That night didn't bring any rest. Just silence.

Queen Ella reclined on the side of the bed, completely still, but her mind was busy with thoughts. The burden of the day was heavy upon her breast--the marriage, the feast, the never-ending questions, and the manner in which King Augustine had looked at her, as though he knew it all.

The king, lying next to her, had at last fallen asleep. She observed it slowly. Initially, it was merely the stillness. Then she heard the regular rhythm of his breathing, restrained and nearly too perfect to be that of a man at rest.

Queen Ella glanced over her shoulder, lest she should wake him. She observed him. Even in sleep, there was nothing casual about him. His face was determined, his pose stiff, so that even when asleep he could not relax his vigilance. Even in his dreams, a dangerous man.

With a little sigh she turned her back. She should have slept easily after such a long day but it eluded her. Whenever she shut her eyes, the memories came back to her-flames, screams, the palace falling round her, the voice of her father, firm and authoritative, telling her to live.

Her hands were clasped together. Survive. And that was what she had done. And that was what she was doing still. However, this night was different. It was the first night since then that she was not sure who her real enemy was.

Queen Ella closed her eyes. Minutes went by--it might have been minutes, or more. Sleep touched her, and slipped away again. She awoke her eyes. The room appeared the same, but the candles had been lowered, and their light was less strong and cast long shadows on the walls.

She moved a little, taking care not to disturb him, but even then that little movement brought her to remember how close he was. Too near. Her eyes went back to him, to his back, to the scar which she could just make out under the loose cloth. Jagged. Unforgiving. A flashback of that evening and what she thought he had done.

Her chest tightened. Out of war, he had said. But she had known.At least. she thought so. Or at least... she thought she did.

Queen Ella quickly looked away, trying to shove her thoughts back. No. She could not spare the suspicion. Skepticism was a sign of weakness and weakness might be her death.

Hours dragged on. The night was interminable. Sleep was in bits--short, shallow, and disjointed. Whenever she fell asleep, she woke up. Whenever she awoke, she looked around the room, the door, and him. Still there. Still asleep. Still-watching?

The thought made her freeze.

Queen Ella glanced round, thoughtfully. He hadn't moved. His breathing was regular. But there was something wrong. Too still. Too quiet.

Her heart started beating.

She sat up slowly, the bed shifting slightly beneath her, but he didn't react. Still asleep.

Queen Ella swung her feet to the floor, and her movements were quiet and restrained. The chill of the surface on which she lay brought her to her senses. She needed air. Space. Distance.

She stepped towards the window, every step being light and calculated, and she listened to see whether anything was going on behind her. There was none.

As she got to the window, she put her hand on the frame and peeped out. The sky was black and silent, and the dim silhouette of the palace grounds was hardly visible below. Peaceful. Deceptive. Nothing was safe about this place.

"You don't sleep."

The voice was behind her, and she instantly stood still. She stopped to catch her breath.

Slowly, she turned.

Augustine was no longer lying down, but sat up, and looked full at her. Awake. Watching.

Her pulse quickened.

You were up, she said to herself.

"Not at first."

His answer was calm. Too calm.

How long, she said.

A pause. Then-

"Long enough."

The words were heavy in the air. The fingers of Queen Ella clenched together. And so he had been observing her, examining her, even in the darkness.

Why feign to sleep? she inquired.

King Augustine stood, without haste, as though he had been anticipating this.

To know what thou wouldost do, he answered.

Shivers ran along her spine.

"And? What have you learnt?

He moved near, not hastily, not menacingly, but intentionally.

I found out you do not believe in what is around you, he said, and took another step. That you wake frequently. That you look about as a person who fears an attack.

He stopped in front of her, close-too close.

And above all, he said, his voice a little lower, you act as though you had a secret.

Queen Ella stood still with her heart thudding, yet her face was calm.

You are watchful, you are watchful, she said.

And you are wary, he answered.

There was a silence between them that was tense and unforgiving.

And then he stretched out.

Queen Ella stood still, but rather than his hand touching her face, it touched her wrist, only once,--enough to make her feel her pulse, which was rapid and uncontrolled.

He noticed. Of course he did.

You are afraid, he said to himself.

Queen Ella withdrew her hand. "I am cautious."

