The Queen’s Heart
The summer deepened.
The days grew long, the nights grew short, the sun grew hot. The garden flourished, the people prospered, the kingdom healed. But Rhaena did not rest.
She could not rest.
The Withering was sleeping, but she could feel it dreaming beneath the earth, beneath the stones, beneath the silence. It was waiting. It was watching. It was hungry.
She walked through the city each day, her hands in the soil, her face to the sun. The people followed her. They worked beside her. They hoped with her.
She was their queen.
She was their hope.
She was their heart.
Corin found her at the edge of the garden.
“Your Grace, the lords are asking for a celebration.”
“A celebration?”
“The first harvest. The end of winter. The return of hope.”
“The people are still hungry.”
“The people are still hopeful.”
“Then let them celebrate.”
The celebration was held in the great hall.
The lords wore their silks and velvets. The ladies wore their jewels and crowns. The servants wore their best aprons and caps. The people wore their smiles.
Rhaena sat in the simple chair of oak and iron, the crown on her head, her hands folded in her lap. She did not dance. She did not sing. She did not feast.
She watched.
Theron stood in the shadows.
“Your Grace, you are not celebrating.”
“I am watching.”
“Watching what?”
“The people. Their faces. Their smiles. Their hope.”
“Is it not enough?”
She was silent for a long moment.
“It is everything.”
Elara approached.
Her red hair was bright, her green eyes were clear, her hands were warm.
“Your Grace, the children are asking for you.”
“Again?”
“Again.”
“What do they want?”
“The same thing they always want. Stories. Songs. Hope.”
“Then give them stories. Give them songs. Give them hope.”
“They want them from you.”
Rhaena stood.
She walked to the children.
They gathered at her feet, their faces uplifted, their eyes bright.
“Tell us a story,” they said.
“Tell us about the winter.”
“Tell us about the fire.”
“Tell us about the hope.”
She knelt.
She touched their faces.
“The winter was long,” she said. “The cold was deep. The hunger was cruel. But we survived. We survived because we hoped. We survived because we loved. We survived because we remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
She looked at the crown on her head.
“That we are not alone.”
The children cheered.
The adults wept.
The lords watched.
Rhaena returned to her chair.
The crown was heavy.
Her heart was full.