Wife
2073 Words
When Ivanna returned to her chambers, she found herself thinking about everything Elvis had told her.
The door closed quietly behind her, leaving her alone in the warmth of the room.
She slowly walked toward the fireplace and sat in one of the comfortable chairs beside it. The flames danced behind the iron grate, filling the room with a soft warmth that contrasted with the cold snow outside.
She should have been thinking about the castle.
About the beautiful gardens.
About the servants who had bowed to her.
About the fact that she was now living in Garcia.
Instead, she could only think about the portraits.
And the story behind them.
Giveon's mother had been a maid.
A human woman who had fallen in love with the vampire king.
Their love had been forbidden from the beginning.
The king had tried to hide their relationship by taking her away from the palace, but she had eventually returned with her son and demanded that the king acknowledge him.
And he had.
He had accepted Giveon as his son.
He had made his mother his mistress.
And then, when Giveon was only five years old, she had died.
Poisoned.
Ivanna stared into the fire.
Five.
She couldn't imagine being five years old and losing her mother.
At five, she had still been afraid of sleeping alone.
She had still run to her mother's room whenever she had a nightmare.
She had still believed that her parents could protect her from anything.
What must it have been like for Giveon?
A little boy growing up inside a palace, surrounded by people who knew he was different.
A child born from a forbidden relationship.
A half-vampire.
A prince.
A son who had never asked to become any of those things.
Ivanna sighed softly.
There were still so many things she didn't understand about him.
She remembered the way he had looked at her during their wedding.
Quiet.
Unreadable.
But not cruel.
Then she remembered the journey.
The blanket he had placed over her without being asked.
The way he had slowed the carriage when the snow became heavier.
The food he had made sure she ate.
The way he had stayed awake while she slept.
He was difficult to understand.
But perhaps that was because she had been trying to understand him through the rumors she had heard.
Maybe the rumors had never told the whole story.
A soft knock came from the door.
Ivanna looked up.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Giveon stepped inside.
Her thoughts immediately scattered.
He had changed from the clothes he had worn earlier. He was dressed in a simple black shirt and dark trousers, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
His black hair was slightly disheveled, as though he had run his fingers through it several times.
His grey eyes found hers.
"You're awake."
Ivanna nodded.
"I am."
He closed the door behind him.
"How was the tour?"
"It was good."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
"What did you see?"
Ivanna thought about it.
"The gardens."
"Beautiful?"
"Very."
A faint silence passed between them.
"And the rest of the castle?"
"It's enormous."
Giveon's expression remained calm.
"You'll get used to it."
"I hope so."
He looked at her for a moment.
Then his eyes moved toward the fireplace.
"Did you rest?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Ivanna watched him.
There was something strangely comforting about the way he spoke.
He never asked too many questions.
He never forced conversation.
He simply stayed.
She wondered if he had come to check on her again.
Perhaps that was why he was here.
But there was another question sitting heavily on her mind.
She hesitated.
"Giveon?"
He looked at her.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"You can."
She looked down at her hands.
She wasn't sure how to begin.
"Elvis told me something during the tour."
Giveon said nothing.
"About your family."
His expression changed slightly.
"Which part?"
"Your mother."
The room seemed quieter.
Ivanna immediately wondered if she should stop.
"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"I'll answer."
She looked up at him.
"She was a maid?"
"Yes."
"A maid in this palace?"
"Yes."
Ivanna studied his face.
It was difficult to tell what he was thinking.
"She was human."
"Yes."
"And your father was the king."
"Yes."
She hesitated.
"How did they meet?"
"In the palace."
"She worked for him?"
"She worked here."
Ivanna nodded slowly.
"And they fell in love."
Giveon looked toward the fire.
"Yes."
There was something about the simplicity of his answer that made Ivanna realize how difficult the subject must be for him.
She lowered her voice.
"Was it really forbidden?"
"Yes."
"Because she was human?"
"Partly."
"Partly?"
"The king was already married."
Ivanna remembered the portrait of Queen Elisa.
"The queen."
"Yes."
"Queen Elisa."
Giveon nodded.
"The mother of James and Caleb."
"Yes."
Ivanna looked down.
"So your father had a wife, but he loved your mother."
"That's what happened."
She was quiet for a moment.
"What happened when she became pregnant?"
"The king tried to hide it."
"By taking her away?"
"Yes."
"To another kingdom."
"Yes."
Ivanna frowned slightly.
"Why didn't he simply acknowledge you?"
Giveon was silent for several seconds.
"Fear."
"Fear of what?"
"The court."
She nodded.
That made sense.
A vampire king having a child with a human maid would not have been something the royal court would easily accept.
"And your mother returned?"
"Yes."
"With you."
"Yes."
"She announced that you were his son."
"Yes."
"And he didn't deny it."
"No."
Ivanna looked at him with quiet curiosity.
"Why?"
Giveon looked at her.
"Because I was."
The answer was simple.
But there was something firm about it.
He didn't sound ashamed.
He didn't sound uncertain.
He simply knew who he was.
Ivanna nodded.
"What happened after that?"
"He made her his mistress."
"And you were raised in the palace?"
"Yes."
"As a prince?"
"Eventually."
She frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"People didn't accept me immediately."
Ivanna's chest tightened.
"Because you were half-human."
"Yes."
She remembered the word she had heard so many times.
Halfbreed.
The word people used as though it were an insult.
"Did they call you names?"
Giveon's eyes hardened slightly.
"Sometimes."
"What did they call you?"
He didn't answer.