"Of me?"

"Yes."

The response was too easy. King Augustine gazed long at her.

"No." he said.

The silence was definite, sure.

Thou hast no fear of me.

The breath of Queen Ella came a little short.

Then what is it I fear?

There was another, longer pause, more calculated.

The truth. he said.

The term hit home more than it ought to have. Queen Ella was aware of it--painful and rough. It seemed real because it felt so in a moment.

The morning sun started to creep through the window, soft and pale, inevitable. The night was over, but whatever this was between them-it wasn't.

Augustine swiveled his head around, and looked at the light and then at her.

"You didn't sleep," he said.

"Neither did you."

There was a slight change in his face--almost a smile.

I did not, unlike you, he said.

Queen Ella scowled a little. "Why?" she asked

His response was prompt.

I wanted to see you.

She stopped her breath, but this time it was not fear. It was not that--it was not what she understood.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

A voice called to you, Your Majesty. The council is waiting.

King Augustine didn't look away from his wife Queen Ella.

Wait, he said, tell them to wait.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Footsteps died away, and silence fell again.

But not for long.

This time he came still nearer, nearer than before--near enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence, near enough that there was no distance between them.

His eyes fell a moment on her mask and then went back to her eyes.

I shall ask thee, I will ask thee, he said.

The heart of Queen Ella beat.

"If I remove this..."

His hand rose once more, slow and deliberate.".what shall I find?

"...what will I find?"

All in her cried to retreat, to flee, to halt him. But she didn't move. She couldn't move. Something had told her that running now would make everything true.

So she stood and looked up at him.

Thou shalt find thy queen, she said.

Silence.

Then a little change of expression--not faith, not unfaith, but something between.

And again he dropped his hand.

This time, however, it was not a distance, but decision.

Quite all right, I said. "For now."

The words gave her a chilly shiver. They were not a culmination, but a commencement.

King Augustine was about to turn and go, but Queen Ella stood where she was, her heart still a-throbbing, her mind confused. He was coming nearer--nearer than she had intended, nearer than she was prepared. And one false step she made, and all would have been ruined.

The door opened and closed behind her.

Queen Ella took a breath, the first one she had breathed since she had entered the palace.

But the question was--heavy and inevitable--more dangerous than ever--

how many days would she be able to conceal herself before the king who knows all sees her?

The council room was colder than the rest of the palace--not physically, but in feeling.

The stone walls were high, and hung with banners heavy with history and power. Long, dark wooden table ran through the middle, and men sat there not easily to be frightened--not even by kings.

King Augustine was at the end of the table.

Silent.

Observing.

Waiting.

Even before his entrance murmurs filled the room, and they did not abate when he entered.

"She conceals her face."

Such a thing has never been done by any queen of this kingdom.

"It is... unnatural."

Augustine replied not at all.

His eyes swept slowly over the council, and caught each face, each expression, each hidden purpose. Others were just curious.

Others were not.

Then a voice, higher than all the others--calm, commanding, and certainly dangerous.

"Your Majesty."

It was Lord Ferguson.

One of the most ancient of the council--and one of the most difficult to quiet.

Augustine turned and looked at him.

Ferguson bowed his head a little, a i of deference which was rather a sign of duty than of affection.

We know what is going on with your marriage, he started, his voice placid, but the court is growing impatient.

He paused deliberately.

A queen who does not show her face begs to be questioned.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Unforgiving.

Augustine sat up a little in his chair, and his face was indescribable.

And when, he said to himself, does pain prescribe power?

His words fell lightly--yet with impact.

No one spoke.

Still, Ferguson continued.

Perception makes loyalty, Your Majesty, with respect. Should the people start to distrust their queen--"

"They will not."

The break was instantaneous.

Final.

The room stilled.

All eyes were on the king.

Augustine again touched his fingers on the armrest.

I have seen my queen, said he.

The statement was simple.

Deliberate.

"There is nothing to question."

There was a wave of the council. Some nodded.

Others exchanged glances.

All were not convinced.

Ferguson looked a little keenerly.

"As you say, Your Majesty."

But skepticism was under his word.

Augustine noticed.

Of course he did.

Silence stretched.

Then-

My word ought to be clear enough.

