressing matters efficiently after a quick solo walk, and thus that was what he had resorted to this afternoon when he had to stop in his tracks, for there on a high balcony of one of the guestrooms, was the figure of the lady who had entirely become the reason for the conflict waging in his mind and heart.

She was a vision against the cream balcony, in the purple enveloping her stunning form, she seemed to dominate the entirety of the palace gardens, making every other life in face of her shine duller somehow-her own light overtaking all.

The King could hear himself breathing, but couldn't feel it. Something pressed in on his insides at the sight, and he realized that he could look at her forever.

Hadn't he told her that at some point? Hadn't he told her that he could have her painted and never tire of looking at it-at her? Had he been clear when he'd told her that? Had she understood how desperately he had meant it? Or had she taken it like she took every compliment from a man who gave her one, of the numbers of admirers, he had no doubt she had plenty.

He stayed there, obscured amongst the hydrangeas that bore a lighter blue than his suit, not daring to move lest he step on a twig and direct all the wrath of her attention directly on himself. Not that he didn't want it, he was just afraid he would fumble. He was conscious he'd lose his track of thoughts and would gape at her like an idiot, not knowing what to say or how to say it.

He had gotten her here, hadn't he? He had thought about this moment for so long since Charming's wedding that he'd almost convinced himself that there was no alternative. And then she had refused, bringing up all the matters and valid reasons that he was determined to refute. Still, he hadn't been able to convince her, leaving her chateau with a boulder in his chest in place of a heart that seemed to weigh him down and make every step he took agony.

Then he'd gone wild halfway back. Something had urged at him, a wild animal instinct that had called him a coward and tugged at his desperation, making it flare in his own face as he had redirected his horse and galloped back to the chateau, his own heat making him more alert and focused than ever.

And now, she was here. She was here, occupying one of the guest rooms in his palace, holding the balustrade of one of his balconies, looking out at his palace gardens.

King Alexander Casimir thought of the town doctor in Toulouse then. He thought of how he had first stumbled on Miss Isadora Tremaine, indulged in a passionate refusal of the doctor's advances.

The King had thought that he was merely doing a young lady a good service by interfering, but then she had turned and looked at him. And the sharpness of her ebony gaze, her beauty of her face, her allure of her form, it all had pierced him through. And then he'd spoken to her, heard her speak, heard her laugh, and he was pinned then-like a gilded portrait being nailed permanently to a wall. Except that wall was Miss Isadora Tremaine's property, and the nail in him seemed so heavy yet small to him that he was at a loss for how he could tear it out of himself and show to her, lest she'd laugh at the size of it-lest she'd judge the size of his passion first and not hold it first to weigh it in her own hands.

For how big can his passion be when it stifled under all the muscle he had inside him? What if it really was much too big and it unnerved her when he let it out?

What if he couldn't compare what he felt for her with what the town doctor felt for her? Or any other man for that matter? What if his own passion shriveled and failed in comparison, according to her calculations? He'd look like a right fool then.

Because to Miss Isadora Tremaine, refusal seemed to come easy. She was a lady with propriety and composure etched in every curve of her body, every seam of her glowing tapestry. He'd say one thing to her and she'd carefully and delicately bring him down to the ground, pointing out everything that he couldn't care less about. Pointing out all the things that didn't matter to him, when she was right in front of him.

How exactly would such a lady respond to this wild passion she had ignited in him on only their first meeting a month and a half ago?

She was merely twenty and two, a cacophony of her allure and a product of the kind of addiction he had never felt he'd succumb to in all his thirty years. Yet every woman he had been introduced to by his mother in his past years, noble ladies, princesses of other kingdoms, wealthy heiresses-they all paled in comparison in front of Miss Isadora Tremaine.

The King watched her intently, the mere sight of her standing like a jewel in the open filling him up with a desperation that he tried hard to coax.

Suddenly then, Archie came running up behind her, the boy's hair messy and fresh out of his tossing and turning in bed. He must've been sleeping. The boy threw his arms around Miss Isadora Tremaine's lower half, burying his face in the back of her skirts as she laughed.

The sound was like bells tinkling somewhere in a land that he could see in his mind's eye but not access. She laughed as she took his arm, turned and bent herself to meet his height.

Alexander could see the smile on her face from here as she spoke to him and the boy nodded in turn, speaking a few words of his own when she asked him something, running her slender fair fingers through Archie's messy hair fondly.

They spoke, one smiling and the other laughing occasionally at something the boy said. Then, they embraced, as the lady gently ran her hand over the back of Archie's head, her eyes closing briefly during the embrace.

And then they separated, as Miss Isadora Tremaine reached to her full height, taking the boy's hand as they exited the balcony, and disappeared inside the chamber.

