The Royal Affair

Chapter 27

Spring arrived in Jericho, a time of renewal and blossoming life. But beneath the surface of blooming flowers and warmer days, a sense of unease began to spread through the kingdom. Reports from the eastern border spoke of King Xander's increasing military movements, troop deployments, and the amassing of supplies. The threat of war, long a distant rumble, now loomed on the horizon.

The King, Queen, Derek, and a few key advisors were gathered for a midday meal, a strategic council disguised as a casual luncheon. The atmosphere, however, was far from relaxed. The air crackled with tension as they discussed the alarming reports from the East.

"Xander is testing our resolve," King Francis declared, his voice booming with a mixture of anger and arrogance. "He thinks we are weak, weakened by the loss of my late-Queen and the transition of power."

"We must respond with force, Your Majesty," one of the older advisors urged, his voice trembling with the urgency of the situation. "A show of strength will deter him from further aggression."

Alexa, however, disagreed. Her experience in the Summer Isles, a kingdom that thrived on trade and diplomacy, had instilled in her a different approach.

"Perhaps a show of force is not the wisest first course of action," she suggested, her voice calm and measured. "We must explore all diplomatic avenues. A war would be devastating for both our kingdoms."

Francis scoffed, his face reddening. "Diplomacy? With Xander? He is a savage, a barbarian! He only understands the language of steel!"

"But war comes at a great cost, Francis," Alexa countered, her voice firm. This was the first time she had used his first name in public, and it was a deliberate act of defiance. "Lives will be lost, resources will be depleted, and the kingdom will suffer. We must at least attempt to negotiate before resorting to bloodshed."

Her words hung in the air, a challenge to the King's authority. Francis's face contorted with rage. "You dare question my judgment, woman?" he snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Before Alexa could respond, Francis lashed out. His hand struck her across the face with a force that sent her reeling. A collective gasp rose from the other lords.

Alexa sat stunned in her seat, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and pain. A small cut appeared on her bottom lip, and a trickle of blood ran down her chin.

Francis, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with fury, stormed out of the room, the other lords scrambling to follow him.

Derek remained, his face a mask of restrained fury. The room was silent, the only sound Alexa's ragged breathing.

When the last of the lords had departed, leaving them alone, Derek moved with a quiet urgency. He grabbed a clean napkin and quickly dampened it in a goblet of water.

He walked over to Alexa, his movements gentle and deliberate. He knelt before her, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of concern and a fierce protectiveness.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice low and soothing, "let me..."

He gently dabbed the napkin against her lip, his touch feather-light, his eyes filled with a tenderness that belied his stoic demeanor. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Then, without thinking, Derek's thumb gently brushed along Alexa's chin, his touch lingering for a fleeting moment. A shiver ran down Alexa's spine, an unexpected jolt of sensation that surprised them both.

Derek, realizing the intimacy of his gesture, cleared his throat, his face flushing slightly. He quickly pulled his hand back, his expression becoming carefully neutral.

He stood abruptly and offered a stiff bow. "I... I will leave you to rest, Your Grace," he said, his voice clipped and formal. He then turned and left the room, his movements swift and decisive.

Derek's swift departure left a lingering tension in the room. The silence was heavy, thick with the unspoken emotions that had flared between them. Alexa stood alone, her hand tentatively touching her chin where Derek's thumb had brushed against her skin. The sensation, though fleeting, had been unexpectedly potent, a jolt of awareness that had shaken her composure.

She felt a confusing mix of emotions: a lingering anger towards the King, a vulnerability from the violence she had endured, and a strange, unsettling awareness of Derek. His touch, so gentle and hesitant, had been a stark contrast to the King's possessive and forceful embraces. It was a reminder of the kindness and respect he had consistently shown her.

She tried to dismiss the feelings, to focus on the more pressing issue of the King's behavior and the looming threat of war. But the memory of Derek's touch, the intensity in his eyes, refused to fade.

Meanwhile, Derek paced restlessly in his own chambers, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He replayed the moment in his head, the impulse that had driven him to touch Alexa, the dangerous intimacy of the gesture. He had crossed a line, a line of propriety and loyalty, and the consequences of his actions could be severe.

He was torn between a fierce protectiveness towards Alexa and a desperate desire to maintain his composure, his duty. He knew that his feelings for the Queen were inappropriate, a forbidden longing that could have dire repercussions. But the violence he had witnessed, the vulnerability he had seen in her eyes, had stirred something within him that he couldn't ignore.

The incident served as a catalyst, a turning point in the silent struggle between duty and desire. The fragile threads of their connection had been stretched taut, threatening to snap under the weight of their unspoken emotions. And both Alexa and Derek knew that the path ahead was fraught with peril, a dangerous dance between loyalty and betrayal, a game where the stakes were higher than they could have ever imagined.

A few days after the incident, Derek found himself walking through the castle gardens with King Francis. The air was crisp and cool, the scent of blooming flowers a stark contrast to the lingering tension within the castle walls. The King, his mood still volatile, was pacing restlessly, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Xander," the King muttered, his voice laced with a simmering anger, "that arrogant fool. He thinks he can intimidate me, push me around."

Derek, his expression carefully neutral, walked beside him. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice calm and measured, "with all due respect, I believe the Queen had a valid point regarding the situation in the East."

Francis stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping to Derek. "Are you siding with her now, Derek? Have you forgotten who you serve?"

Derek's jaw tightened. "I have not forgotten my loyalty, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice firm and steady. "But I also believe in speaking the truth, even when it is not what you wish to hear. The Queen's suggestion of exploring diplomatic avenues is not a sign of weakness. It is a strategic move."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "War is a costly endeavor, Your Majesty. It will drain our resources, deplete our manpower, and leave our kingdom vulnerable. The Queen's approach, while cautious, could potentially avert such a catastrophe."

Francis remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Derek. He seemed to be weighing Derek's words against his own pride and anger.

Derek pressed on, his voice persuasive. "The Queen has a unique perspective, Your Majesty. She comes from a kingdom that thrives on trade and negotiation. She understands the value of diplomacy, the art of compromise. Her insights could be invaluable in this situation."

He softened his tone, appealing to the King's sense of reason. "Consider the potential benefits, Your Majesty. A successful negotiation could strengthen our alliances, secure our borders, and ensure the prosperity of our kingdom. Is that not what you desire above all else?"

Francis hesitated, his expression softening slightly. The logic in Derek's words, the promise of a peaceful resolution, seemed to be slowly swaying him.

Derek continued, his voice gentle but firm. "The Queen is not trying to undermine your authority, Your Majesty. She is trying to help you, to guide you towards the best possible outcome. She is a wise and capable ruler, and we would be foolish not to heed her counsel."

Finally, Francis let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Perhaps… perhaps you are right, Derek," he conceded, his voice grudging. "Perhaps I was too hasty in my judgment."

A flicker of relief passed through Derek. He had managed to persuade the King, to steer him away from a potentially disastrous course of action. But he also knew that he had walked a dangerous line, challenging the King's authority, and that the consequences of such actions could be severe.