The silence in the royal chambers was deceptive—like a calm before the storm.King Alexander stood by the edge of the bed, his expression tight with frustration. Candlelight flickered across the marble walls, casting long shadows that seemed to echo the unrest brewing in the room. Queen Daniela sat on the edge of the plush mattress, her gown still wrapped modestly around her, her back turned to her husband.“Daniela,” Alexander said, trying to keep his voice calm, “it’s been weeks. I am your husband, your king. Must I always beg for something that should be ours by right?”She didn’t turn. Her voice was quiet but firm. “Being king does not entitle you to my body, Alexander. I’m not some prize to be claimed when convenient.”He took a step forward, the pressure in his chest threatening to spill into anger. “Convenient? You think this is about convenience? We are married, Daniela! You bear the title of queen, yet you shrink from your duties like a frightened maid.”“Duties?” she repeate
The palace was cloaked in silence as night swallowed the horizon. Alexander stood at the edge of the bedchamber, staring at Daniela as she slept beneath the silken sheets. Moonlight spilled through the arched window, casting a silver glow across her face, serene and untouched by the chaos that brewed inside him.He clenched the small clay vial in his hand—a second dose, hidden away in the folds of his royal robes. The first had slipped from his grasp earlier, shattering across the marbled floor. But the shrine man had prepared two, warning him: “This is not just powder. It is a betrayal of her will. Use it only when your soul can carry the burden.”Alexander’s grip tightened. Burden? The word haunted him.Was it a burden to fulfill destiny? To produce an heir for a kingdom that demanded tradition above all else?He moved closer to the bed, the vial shaking slightly in his palm. He stared at her peaceful face, remembering her words just days before—the defiance in her voice, the pain i
The evening air was cool,a soft breeze carrying the promise of winter.Gabriel sat in the living room of his house, a mug of coffee in hand, his thoughts filled on the message he had received earlier that day. Lydia had texted him a simple line:"Hey Gabriel, I was thinking of coming over to keep you company. I’ve been meaning to visit. Could you describe your house to me?"He stared at the message for a moment, the words sparking a smile that crept across his lips. He hadn’t expected her to reach out so soon, but the idea of spending time with her, just the two of them, seemed like a welcome distraction. He quickly typed a response:"That is a small thing ! My place is a beautiful mansion. When you walk in, you’ll see a large, open living room with big windows that let in tons of light. There’s a fireplace in the corner. I love it on chilly nights. The kitchen is open, with ceramic structure and lots of space, and a little island in the middle. Upstairs, I have a few bedrooms, but I
The sunlight streamed softly through the blinds, casting a gentle glow on the room as Lydia slowly stirred, the warmth of Gabriel's blanket still clinging to her. The previous night was like a dream,one of comfort, of ease, yet now it felt heavier. She wasn’t sure if it was the vulnerability she had let herself experience or the undeniable pull she felt toward Gabriel. As she opened her eyes fully, she realized the truth: this was no longer just a normal connection.She sat up slowly, taking in the room around her. The familiar scent of Gabriel’s perfume filled the air, mixing with the rich aroma of coffee that was brewing somewhere in the distance. Her body felt a little sore, but not in a bad way—more like she had been wrapped in a kind of tenderness she didn’t know she could enjoy.There he was, standing by the kitchen counter, making breakfast. His figure was calm and composed, but there was something about the way he moved,an easy grace that made her heart do a small sound in
The faint chirping of birds echoed from the distance, their songs slipping through the parted curtains of Gabriel's living room. A soft golden light painted the walls with warmth, and the scent of roasted coffee beans drifted lazily through the air. Lydia stirred on the couch, the thin blanket wrapped around her shifting slightly as she blinked into the sunlit room.For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then she heard the faint clinking of utensils from the kitchen.Gabriel.She sat up slowly, brushing her fingers through her hair and pulling the blanket closer. Her heart fluttered in a way she hadn't felt in a long time—not from fear or nervousness, but from something warmer, more intimate.She padded softly across the metallic floor, following the sound. There he was—in a plain grey shirt and joggers, sleeves pushed up, standing over the stove, pouring eggs into an attractive pan. His back was to her, but the way his shoulders moved, the way he hummed lowly to himself, made her
It began like a whisper in the wind—a vomiting feeling that stirred her from sleep just before dawn. Daniela pressed a hand to her mouth, the bile rising in her throat faster than she could process what was happening.She barely made it to the wooden basin in the corner of the room.Her knees hit the cold, cracked floor, and she doubled over, vomiting so violently that tears blurred her vision. Her stomach churned with a vengeance, as if her body had finally decided to betray the secret she'd been trying so hard to bury.When the nausea subsided, she wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand and sat back against the wall, panting.She knew.Every fibre of her being knew.The signs had been there—missed cycles, the sudden distaste for her favorite yam porridge, her aching breasts, and the odd fluttering sensation deep inside her. She had tried to dismiss them all. But this morning, her body screamed the truth she’d been too afraid to accept.She was pregnant.Her hands insti
