"Luke is going to give a public audience?" Zena asked Nan, surprised.
"Yes, on the morrow. He would be handing out alms to the poor. That's something the rulers of Zorbia have done when they got married or had an heir. I think you should also go...." Nan replied, pouring out a cup of tea and offering her along with dainty cucumber sandwiches.
"I would like to do so, dear Nan. I understand that the people will be eager to see their princess," Zena observed, liking the older woman's suggestion.
She was now the consort of the prince of Zorbia, and as such, she wished to carry out all her duties. She might have married Luke unwillingly, but she wasn't one to neglect her people. She loved her fellow Zorbians and would like to help them.
That night, when Zena heard the door of the adjoining chamber open, and Luke prepare for bed, she knocked on the interconnecting door, walking in as he called out to enter.
Luke was in the process of taking off his shirt with his butler's help but waved him away when he saw her. Zena stood for a moment, taking in the sight of him in his shirt tails and pantaloons. He looked handsome as usual, though a little fatigued.
"What do you want, Zena?" he asked, tiredness clear in his voice.
Zena gathered her thoughts together.
"May I come with you on the morrow to the public audience?" she asked, trying not to look at him. It did peculiar things to her inside.
"Do you really wish to do so?" he asked, surprised.
She nodded.
"I...I...would like the people to know that I care for them," she mumbled.
"Nothing would please me better, Zena, than knowing that you take your royal duties seriously," he said, coming to stand in front of her and raising her face with a finger under her chin.
"I do...." she whispered, looking into his eyes, and seeing only admiration in them.
With painful slowness, his head bent towards her and he put his lips on hers in a soul-stirring kiss. Against her will, Zena responded, opening herself to him and savoring the sweetness of that kiss.
Time seemed to stop, as they explored each other, a desperate urgency in their touch.
"I have wanted this for a long time, Zena..." Luke breathed against her mouth.
The words brought Zena back to reality. The devastatingly attractive man in her arms was none other than the one who had wreaked his vengeance on her so mercilessly, humiliating her in front of her father. However much he might make a show of wanting her, it was bound to lead her into further heartbreak.
She pushed Luke then, extricating herself from the circle of his arms. His face fell, and he moved away, his expression closed.
"Go to your room, Zena. My men will come to fetch you by ten. Be ready," he said, the tiredness more pronounced in his voice.
Without another word, Zena left his room on shaking legs, sinking down on her bed and dissolving into a cloud of tears.
Why did she feel this pull of physical attraction for Luke even knowing what kind of a man he was? Why was her own body bent on betraying her? Had she forgotten his cruel taking of her, remembering only the pleasure and the mindless bliss? A leopard never changed its spots, and neither had Luke changed, she was sure. How and why her father had forgiven him was still a mystery to her. She must talk to him about it.
Zena put a hand on her belly, feeling her baby, her heart turning over with love for the unborn life inside her. The fact that her child had Luke's blood evoked mixed feelings inside her. She had not been wrong when she had told Jack that she would have preferred to marry him instead. Life with him would have been so simple. A part of her whispered that it would have been boring and monotonous too, lacking the element of excitement and danger she felt with Luke, but at least she would have spent her days in peace.
But like it or not, she was tied to Luke for life and would have to find a way to make peace with him. They couldn't always be at loggerheads. She must at least aim to achieve a companionship, if not love, but something prompted her to ask herself if she would be satisfied with companionship. Would she not care if Luke sought solace somewhere else? The very thought was enough to rouse a fire of jealousy in her.
Her conflicting and troubled thoughts made it impossible for her to sleep, and she tossed and turned, till at dawn, an uneasy sleep claimed her.
Morning found her dressed and ready, her tiara in place, waiting for Luke's men to come. They came promptly at ten, escorting her through the corridors, into the vast hall. Luke met her there, attired in his customary uniform, looking every bit the ruler of Zorbia. They walked through the huge doors, coming to the landing from where a series of steps descended to the grounds below.
Luke held out his hand to her and she put hers in it. Why did this seem so right to walk with him hand in hand, like a loving couple?
An open carriage, drawn by four horses, was waiting for them on the driveway. Zena knew that it was used only on ceremonious occasions, like this one. She climbed into it, and Luke followed her, taking his seat beside her. The guards stood at the back and mounted soldiers flanked the carriage. An escort of soldiers led the procession, as they made their way out of the palace and into the streets of St. Helene.
Citizens lined both sides of the road, waving and cheering their monarch. Zena stole a glance at Luke, who was waving back at the crowds, taking the adulation in his stride as if it was something normal for him. But then, it was, for he had ruled Zorbia for quite a few years and the people loved him.
"Smile, Zena, and wave to your subjects," he whispered in her ear, trying to make himself heard above the din of the excited masses.
Smith pulled the hood low over his forehead in an effort to make his face invisible. It would not do for anyone to recognize him. He was known as Wilfred's right-hand man. They were sure to lynch him if they caught him.
The Valerians were following at a safe distance behind him, waiting for his signal to strike. Pyke was approaching from the other side. He was their backup. If they missed, he would strike instead.
Smith climbed a stone by the roadside, raising himself above the sea of faces, to catch a glimpse of Prince Lucas riding on the carriage.
Wait! Was that Martin's daughter by his side? Of course, it was. Well, well, this only made his work easier. He could wipe out the whole happy family with one blow. He rubbed his hands in sweet anticipation of success. His master had promised him lands and titles of his own. Nothing stood between him and his good fortune, except chance. The chance that his dagger would enter the black heart of the Prince. The chance that the Valerians would be successful in beheading Prince Lucas and his consort, thus ending the royal bloodline.
He sent a small prayer for luck, and then advanced towards his prey, mingling with the crowd.