Whispers in the Palace
584 Words
Rumors are like smoke — faint at first, but once they rise, they darken every room.
By the end of the week, every servant in Elaris Palace had heard whispers about the King’s strange new habit: walking alone to the gardens at dawn, speaking softly to a maid, and returning with eyes that seemed… lighter.
When Queen Selene heard, her jeweled fingers froze around her cup of wine.
“The maid?” she repeated, her tone sharp as glass.
The servant bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty. The one called Mira. She tends the gardens.”
Selene’s lips curved into a cold smile. “A garden maid teaching the King? About what — roses?”
“No, my Queen. About… God.”
The Queen’s smile faded. “God?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. They say she speaks of prayer and peace, and the King listens.”
That night, Queen Selene could not sleep. She tossed in silk sheets, her mind churning. Her husband — the King who once bowed to no one — was now kneeling before a maid’s words.
By morning, she had made up her mind.
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Mira was sweeping the garden steps when she heard the rustle of heavy fabric. Looking up, she froze. The Queen herself stood before her — draped in gold, beauty sharp and untouchable.
“You’re Mira,” the Queen said flatly.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I’ve heard much about you.”
Mira lowered her gaze. “I only serve as I am called to.”
“Called to?” Selene laughed, though there was no joy in it. “You speak as if heaven itself sent you to clean my palace.”
“If heaven wills it, then perhaps it did.”
The Queen’s expression hardened. “Be careful with your words, girl. My husband is not a preacher’s toy. He is a King — my King.”
Mira didn’t flinch. “Then may he rule wisely, Your Majesty. A wise king listens not only to crowns, but to truth.”
Selene stepped closer. “And what truth have you shown him?”
“The truth of peace,” Mira said softly. “The kind that no gold can buy.”
The Queen stared at her for a long moment — and in that silence, envy took root. For the first time, someone had given the King something she could not: rest for his soul.
“Stay away from him,” the Queen finally hissed, her voice trembling between rage and fear. “You will not speak to him again. Do you understand?”
Mira bowed. “If that is your command, I shall obey. But I will still pray for him.”
Those words — calm, unshaken — struck the Queen deeper than any insult could. She turned sharply and left, her perfume trailing behind like poison in the air.
That evening, when the King returned to the garden, Mira was gone. Only her broom lay by the steps, and beside it, a small folded note.
He picked it up and read:
> Your Majesty, I have been told not to see you again. But remember what I said — peace does not live in palaces, it lives in hearts. Seek Him, and you will find it again.
— Mira
The King stood there for a long time, the note trembling slightly in his hands.
And for the first time in years, he felt the weight of his crown — heavier than ever.
- Writer
