Alek compelled attention like a black hole, sucking everyone, everything—all the light—into his vortex and onwards he spun, ever more powerful. But she also felt the people watching her, assessing, judging—she could only hope she passed. After a tour of the ward, they spent some time in the hospital classroom where a few children sat at tables working on drawings. At a table near the back, she could see the small boy who’d been hurried away at their arrival. With the ‘freedom’ to walk around, Hester gravitated towards where he was, subdued and firmly under the control of the teacher standing beside him. Belligerent sadness dimmed his eyes. Hester didn’t make eye contact with the teacher, she just took the empty chair at his table. She drew a piece of paper towards her and selected a pencil to colour in with. The boy paused his own colouring to watch her work then resumed his until they reached for the same emerald pencil.
‘I think it’s a really nice colour,’ she said softly, encouraging the boy to take it.
‘It’s my favourite,’ he muttered.
‘Mine too,’ she whispered with a conspiratorial smile. ‘But don’t tell anyone.’
She glanced up and encountered Alek’s inscrutable gaze. She’d not realised he was nearby.
‘Time for us to leave, Hester,’ he bent and said quietly. ‘But we’ll come back again.’
As they were driven back to the palace he turned in his seat to study her face. She was sure it was only for all those cameras along the route.
‘You did very well. Again,’ he said.
She inclined her head with exaggerated regal poise to accept the compliment.
He suddenly laughed and picked up her hand, playing with the ring on her finger in an intolerably sweet gesture. ‘I mean it. Being able to make someone smile or respond—to make a connection like with that boy who’d been distressed?’ Alek nodded. ‘That was skilled.’
‘Not skilled.’ Hester shook her head. ‘I had no clue. I just tried to give him the time to let him get himself together.’
‘Natural kindness, then.’ Alek ignored the photographers calling outside the car as it slowly cruised through the crowd. ‘You told him your favourite colour. Or was that just a lie to make him feel good?’
She paused. ‘It was the truth.’
‘So you could tell him something you couldn’t tell me?’
She paused, startled by the soft bite in that query. ‘Have I hurt your feelings?’ She tried to deflect him with a smile.
‘Yes.’
She shot him a worried glance. Surely he was joking? He intently watched her—not smiling, not glowering either.
‘I just wanted to be kind to him.’ She drew in a breath. ‘Some people get all the attention, right? The loud ones, or the ones confident enough to smile and call out, and the ones who have the tantrums like him. The ones I feel bad for are the quiet ones—who don’t push forward or act out, who are so busy being good or polite or scared…sometimes they need to know someone has seen them and I didn’t today.’
‘I did,’ he said softly. ‘I went around and saw some of those ones.’
Of course he had—because he’d been doing it all his life. Sharing his attention.
‘Were you one of those kids?’ he asked. ‘One who was being so good she became invisible?’
‘Good but not good enough?’ She wouldn’t have minded being that kid. ‘No, that wasn’t me.’
‘I can’t see you confidently calling out things in front of everyone.’
‘No, not that one either.’
‘Tantrums?’ He lifted an eyebrow and sent her a sideways smile. ‘No? But what else is there?’
In the safety of the car, riding on the success of her morning and the fact the worst of today was now over, she was relaxed enough actually to answer. ‘I was the kid who ran away.’
He watched her. ‘You really mean it.’
‘I really do.’ She drew in a slightly jagged breath, regretting the confession.
‘Did they find you and bring you home again?’
‘They had to,’ she replied lowly. ‘I was young and they had an image to maintain. But that didn’t stop me trying again.’
‘Did you ever succeed in running away for good?’
‘Eventually, yes.’
She wanted to gaze out of the window. She wanted to end this conversation. But his coal-black eyes were so full of questions that she couldn’t answer and so full of compassion that she didn’t have the strength to pull back from him either.
‘Will you run away if you don’t like it here?’ he asked.
‘No. I’m grown up now and I’ll see this through.’ She made herself smile and clear the intensity. ‘I think it’s more likely that you’ll banish me like your ancestor did his rebel Queen.’
To her relief, he followed her lead and laughed. ‘I have to banish you to her castle. I’ll take you after dinner. It’ll be a dark-windowed car tonight. Tomorrow is the glass carriage.’
‘The fairy-tale element?’
‘Absolutely.’
* * *
After another dinner devoted to preparation and planning, this time with several advisors attending and in which Alek refused to release her hand, they were driven to the castle on the edge of the city for Hester’s final night as a single woman.
‘Welcome to Queen Aleksandrina’s home.’ Alek spread his arms wide as the enormous wooden doors were closed behind them.
Hester knew the story of Aleksandrina well. Her marriage had taken place after the King’s coronation and was such an unmitigated disaster that a law had been passed stipulating that any future prince could not claim the King’s throne before being married. Furthermore, at the King’s coronation, his bride must bow before him—before all his other subjects did; she was to be prime symbol of deference to his rule. It was appalling, but ‘tradition’.
‘The rebel Queen who defied her husband and decided to build her own castle at the other end of town?’ Hester nodded in approval. ‘She sounds amazing.’
Alek grinned. ‘You know I’m named after her?’
‘Really?’ That surprised her. She’d thought the rebel Queen was frowned upon. ‘And you don’t want to live here?’
She hoisted her little backpack