And just like that, King Alexander Casimir stood looking at the empty balcony where no one stood anymore, the contents of his heart spilling out and his mind rebelling inside his head.

-🥀-

Isadora didn't see him again. After their due rest, the guests were summoned by the Queen for a delectable afternoon tea in the gardens. But King Alexander Casimir wasn't present, with the Queen making a fleeting apology for the absence of her son, claiming he had matters to attend to after being away from the kingdom for so long.

Isa tried not to let it affect her, taking bites of the cream cake-sugary and vanilla-that she had carefully cut for herself from the tier after making a plate for Archie, whilst the Queen was served diligently by a ready server at her side.

Isadora didn't let it bother her, but regardless how hard she tried, there was a gaping, hollow feeling in her heart that seemed to choke her from the inside.

Being in a foreign kingdom brought her no pleasure, despite what her younger self believed. Being in this foreign court-it felt as though she was constantly intruding. It felt as though she was taking up space that wasn't meant for her.

Back at the chateau, back in Toulouse, she hadn't ever felt this way. Back home she knew the space she filled was meant for her, even if it got painful to fill, even if the walls closed in all around her. Back there she just never thought about being, back there she just was.

Here she felt estranged, and the one person for whom she had come had abandoned her as soon as they had arrived. Isa bit the inside of her cheek. He was a king, of course he had no duty to her. She should be honored that he had asked her to come, shouldn't she? She was lucky that he had paid her such attention-any girl would kill to be in her place, having caught the eye of the handsome King Alexander Casimir of Angria. That was what Prudence had said to her hadn't she?

Then why did Isadora not feel lucky? Why did this feel like a dead end?

Anxiously she looked around. The tea party was been for three-for the Queen, Isa and Archie. There seemed to be no other relative at the palace, no other noble courtier that the Queen could invite to this tea party. Or, was it just that the Queen was avoiding inviting anyone else at all? Was this some sort of ploy to try and get to know Isadora better? To see if she could yank out reasons from inside of Isa that even the girl didn't know existed? To decipher out if she had an ulterior motive in coming here?

Isadora thought of that fairytale where the Queen makes a princess sleep under multiple mattresses, with a small pea embedded under the very bottom mattress in order to decipher if she was an honest princess or just a fluke pretending to be one. It had always been such a demeaning story to Isadora, but suddenly it was starting to mirror her real life.

These few weeks could make or break Isa's entire life. If it didn't happen with the King-if she realized the King didn't want her anymore, she intended to find someone else. She'd have holes in her heart, her hands trembling wildly while she bled inside out, her eyes dry of tears that will be shed, but she had to find someone else-because then where will she go once this stay was over? Where will she take Archie? Who in Toulouse would take her in?

Could the Queen have somehow figured out this ploy? Was this why this was an isolated tea party, meant to keep Isadora away from the nobles she could've otherwise been introduced to? Was this just so she could keep her desperate self to herself?

But how would the Queen know such a thing? When her son had no idea of all that Isadora had lost in coming here, how could his mother decipher something like this out in mere hours?

The afternoon tea ended, with the Queen only briefly talking to Isa. She asked questions about her mother, her sister, her relation to her nephew's new bride that he had found first at a ball, and Isadora had replied to them all in turn, making sure to state only a little each time. But the exercise made her realize that Queen Ariana Casimir only looked as though she suspected more than what Isa was telling, when in reality, the woman didn't even know the right questions to ask.

What were the right questions any how? Isadora had nothing to hide, but that didn't mean she wanted everything about her to be known. Some people spend years fighting battles that they tell no one about, but does that mean they are ashamed, or are hiding something? No. Some people just refuse to say something because they know the other person could never relate.

And Isadora had long stopped expecting the other person to relate to her, she stopped expecting such a commodity once Ruby Alderidge breathed her last on that surgery table in Samuel Harrison's house. She had been the only one.

After the afternoon tea, the Queen-a hearty woman with an obvious zest for the palace and her pride in all that her son had accomplished-gave Isa and Archie an impromptu tour of the palace, taking her to the throne room and showing her the grand ballroom draped in glittering golden tapestries and glistening tiled floors as candles in the crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a beautiful glow on the attendees below.

Archie, surprised by the display of wealth and prestige and trying to understand it, soon grew fidgety with the constant walking as he lost interest entirely, his attention wavering until he was distracted by every window they passed, quickly rushing up to each and peering outside to see if he could spot stables or horses.

Unlike what Isadora had expected before, the palace was nearly empty and no courtiers seemed to be lulling around.

"I shall have this palace brimming to the top with prestigious guests once Charming and his bride come along," The Queen mused as they left the ballroom. "I intend to give a celebration my nephew doesn't ever forget. And his wife, of course."

