6. Myra

After the attack Alexandra informed my father through a carrier pigeon and at least a dozent man on horses, decked in armour and weapons arrived. Now I am back in the carriage but not alone this time. My fearless knight sits on the bank opposite me. In front and behind my vehicle are more knights. None of them look as good as Alexandra.
Her face is all scrunched up. Eyebrows drawn together, nose wrinkled and lips thin and stiff. But she does not look less lovely.
She looks at me, noticing my stare and suddenly her face turns soft. Her eyebrows are still furrowed, yet she doesn’t look angry anymore. She looks. . . confused.
“What was your fight, this morning, with General Darius about?, I blurt out. The question has been on my mind since I witnessed the argument . Because her face is as beautiful as it is scary when she’s angry, I didn’t dare ask.
She stiffens. Her eyes, however, stay soft. “We had differing opinions. That is all.”
“About what?” Her eyes stay on me for a few seconds. It’s the same my father always gives me when I try to insert myself into anything remotely political. And the same one my sister always uses when she talks about our mother. The mother that is as much a mother as my maid is, never leaving her chambers, never wanting to see me. She doesn’t matter any more. Not when I never mattered to her.
Closing her eyes and sighing, she adds : “The General insisted on taking the main roads. After what happened yesterday, I disagreed. He wasn’t too happy about it.” And he didn’t listen. To differ with his opinion, even in the slightest, can have serious consequences. Why she still took that upon herself is a mystery to me.
“Does anyone know about this?” I didn’t know this was possible but her face is even softer now. Her voice is gentle and the way she touches her throat, the spot where her vocal cords should be, makes me want to feel her fingers on my own. My face, my hair, my body. Anywhere and everywhere.
She doesn’t take her eyes off me. Something washes over them. Was it understanding? I don’t know but it is that same emotion she always wore on her face when I snuck her into my garden at night to show her my new flowers.
“What do you think?” The question comes out harsher than I intended. The women never gave me anything but empathy. A skill my own father lacked. The least I can do is be friendly in return.
“I just need to know if the knights can be aware of it .” Out of habit I want her to be quiet about it. I want her to carry my secret for me, so it is not so unbearable. But one look at her is enough to let the words get stuck in my throat. Her gaze is open. She didn’t hesitate to help me. The way she always did when we were kids. Now she asks me if I’m comfortable sharing this information with others as If it isn’t something silly, something unfit for a queen. A long time ago I wanted to be as brave as her. That wish never went away, I just buried it deep down. Maybe it’s time to think about what I want and not the wishes of my father. So instead of denying myself, I say: “They can know. Do not hide it.”