Yeara sat in the dining hall. The only sound in the quiet was the soft clinking of cutlery against her glass plate. She ate in silence, even though many thoughts were running through her head.
Why was she still thinking about that library?
She was wearing a sky-blue gown, the corset tight at her waist. The design of the gown was luxuriously perfect and foreign.
Her hair was let down, accompanied by a few curly strands in front and a beautiful pin to keep the little stylish braid in place. She looked even more elegant and sophisticated.
The maids were not outside the large dining hall, as Zalthor was not having dinner. They had been told to keep the queen company. They stood with heads bowed at the far end of the room, waiting for any command.
Yeara's hands paused, the spoon hovering near her lips, as her thoughts pulled her away from the food.
"But I promised that I would not go there… so why am I still thinking about it?" she said aloud subconsciously. Her lips parted as her eyes widened. Her head turned to the maids, whose heads remained low even with slight movements in their posture.
Her face flushed lightly with embarrassment. She pushed the food into her mouth, realizing she had forgotten others were present. Now she would be known as the queen who talks to herself. She took a napkin to her lips and slowly wiped them.
"Heavens, Yeara, get yourself together," she inwardly scolded herself.
The large door opened. Yeara's head rose, her chest lifting in anticipation.
Did he change his mind? she wondered, and for some unknown reason, a smile touched her lips. Her heart began to beat faster; she did not know why. Just the thought that Zalthor might come to eat with her made her chest flutter.
Her smile faltered slightly.
It was Ella.
Her smile returned. She could hardly believe her initial thought—had she really been beginning to develop feelings for Zalthor?
Ella's lips widened as her eyes landed on Yeara. Her soft steps echoed through the silent hall as she walked to the table. She was wearing a long, dark green gown, loose over her growing bump, which added to her warmth. She stopped in front of the table and curtsied softly.
"Your Grace," she greeted with a smile. Yeara managed a small smile in return.
"Lady Ella," Yeara greeted back. The truth was that she was slightly caught off guard. She was not used to this. Never would she have thought that a day would come when she would address her friend like this—or have her friend greet her as the queen.
Ella sat, taking a fork. She grabbed a small empty plate and slowly poked at the fruit as she served herself. Her gaze moved up as she spoke.
"Your Grace, I must say, you look exquisite," she said with a smile. Yeara nodded, returning the smile.
"Thank you, Lady Ella. Then I shall not hold back my thoughts and say—you make me want to get pregnant. You look so pretty in pregnancy," Yeara said truthfully. She had never seen a woman look this good while pregnant. Heavens… it makes me want to get pregnant.
But that would require the process…
Her hands halted as she realized what that process would entail… with Zalthor.
Her heart began to pound against her chest. She gulped her saliva, heat rising to her neck. She shook her head slightly, as if that would chase the thought away.
Ella giggled softly.
"Well, we would have to wait for that. I cannot wait," she spoke, and they both laughed. Yeara took a glass of water and gulped it down, staring at the reflection of her eyes in the glass before setting it back down.
"I cannot wait for your wedding, Your Grace. I am sure it will be one of a kind and definitely remembered in history," Ella said, her eyes glinting as she moved the well-shaped pineapple to her lips, biting into it. The juice burst sweetly in her mouth.
Yeara smiled. Thinking about it now made her laugh.
"Little Ella and Yeara would scold us," Yeara said, and Ella chuckled at her words.
"Oh, true… after the promise of not getting married. But we were only young back then," Ella said, a small smile forming on her lips.
"And thankfully, we can still do the things we wished for with our husbands."
Yeara nodded in agreement.
"Perhaps before your wedding, we may have a little tea party or go out to buy some lovely silk materials for fun," Ella's words trailed off as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, her eyes moving to Yeara, who had raised hers to look at her.
"Of course, that would be if the queen wishes to do so," she spoke. Yeara's lips pressed gently as her eyes scanned Ella's face. So much had changed. They had been apart for a long time, and it could not be the same as before.
"Of course. Just because I am queen does not mean I am not Yeara," she said, and they laughed.
"We shall have an evening tea today," she added. Ella smiled, though it was still morning. She knew they could not have tea now, and Ella might need a deep rest in the afternoon, being pregnant.
They finally ate in silence.
Yeara stood outside in the garden, her hands brushing against the petals of the flowers as the air caressed her face like a whisper. Ella had left earlier after being informed that her husband had called for her.
She knew that, given Zalthor was king, he would be very busy. Would this be how busy she would be once she became queen? she wondered.
Library.
Those words hit her mind, but she ignored them. Why was she still curious about that library—or… was it that man?
'No, Yeara, stop that. There are many other things to think of… like horses! Yes, horses,' she said to herself. After all, she could learn how to ride a horse and do lots of other things she had been forbidden to do back at the manor.
But why?
Just once… and I will never return there again, she finally said. She pulled her hands away from the sunflower. Her eyes moved to the side and noticed her personal maid—the one who usually helped her with her hair and guided her.
"Lily, you may leave," she spoke. The maid bowed gently, respecting the queen's need for personal space and fresh air.
Yeara pretended to watch the flowers as the maid departed. Once the maid left, Yeara turned her head back to the place. No one was there.
She looked around, making sure the coast was clear. Realizing no one was there, she quickened her steps, practically running toward the back of the castle, forgetting how unlady-like she appeared.
Her gaze landed on the small building. She lifted her gown slightly, careful not to step on it, as her eyes focused on the door.
"Just a little peek… just one peek," she whispered to convince herself.
Finally, she reached the door. Her heart beat faster as she looked around again, making sure no one was nearby. Her chest heaved as her hands tightened on the gown, hesitation hitting her.
"Leave now, Yeara," she said aloud, as if speaking could stop her. But her hands moved to the knob, and she slowly pushed it open.
The place was now bright—far brighter than she had expected. Perhaps it was because she had come here at night before, when it had been dark. Light came through the window, though it did not reach far.
A shiver ran down her spine. Her legs trembled as she looked down the stairs.
The door… was gone.
Just walls.