Doors flew open.
People filed in,
ushered by servants clad in
forest green and pure silver.
I craned my neck over the heads
for a glimpse of the king.
He was pale that night,
a sweat sheen glistening
like his crown
on his forehead.
Smiling, as our king did,
but there was something hollow
in his eyes
and the curve of his mouth.
He bade us all sit,
in the booming voice
which commanded respect
from all who hear him,
but the warmth in his tone was lacking.
He did not seem to be our king.
He seemed to be something else.
The servants barred the doors.
My skin crawled;
I had never liked being trapped.
After a few hasty words,
the meal began:
young boar and hart,
fresh vegetables bursting with juice.
I ate carelessly,
wildly.
I did not remember
when I fell asleep,
but when I awoke,
I was somewhere else,
something else.
I danced carelessly,
wildly,
alongside my king.