Ivanna immediately realized she shouldn't have asked.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
She watched him quietly.
He didn't seem angry.
Just distant.
She wondered how many years he had spent hearing people speak about him as though he were something less than a prince.
She thought about the boy in the portrait.
The serious child Elvis had described.
She couldn't connect that little boy with the man standing before her.
"How old were you when your mother died?"
"Five."
Ivanna swallowed.
"I can't imagine."
Giveon didn't respond.
"What happened?"
"She was poisoned."
The words came quietly.
Ivanna looked at him.
"Did you see it happen?"
"No."
"Did you know she was sick?"
"No."
"So it happened suddenly?"
"Yes."
She looked down.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
"But I am sorry."
Giveon was silent.
Ivanna wasn't sure if he knew how to respond to sympathy.
Perhaps he had received very little of it.
She looked toward the fireplace.
"Do you remember her?"
"Some things."
"What things?"
He took a moment before answering.
"Her hands."
Ivanna looked at him.
"Her hands?"
"She used to hold mine."
Something about the answer touched her.
"Whenever you walked through the palace?"
"Yes."
Ivanna smiled faintly.
"That sounds nice."
"It was."
His voice softened.
It was barely noticeable.
But Ivanna noticed.
"What else?"
"I remember her voice."
"Do you remember what she used to say?"
"Not everything."
"Anything?"
Giveon looked toward the fire.
"She used to tell me not to listen to people who called me a halfbreed."
Ivanna's heart tightened.
"What did she call you?"
"My son."
She looked at him.
"And you remember that?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation.
Ivanna remained quiet.
"She loved you very much."
"Yes."
"Do you miss her?"
Giveon looked at her.
"Every day."
The answer was so simple that it hurt more than anything else he could have said.
Ivanna looked down at her hands.
She suddenly wished she hadn't asked.
Not because she regretted knowing.
But because she could see the pain hidden beneath his calm expression.
After a moment, she asked softly, "Elvis told me there were rumors."
Giveon waited.
"About Queen Elisa."
His face became unreadable.
"People suspected her."
"Because she was jealous?"
"That's what they said."
"Because your father seemed to prefer your mother?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe Queen Elisa poisoned her?"
"I don't know."
His answer was immediate.
"Nobody ever proved it."
Ivanna nodded.
"Was she cruel to your mother?"
Giveon was quiet.
"Not that I remember."
She looked at him.
"You were only five."
"Yes."
"So you don't remember much."
"No."
The room fell silent.
Neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled softly.
Outside the tall windows, the last traces of afternoon light were beginning to fade, leaving the sky a pale shade of blue-gray.
Ivanna looked toward the window.
She had only been in Garcia for a short time.
Yet she already knew more about Giveon than she had expected to learn.
She had thought the most difficult part of marrying him would be living beside a vampire.
She was beginning to think the difficult part would be understanding the man behind the title.
Giveon looked at the clock.
"I have another meeting."
Ivanna looked at him.
"Another meeting?"
"Yes."
"Now?"
He nodded.
"I need to go."
She nodded.
"Of course."
He took a step toward the door.
Then he stopped.
"I came to check on you first."
Ivanna looked at him.
"You did?"
His grey eyes met hers.
"Yes."
"Why?"
He seemed almost confused by the question.
"Because you're my wife."
The words made her heart skip.
She quickly looked away.
"I'm fine."
"I know."
There was something almost familiar about the way he said it.
He had said the same thing during the journey.
When she had insisted she wasn't cold.
When she had insisted she wasn't tired.
And now, once again, he seemed to know her better than she expected.
"Will you be back?"
The question slipped out before she could think about it.
Giveon looked at her.
"For dinner."
Ivanna nodded.
"I'll join you later this evening."
"Alright."
He reached the door.
Then he paused.
Ivanna watched him, wondering if he had forgotten something.
Instead, he turned and walked back toward her.
She looked up as he approached.
He stopped in front of her.
Neither of them spoke.
For a moment, Ivanna simply stared into his grey eyes.
Then Giveon leaned down.
His lips touched her cheek in a soft, brief kiss.
Ivanna froze.
Her eyes widened.
She hadn't expected it.
Not from him.
Giveon straightened as calmly as though nothing unusual had happened.
"I'll see you at dinner, wife."
Ivanna stared at him.
"Wife?"
But he was already turning away.
He walked toward the door.
"Giveon..."
He stopped.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
A faint amusement appeared in his eyes.
Then he opened the door.
"Don't be late."
And he left.
The door closed quietly behind him.
Ivanna remained where she was.
Completely still.
Slowly, she lifted her hand to her cheek.
She could still feel the warmth of his lips against her skin.
Her heart began beating faster.
She frowned at herself.
Why was she reacting like this?
It had only been a kiss on the cheek.
Nothing more.
Yet the simple gesture had left her more flustered than the wedding ceremony itself.
She sat down slowly.
Her mind returned to the word he had used.
Wife.
He had said it so naturally.
As if she had always belonged beside him.
As if their marriage wasn't something strange or uncomfortable.
As if she truly was his.
Ivanna touched her cheek again.
She had spent the entire afternoon learning about Giveon's past.
His mother.
His childhood.
His father's betrayal.
The rumors surrounding Queen Elisa.
The loneliness he had carried since he was a child.
And somehow, after all of that, it wasn't his tragic past that occupied her thoughts.
It was one quiet kiss.
And one word.
Wife.
She looked toward the door he had disappeared through.
For the first time since their wedding, Ivanna found herself wondering what dinner with her husband would be like.
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