No one argued.

But the strain was there.

Alive.

Unsettled.

You have seen her face, another council-member said cautiously. Surely, Your Majesty, there was nothing wrong in bringing her to the court.

Augustine turned his eyes to him.

My queen is no spectacle.

The words were serene.

Firm.

Ferguson bent forward a little.

Naturally not, he replied. "But transparency builds trust."

Pressure.

Subtle.

Relentless.

Augustine stood on his feet.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The room was quieted only by the movement.

My queen hath no explanations to make to this council, he said.

His gaze hardened.

"Nor do I."

No one spoke.

No one challenged him.

Since at that time, it was not debate that filled the room--

It was control.

Without another word, Augustine turned and walked out.

The doors shut behind him with a last silence.

The passageway was quiet.

Too silent.

Augustine strolled slowly on, without haste, his face unaltered.

But his mind was not.

He had not to listen to the remainder of the council.

He had already caught sight of them.

Doubt.

Suspicion.

Calculation.

It was only a matter of time.

"My King."

The voice was behind him.

Augustine stopped.

Slowly, he turned.

A servant was a few steps away, her head was bent down, her hands clasped together in front of her. She was indecisive, as though she was not quite sure that she ought to have spoken at all.

"What is it?" Augustine asked.

His voice was calm.

But it had substance.My King. there is talk.

The servant swallowed.

"My King... there is talk."

Of course there was.

Everybody talks, he said.

But she shook her head.

"This is different."

That stilled him.

"Speak."

The servant raised her eyes only a little--not so much as to show the fear in her eyes.

They are saying, she said, and then, with difficulty, uttered the words, That Your Majesty has not really seen the queen.

Silence followed.

Still.

Sharp.

Augustine made no motion.

"They believe." she continued, her voice lowering, ".that what was said in the council was not. the truth."

The words hung in the air amid them.

Dangerous.

Unavoidable.

Nothing happened a moment.

Then Augustine made a gradual step.

The servant bowed her head once more.

Who is talking? he said.

His voice did not change.

But something under it did.

The servant hesitated.

It is spreading, my King, it is spreading, said she. Among the servants. and more.

Not one voice.

Not one source.

That made it worse.

Gossip might be suppressed.

Doubt could not.

Augustine made no reply.

Then-

"Let them talk."

The words were silent.

Controlled.

But final.

The servant looked a little surprised.

Augustine turned his eyes away, and now was far, and reckoning.

Because this-

This was no longer what was true.

It was concerning what would be thought.

Go back to work, he said.

"Yes, my King."

She curtsied and went.

Augustine stayed where he was.

Still.

Thinking.

He had been questioned by the council.

The palace was now starting to question him.

And soon-

The kingdom would be the successor.

There was a slight, hardly noticeable change in his face.

Not anger.

Not concern.

Something sharper.

Something more dangerous.

Since they thought he had told a lie--

Then he would choose what truth substituted it.

The palace was silent.

Not that quiet of peace.

This one bore something more--something alert, something that lingered in the intervals between footsteps and behind lowered tones.

King Augustine passed the corridor with a calm pace, his face unchanged, his pose as calm as ever. He did not seem to have been affected by what had happened in the council chamber to anyone who was watching.

But his thoughts were anything but still.

They know you lied.

The words were already in place.

Not all of them.

Not yet.

But enough.

Danger enough to start assuming form.

He stood in front of the high windows that looked out on the inner court. The light of morning fell upon the stone floor, pale and thin, and could not warm the extremities of the palace.

One hand behind his back, he stood in silence.

He had been questioned by the council.

The palace was starting to talk.

And now the lie was on the move.

Doubt in itself did not bother Augustine. Doubt was expected. Powerful men were never left unnoticed, gauged, weighed against rumor and anticipation.

It was a question of control.

And power was starting to change.

"Your Majesty."

A guard was standing a little way behind him.

Augustine made no turn. "Speak."

The guard said, We have started watching the council as you said. Lord Ferguson has already seen two of them this morning privately.

Of course he had.

"And?"

They are questioning about the queen.

Silence.

Predictable.

