That evening, Queen Ashley, a vision of beauty that captivated all who laid eyes upon her. Draped in a gown of silk that shimmered like starlight, she turned to her husband, King Torin, who regarded her with a gaze filled with love and admiration. His smile was a soft beacon in the quiet of their chamber, illuminating the space as if to reflect the warmth of his heart.
"How do I look?" she inquired, her voice a melodic whisper.
"You look as beautiful as ever, my queen," he replied, his tone rich with affection.
"Where are you off to?" he asked, taking a step closer, his curiosity piqued.
"It's the weekend, my love. I'm heading to the orphanage to spend time with the children and oversee the palace's philanthropic efforts," she answered, her eyes sparkling with purpose.
King Torin, unable to resist her charm, embraced her tenderly, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. "Don't stay long, my queen," he murmured, the words laced with a hint of longing.
With a smile, she adjusted his garments, her fingers brushing against his shoulder as she gazed into his eyes. "I won't, my love," she assured him.
"I will be bored without you," the king confessed, a hint of playful sorrow in his voice.
"I will call Finley to play for you until I return," she suggested, her fingers brushing against his lips, leaving a trace of warmth.
"But that won't cover for the absence of my queen," King Torin interjected, a playful frown crossing his face.
As she made her way to the door, she summoned a guard to fetch Finley, the palace's harpist. With a final smile, Queen Ashley stepped out of the chamber, her heart as light as the morning breeze.
Moments later, Finley entered, the doors closing behind him like the hushed curtains of a stage. He began to weave a beautiful melody, his deep baritone voice echoing around the chamber, wrapping King Torin in a blanket of enchanting sound. The king closed his eyes, allowing the music to transport him to a world where only harmony existed.
In another part of the palace, Queen Elara summoned her maid, Olivia. "Prepare me for a walk around the palace; I feel heavy within me," she instructed, her voice tinged with an unusual urgency.
Once Olivia had finished dressing her hair and adjusting her gown, Elara admired her reflection in the mirror, then turned to her maid. "Thank you, Olivia. You've done well."
"Shall we?" Elara asked, her spirit buoyant despite the weight she felt within.
Olivia hesitated, sensing an unspoken tension. As they approached the door, Elara suddenly collapsed. Olivia screamed for help, her voice piercing the silence of the grand halls.
Duke, who had been passing by, rushed into the chamber. "What happened?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern.
Olivia, nearly in tears, explained, "She wished to take a walk and fell as she approached the door."
He quickly gathered Elara in his arms, laying her gently on the bed. "Fetch the physician!" he ordered, panic rising in his chest. "Lara, please stay with me," he whispered, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
A few moments later, Zorvath, the palace physician, entered with urgency. After a thorough examination, he mixed a concoction of herbs and liquids, chanting incantations that filled the room with a mystical air. Turning to Duke, he said, "She will be fine. She needs rest and nourishment to maintain the health of her baby."
"Baby?" Duke echoed, bewildered.
Zorvath, noticing Duke's surprise, smiled knowingly. "Yes, she carries a child."
Joy surged through Duke, and he instinctively hugged Olivia in excitement. Realizing his boldness, he retreated, flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, that was a mistake," he stammered, a deep crimson staining his cheeks.
"No offense taken, Your Majesty," Olivia replied, bowing her head in humility.
"Is there anything else?" Zorvath asked before departing. "Should you need me, do not hesitate to call."
Duke approached Elara's side, gazing at her serene face. "Soon we will be parents," he murmured, a smile breaking through the worry etched on his brow.
"I must tell my parents this good news," he said, turning to Olivia. "Look after my wife while I'm gone." He exited, unable to contain his excitement.
Duke burst into the royal chamber, his heart racing with the thrill of impending fatherhood. But the sight that met his eyes froze him in place. His father, King Torin, and Finley were locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies entwined in a moment that shattered Duke's expectations.
"What the…!" Duke exclaimed, disbelief flooding his voice.
King Torin, startled, scrambled away from Finley, shame washing over his features as he hastily covered himself. "Duke, this isn't what it looks like," he stammered, panic lacing his tone.
"Really?" Duke scoffed, his voice thick with disdain.
Finley, sensing the storm brewing, stepped forward, his face a mask of desperation. "Duke, please, your father and I—"
"Don't you dare," Duke roared, cutting him off. "What kind of man does this? What kind of king?"
King Torin's composure shattered further as he rose from the bed, his guilt palpable. "Duke, I know this is shocking, but I care for Finley. It's complicated."
"Complicated?" Duke echoed, his voice rising in anger. "You've betrayed the trust of my mother, your wife, for what? A fleeting moment of pleasure with someone who can never be yours?"
Finley stepped closer, pain etched across his features. "Duke, I love your father. He loves me. We're not hurting anyone."
Duke laughed bitterly. "One more word from you…" He turned to his father, fury radiating from him. "My mother left for charity, and even though I suspected something, I never expected this. You've brought shame upon this family, upon this kingdom. You've made me question everything I believed in."
King Torin's eyes widened, realization dawning. "You…?"
"Yes, Father. I knew from the start," Duke said, his voice a tight whisper laced with icy fury. "Perhaps it's time your queen knows about this."
"I am sorry," King Torin replied, his voice hollow in the grand hall. "But I do not regret my choices. I am king."
"I hope you don't regret this, Father," Duke's anger flared. "The one person I could always look up to threw it all away for a moment of… what? Lust? Infatuation?"
Torin's gaze hardened, defiance igniting in his eyes. "I will not apologize."
Finley hastily dressed, picking up his harp, and left the chamber, the weight of the moment hanging heavily in the air.
King Torin, desperate, approached Duke, grasping his shoulders. "Please, son, I beg you," he pleaded, searching his son's eyes for understanding.
Duke stepped back, his heart hardening. Without uttering a word, he turned and left, leaving King Torin standing alone, a tempest of guilt and shame swirling around him.