All Chapters of The Gaze of a King : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

As I slowly sip from my goblet of wine, I avoid the glaring eyes burning holes through my skin. King David seems to be unaware of the blazing stares cast my way. He seems oblivious to the shame and disgrace he has publically shown his first wife Michal, by having me sit at his right side. The air is rife with tension. If looks could kill, I would be drowning in a pool of blood at Michal's feet. Her eyes are not the only pair that I intentionally avoid, though. My grandfather sits at the en

Four weeks later...The doors of my chambers creak open. I spin on my heels to find a feeble elderly woman slowly making her way towards me when shaky steps. She carries something within the clutch of her weathered hands. I glide towards her effortlessly, wishing to spare her the trouble of having to cross the distance between us.

"Stop. I don't want any of this written down," The King snaps at the scribe.His beady eyes widen and he fumbles with his quill. Accidentally, he splatters his bottle of ink onto the harsh throne room floor. When he stoops to clean the oozing black liquid, seeping into the tile cracks, he releases a quiet murmur from his crusted lips.

Peering past the smooth marble column, I catch sight of a sculpted warrior ripping through the corridor as if his heels were on fire. Dirt, scars, and sweat cloak his olive-toned skin. I instinctively tug the light silky fabric, draping over my head, closer against my cheek.I cannot risk being recognized. If I am I will be escorted back to the King's chambers. The air in there is stifling. Each breath has become forced and heavy. The walls seem to be closing in on me more and more each day. At

I am exhausted by the time I return to my chambers. The atmosphere inside is stale and chilled. There has been no fire to cleanse the air and keep the cold at bay. A shiver creeps down my spine. My natural inclination is to cross the threshold and dive under the silky covers of my bed. I hesitate when I reach the foot of my bed. Memories come rushing back to me.I run the tips of my fingers along the smooth surface of my covers. The fear that coursed through my veins that fateful night begins to