Keep on watching, said Augustine. Not the loudest voices--the quiet ones. The ones that other people listen to.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

And Ferguson, Augustine added, his voice becoming a little sharper. I would like to know all he does before he does it.

The guard bowed. "At once."

The footsteps faded.

Augustine stood still with his head stretched out.

Ferguson was not wanton.

This would not stop, said he.

It would grow.

He finally turned around and walked towards the chambers of the queen.

Ella saw it even before she realized it.

Not in words.

Not in anything addressed to her.

But in silence.

The corridors changed as she had entered them.

Servants bowed, as they always bowed--but now their eyes lingered a moment too long before they dropped.

Two maids standing together hushed as she passed.

One of the guards by the archway straightened, as though he had been caught at some mischief.

Nothing obvious.

Nothing that she could face.

But enough.

Sufficient to her knowledge.

Something had changed.

When she had gone back to her chamber the feeling had become certain.

The council.

The king.

The lie.

She walked up to the window, her hands mere brushes of the material of her sleeve as she gazed out over the palace grounds.

He lied on her behalf.

The idea came back.

Unwelcome.

Unsettling.

Such a man as Augustine did not do in vain.

Each word he uttered was weighty.

Each silence was intentional.

So why protect her?

The door was opened behind her.

Ella twitched a little, but did not turn immediately.

She had guessed who it was.

You have observed, Augustine, said.

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

She turned slowly. I had no need to be told.

His eyes were fixed on her, and were unreadable.

Now they are looking at you, he said.

They were ever on the lookout, she answered.

"Not like this."

There was a moment of silence between them.

Ella crossed her arms. "You lied to them."

It wasn't a question.

Augustine shut the door. "Yes."

She was surprised by the simplicity of the answer.

"Why?" she asked.

He did not answer immediately.

Rather, he moved deeper into the room and his presence occupied the room without any effort.

Since the truth would have provided them with a reason, he said.

"For what?"

"To act."

Ella held his gaze.

"And now?"

Now, he said, they have nothing but doubt.

The words sank.

She turned away, her thoughts tightening

Worse still, doubt is worse, she said to herself.

To them, he said.

"For me."

That made him pause.

Just briefly.

But she noticed.

She glanced back at him. You left me the centre of their suspicion.

I made you more difficult to get at, he corrected.

The contrast bothered her.

She took a step closer.

You are talking like you are defending me.

"I am."

The response was too easy.

Too directly.

Ella looked at him attentively. "From what?"

Augustine never turned his head.

And what becomes of strong men when they suspect that you have something to conceal.

A shiver ran along her.

Since she was aware that he was correct.

He stepped closer.

To touch not enough.

Sufficient to move the air between them.

The council will not cease, he added. And Ferguson will not tarry.

Ella's pulse quickened. "You sound certain."

"I am."

Silence fell again.

Heavy.

Then gradually his hand rose.

Ella stilled.

His fingers were close to the edge of her mask.

Not touching.

Not yet.

What changes, I said to myself, should I take this away?

Her breath caught.

Everything.

You have no right to ask that, she said.

A pause.

Then-

"No," he agreed.

His hand lowered.

Control. Always control.

Ella gave a breath that she had never known she was holding.

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Acting as if you know something I don't."

His gaze held hers.

"I do."

She was frustrated.

"Then say it."

His response was swift.

"No."

The rejection was like a wall between them.

At last he withdrew.

Tomorrow night, there will be a gathering, he said.

Ella frowned. "The council?"

"The court," he corrected. "Which makes it worse."

Understanding settled slowly.

They desire to visit me.

They desire to criticize you.

Her hands clenched a little.

"And you're going to let them?"

Augustine's expression did not change.

I will leave it to them to believe that they have an opportunity.

The words were colder than she thought.

You are making this a game.

"No," he said. "I'm ending one."

Silence followed.

He walked to the door.

When anyone asks you point-blank, then tell him nothing.

"And if they don't stop?"

His hand was on the door.

"They will."

She frowned. But how are you certain?

He looked over his shoulder at her.

I want to know who dares.

And then he left.

The door closed.

Ella stood in her place.

Still.

Thinking.

The deception had not saved her.

It had exposed her.

The palace was now on the lookout.

The court was in waiting.

and somewhere out of it--

Somebody was about to find out the truth.