The days crawled by like shadows at dusk, stretching slowly, painfully. Daniela’s world had grown quieter, heavier. Her stomach had begun to round out weeks ago, but she didn’t tell anyone not the villagers, not even herself in the mirror. Yet her body refused to keep the secret.The first time she vomited, it happened at dawn.She had barely stepped out of the hut when her stomach turned violently. She clutched a wooden pole for support, retched, and spewed the little pap she had managed to swallow the previous night onto the dry earth. She stayed bent over for minutes, gasping, weak, her knees trembling beneath her.She wiped her mouth with the edge of her wrapper, dazed.There was no hospital in the village—only a native healer and the whisper of herbs. But Daniela didn’t need a doctor to confirm it. She knew. Every slight shift in her body—the nausea, the soreness in her chest, the constant fatigue—was screaming the truth at her.She was pregnant.And the father… was Alexander.Th
The evening air was cool, filled in the softness of twilight. Streetlights blinked to life one by one like sleepy fireflies, and the city began to hum with night-time rhythms. Lydia adjusted her simple gown as she stepped out of the cab, her eyes searching for Gabriel among the small crowd gathered near the entrance of the vintage-style cinema.And there he was.Leaning casually against a pillar in a black hoodie, faded jeans, and that same scent she had grown addicted to—clean, crisp, something like sandalwood and secrets. The moment their eyes met, he straightened.“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes giving him away.“You say that every time,” Lydia replied, a smile tugging at her lips.“Because it’s always true.”They walked into the cinema together, side by side, but something lingered in the air between them. Something unsaid. Something heavy yet delicate.The movie hall was mostly empty—just a handful of scattered viewers. Gabriel had deliberately chosen a
The palace was quiet—too quiet. Even the birds that usually fluttered outside the grand windows of the king’s chamber were absent, as if nature itself mourned the weariness of the man within.Alexander sat on the edge of his bed, the heavy robe of royalty pooling around him like a shroud. The golden crown, once proudly perched upon his head, now lay abandoned on the floor, its polished surface reflecting nothing but a broken legacy.He had sent the servants away hours ago, requesting solitude. But truth be told, he had been alone for far longer than that—ever since Daniela left, ever since the boy vanished. Ever since he traded his humanity for power.The voices from the past echoed relentlessly in his mind."You want her to be queen? There is a way…""Put this powder in her drink. It will cloud her mind and draw her to you.""Rub this oil on your palms before you touch her—she will not resist.""You must act fast. The elders are watching. You need an heir."At the time, it all seemed
The palace was quieter these days—too quiet for a man who once ruled with noise, power, and pride. Alexander sat by his window, fingers toying with a half-filled goblet of wine. Outside, the moonlight brushed the edges of the thatched palace roof, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. Chisom had long drifted to sleep, her breathing soft, steady. But Alexander was wide awake—again.It had been six moons since she was brought to him, her skin soft as silk, her smile gentle, her body yielding. Each night, she came to his bed, and each night, he held hope in his loins and in his heart. But morning always came with the same bitter emptiness. No signs. No whispers of cravings. No swelling belly. No child.He had tried everything—spiced roots, fertility herbs from the palace medicine woman, and even late-night rituals performed by the native priest. Still… nothing.Alexander rose from the bed, pacing the cold marble floor with heavy feet. A fire burned in the hearth, but it did little to tha
The morning sun filtered through the bright white curtains of their new apartment, casting golden rays across the hardwood floor. Lydia stirred beneath the duvet, her hand instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed.Empty.She blinked, sat up, and glanced around. The soft scent of brewed coffee and toasted bread teased her nose. A smile curled on her lips.He’s in the kitchen again.Throwing on a light robe, she padded down the hallway and into the warm, open space where Gabriel stood shirtless, wearing joggers and flipping pancakes with an exaggerated chef’s flair.“You’re going to burn them,” Lydia teased, leaning against the doorframe.Gabriel turned, spatula in hand, and grinned. “And good morning to my beautiful wife.”She walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. “Good morning, chef husband.”He kissed the top of her head, then plated a stack of fluffy pancakes. “I thought we could eat on the balcony today. The sun’s not too harsh yet.”They