"I have invited Dukes, and Counts and other aristocrats. From our kingdom and even the neighboring ones. It is going to be a marvelous celebration. Reginald's such a modest when it comes to celebrations, his ball was honestly nothing at all as compared to the ones I organize here. You shall see that very soon, my dear."

Isa's heart pounded with relief as she held Archie's hand, gently steering him as she fell into step behind the Queen's form.

The celebration meant that Isadora would have a chance, if the King deters her, she can still have a chance with someone else. Her stomach clenched at the thought that the King might deter her, but who was she to not see it as a natural outcome? King Alexander Casimir was a King, he could deter how many ladies that he wanted. Why should that fact alter the course of Isa's sanity?

Besides, if he truly wanted something with her, she would not be feeling like this at present, she would not be making back up plans like her body and mind were objects to be auctioned off to the next bidder in sight, she would not feel so behind Cinderella like she did at present. Hadn't the both them met the Prince and the foreign King the same night?

There was no comparison between her stepsister's life and hers, Isa knew that, but that didn't mean she could not look at Prince Charming and think of him as impulsive yet decisive at the same time. He had secured Cinderella's entire future in one single night. He had built her entire life for her in a matter of few hours. He knew what he wanted, and though he was young, he had made and carried an unspoken promise through so fast that it had wrecked Lady Tremaine's psyche brutally.

King Alexander Casimir needn't be like that. He was older, and impulse was a wrong thing to expect from him. Mon Dieu, he needn't do anything that his cousin did at all. He need only just let Isa be so that she could secure her own options, build her own future. He should just let her be, because every hour he took in clutching her heart tighter in his grasp, he was butchering the only time she had. And every hour that she was letting him, she was gambling away Archie's future.

When the tour of the palace ended, it had darkened outside, and the Queen excused herself for the day, declaring that she had exerted herself and will be having some light dinner in bed.

Isa had managed an apology, and a well wish for her to feel better, to which the Queen had only offered a smile before she had pivoted and left, leaving Isadora in a hallway outside of the throne room, Archie's hand held securely in hers as she watched the Queen walk away with an attendee at her side.

Isadora exhaled softly, the sound of her breath seemingly echoing in this empty hallway. The palace was extravagant in it's decoration, yet it was utterly devoid of people. At King Reginald's palace back home when she had been summoned by King Alexander, the hallways were full of guards lined up. Maids rushed about in the back areas, footmen actively using the back foyer and the back garden area. But here, it felt as though the maids and footmen were forbidden to be seen in certain areas of the palace after a certain time.

Lucy had been engaged by the head of King Alexander's palace staff somewhere to do.. something. Isadora was to call on her when she had been relieved of the Queen's company, but now that Isa needed Lucy's presence in her periphery, she didn't know how to find her or who to ask to summon her.

Slowly, she turned to look at either ends of the hallway. Despite being given an elaborate tour with the history behind every room and most portraits described neatly with corresponding dates and timelines, Isa had no idea how to find her way back to her allotted chambers.

In an intricate clock adorned on the wall, she made note of the time. It was almost 7pm, which meant that it was time for Archie's dinner. She always fed him timely, berating herself if she was ever late.

But at present, her heart stirred in her chest. The Queen had relayed no news of dinner, except that of her own, and Isa hadn't seen King Alexander Casimir since they had arrived. Isadora and Archie were the only people seemingly present, and it didn't make sense for her to have dinner anywhere else than in her allotted chambers.

She swallowed thickly. Perhaps she could ask Lucy to bring something from the kitchens, that is of course, after she can find Lucy at all.

"Mama?" Archie spoke then, his thick soft voice echoing slightly in the silence of the hallway.

Isa looked at him as he squeezed her hand in his, his bright blue eyes gazing up at her in concern.

"I'm hungry," The boy spoke, his lips apart. "Will we have dinner?"

Isadora blinked, startled at the question. "Of course we will darling, let us find Lucy first, alright?"

She managed a smile for him, ridding herself of the haunting feeling engulfing her chest. She felt like a ghost detached from life, a ghost that had somehow found it's way stuck in between crevices of what life was supposed to be, trying to hard to get out but she was just plain stuck.

Then she began to walk, holding onto her son's hand. Perhaps she could ask for directions from a footman or a maid if they passed someone by. Perhaps she could put herself to sleep for a while after she'd made sure Archie had eaten. Perhaps she could shut her mind out for longer this time, and not for the shaky three hours she had barely gotten during the journey. Perhaps.

"We didn't even see the horses, mama," Archie's voice was low, full of heavy disappointment that hammered on Isa's heart painfully.