The early morning sun filtered through the intricate lattice windows of the palace, casting golden shapes across the polished floors. Drums beat faintly in the distance, signaling the dawn of a new day—and a new queen.Chisom sat quietly on the edge of a carved mahogany bed, her feet barely touching the polished ground. Around her, the royal maids fluttered like bees, tying her hair into delicate loops, rubbing her arms with perfumed oil, and whispering instructions she barely absorbed.“Your new robe, my queen,” one of the maids said, presenting a cloth woven with silver threads and royal blue patterns. “You must wear it before you greet the king.”Chisom nodded faintly, still unsure how to wear the title of "queen" in her heart. The palace air was thick—not just with incense, but with the weight of expectation. She could feel it in the walls, in the eyes of the elders who measured her with unspoken judgment, and in the stiff bow of the guards who had served another before her.As sh
The palace air brimmed with anticipation, thick like a brewing storm. Inside the grand hall, the scent of burning incense drifted from gold-plated bowls, curling in the air like whispers from the ancestors. Soft drums echoed in the background, played by two palace boys, steady and ceremonial. The marble floors had been scrubbed to glass-like shine, reflecting the rows of candles burning along the corridor.Alexander sat on the throne, robed in deep crimson, his royal crown resting heavy on his head. His face was unreadable—a mask of calm, yet behind his eyes, something stirred. Pain. Memory. Resignation. This was not how he envisioned choosing a queen.Beside him, a guard stood silently, holding a scroll with the names of the maidens. The chamberlain motioned, and the doors opened.One by one, the virgins began to enter.The first maiden, Awele, stepped forward with her head lowered, her feet bare, anklets chiming with each timid step. She was beautiful—smooth dark skin, full lips, an
The sky above the palace bled into a melancholic gray, the sun hiding behind thick clouds as though mourning with the king. The royal garden, once Daniela’s favorite place, stood untended. Wildflowers grew in stubborn defiance through cracks in the once manicured paths. The scent of blooming hibiscus clashed with the scent of time—that old, dusty silence that lingered in places where laughter had died.King Alexander stood still on the palace balcony, arms crossed behind his back, cloaked in heavy velvet. He wasn't the same man he was two years ago. The weight of loss had carved lines into his once-youthful face. His shoulders drooped beneath invisible burdens. Power still clothed him, yes, but it no longer fitted him like pride—it clung to him like grief.His eyes scanned the horizon—the same trail Daniela had once fled down with the child. The same trail the guards had failed to watch. His jaw clenched at the memory.Every now and then, he imagined seeing her figure walking back, ch
The evening of the engagement party felt like a dream to Lydia. The grand ballroom was bathed in warm, golden light. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, their glimmering reflections dancing across the polished marble floor. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, depicting stories of love, fortune, and legacy. Every corner of the room was carefully designed to evoke luxury, but it was the people who made it truly come alive.Guests murmured and laughed in soft clusters, champagne glasses clinking as they raised their toasts to Gabriel and Lydia. They had all come from different walks of life—wealthy socialites, business moguls, close friends of the family. But tonight, there was one thing that united them all: the promise of the future, the joining of two lives. Gabriel stood at the center of it all, a striking figure in a tailored suit, his posture confident but warm as he greeted guests. He was the picture of a man who had everything under control. But as his eyes scanned
The soft light of the morning sun was seen through the blinds, spilling its warmth over the living room of Gabriel’s apartment. Lydia sat on the sofa, her bare feet tucked under her as she scrolled through a wedding magazine, lost in thought. The room was filled with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the faint hum of the city outside only added to the quiet peace of the moment.Gabriel had just stepped out of the shower, a towel draped low on his hips, his hair still damp. He smiled as he saw her lost in the magazine, the occasional flutter of the page drawing her attention. It was one of those simple, perfect moments that made him feel like everything he’d ever wanted was right here.“You look like you’re plotting world domination,” Gabriel teased, stepping into the kitchen, his voice a warm caress.Lydia glanced up from the pages, offering him a playful scowl. “I’m plotting the perfect wedding, thank you very much. There’s a difference.”“Ah, my mistake,” he grinned, lean
Dark clouds thickened above the palace like a warning, casting long shadows that crept along the courtyard stones. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional rustle of dry wind against the banana trees that lined the palace fence.Alexander stood stiffly near the throne room window, eyes fixed on the sky. When the priest finally arrived, the guards ushered him in with reverence. The old man’s steps were slow, but his presence demanded respect. His hair, thick and snowy white, spilled down to his shoulders like ancestral feathers. His robe, dyed deep maroon with sacred herbs, carried the scent of ancient incense.He bowed slightly, then looked up. His eyes—milky but sharp—settled on Alexander’s face. “You sent for me, Your Highness?”Alexander gestured toward a mat. “Sit. There is trouble in the land.”The priest slowly lowered himself, folding his legs under him. “I know,” he said softly, voice like wind brushing through dried leaves. “The spirits whispered last ni