"I'm so sorry, my love," She managed, keeping her voice steady. "You know I would take you to see horses in town in Toulouse. But we are not at home right now."

She stopped and bent slightly to kiss the top of his hand, his bright glassy eyes peering into hers.

"We are guests here, and I know you were promised, but King Alexander is busy, darling, he does not have time-"

"I do have time," A third voice pierced the air, a thick and deep baritone that made Isa gasp as she straightened herself and turned to look at the source.

In front of her and Archie stood the collected form of the King she had been speaking off. He was dressed in a navy suit, the badges on his chest glittering like diamonds as he golden epaulettes stood a stark contrast on his shoulders. He was not wearing his crown, his dark hair messy yet presentable, his chocolate brown eyes glistening like gems as he looked straight into her eyes, his dark jaw tight.

"Your majesty," Isadora let out, dropping into a slow curtsey whilst still holding her son's hand, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

"I apologize, your majesty, I didn't see you-"

"I know you didn't," He broke through her sentence, her voice firm as he stepped closer, approaching both of them. His eyes dropped briefly to Archie and softened before he looked into Isa's eyes again.

"It is I who should apologize, my lady," The King spoke, his baritone intense. "I have been caught up in some tasks since arriving. But I sent a messenger to your chambers to inform you of the night's arrangement half an hour ago, but he seemed to have found it empty. It took me a while to locate you."

The night's arrangement?

"I take it mother was giving you a tour of the palace?"

"Yes," Isa managed, pinning a smile on her face though she was certain he could hear her pounding heart.

The King nodded.

"I hope she didn't bore you, mother is very attentive to details."

"No, your majesty," Isa blinked, speaking in haste. "It was a delightful time. Your palace is majestic."

A hint of a smile twitched at the edge of his lips as his eyes glinted into hers.

"I'm glad you approve of it."

"Now," He spoke, dropping his gaze to Archie and letting himself fully smile.

It stunned Isadora, the full wrath of his smile, though she had seen it before as well. But that seemed like a different time now. Here, he was the one at home. This was his element, his palace, his life. Here, his smile meant more-it shone more.

His dark skin gleamed gold and bronze as he met her eyes again.

"Please follow me, we have a special dinner in the gardens outside waiting for us. After which, I will be showing little Archie the stables and the horses."

The King unpinned his hands from behind his back, bringing one hand to ruffle slightly Archie's hair as the boy smiled brightly with anticipation.

"I'm sorry that I was occupied for so long and it has gotten dark now, but I'll have the entire stables lit up for you in no time."

"Thank you, Zander!" Archie's tone was ecstatic as she let go of Isa's hand and clapped his hands together in anticipation.

Alarm bells clanged in Isadora's chest then. Somehow, Archie calling the King with a name only the King's own mother seemed to use, in the King's own palace, made honest fear travel up her spine. She had read and been instructed, when she was younger, that Kings could have someone banished for life for such disrespect. And for a minute, Isa let her fear control her.

"Darling, no," She breathed, quickly taking hold of her son's hand again and squeezing it lightly.

Archie looked up at her, his excitement melting away slightly as he looked at her in confusion.

"Don't-," She breathed, dropping her voice to a whisper even though she knew there was no chance that the King, standing right in front, wouldn't be able to hear.

"He's the King," She finished her sentence, not knowing how else to correct him or word her sentence.

"Yes," King Alexander Casimir blurted out then, his voice hardening slightly as Isadora's eyes whipped towards him.

He was looking straight at her, displeasure and something else she couldn't name, swirling in his eyes.

"I am the King," He shook his head then. "But Archie will call me Zander."

He glanced briefly at Archie and smiled, before his eyes met Isa's again. "Archie will always call me Zander."

"Your majesty," Isadora spoke then, her voice wavering slightly as she thought of Queen Ariana and the woman's shifting nature.

"It isn't proper, Archie's only a child. It can be mistaken as disrespect."

"Disrespect," King Alexander Casimir repeated the word like it had been a curse uttered in Isa's tongue, his eyes dropping to the ground as he shook his head briefly before his eyes met hers again.

"I could kill for such disrespect from you, Miss Tremaine," He uttered, his jaw tight as his eyes bore into hers.

"I could kill just to hear you call me Zander, does that tell you how desperate I have gotten? Does that give you even an idea of the depths of my madness for you?"

Isadora broke their eye contact, her eyes dropping to the crimson carpet in the hallway underneath her feet briefly before she met the King's eyes again.

He had stepped back, gathering his composure and straightening himself. She saw a ripple in his neck as he swallowed.

"Please follow me to the gardens, our dinner awaits."

***

A/N:
happy weekend, i hope you guys have a wonderful week ahead<3