The Executioner's Wife

THE MAD KING

Lily held Alois' hand tightly as they made their way to the castle gates. The biting wind nipped at their backs; the day had cooled considerably in the hour since the queen had left the world. Her book was tucked into the back pocket of her skirt- she'd lost any will to philosophize about the stars. Instead, she was thinking of everything that could possibly be waiting for them there- her wild theories tossing her in an unruly sea of dread. Had Alois somehow managed to do his job too well? She couldn't force herself to ask him what could possibly be going on. His eyes were focused, his gait determined as he led them to the doors of the castle, and she found some comfort in his confidence. But still, the question nagged her. Would they be rewarded or punished? Lily hoped and prayed for the former, but her mind resurrected the sight of the corpse bird and its icky yellow eye as Alois showed the king's letter to the guard at the entrance.

Her heart galloped in her throat as they were led into the gaping maw of the castle. Hard cobblestone and cold wind became soft carpet and warm breeze as they entered the plush innards of the king's keep. Everything was red and billowy, from the curtains swelling in the vast windows to the rugs adorning the floor like splashes of blood. Lily grimaced as she realized the place looked like a throat. A flurry of waitstaff buzzed about the mighty gullet, cleaning the soft floor with a range of products that scrubbed pink bubbles and left even darker shades of red. Whatever they were cleaning, the design of the room was meant to hide it. Lily held Alois' hand tighter as they walked forward to follow the guard.

His face was set in stern concentration, practicing whatever he planned to say to the king. Of course, there was no way to really prepare; they didn't know why they had been summoned. She knew he was smart enough to humble himself first before he asked any questions. But she could feel how tight he was holding her. Whatever the issue was, she would stand with him all the way through it. She rubbed her thumb in circles over the back of his hand. I'm here, she told him silently. I'm right here.

The guard lead them to a tall, wooden door and turned with firm instruction. "Wait here."

Alois nodded. The guard disappeared behind the door.

Alois and Lily stood silently, hearts racing in sync. He was doing his best to stand as still as possible, to look like that dark, dutiful executioner that his king might have no qualms with. It was a mask he wore for work, only meant to pay the bills and keep himself and his wife warm, fed, and happy. Now it might be their saving grace. He was his king and kingdom's humble servant. Whatever the problem was, however he might have offended the king, that was how he planned to approach the matter. And if he was to be rewarded, the mask would ensure continued service. Yes, that would work.

He wanted to tell Lily of his plan. He could see her wide, worried brown eyes. Now both of her hands were clasping his wrist. He knew she had a million theories- he wanted to kiss every one of them away. He only gave one, a gentle touch of his lips on her forehead, and smiled softly down at her. It's alright, he told her with a look. I'll take care of this.

The doors opened. The couple stepped forward with a hesitance similar to approaching the edge of a cliff.

The throne room was not like the throat that could describe the entrance to his castle. It was a mouth. Sharp, jagged edges rose from the broken windows. Crooked cracks ran across black tiles where something had fallen or shattered. Two lines of servants led to the throne at the back of the room like teeth guarding a tongue. The throne itself held the centerpiece; the king, lounged across its wide lap, his eyes red and rolling. His gray hair was disheveled, his robes slipping from his shoulders to show the bony white skin. There was an empty throne beside him, one where the queen would have- once had- sat.

Alois walked forward boldly, his wife now in step with him. He knelt before the throne, face to the floor, elbow over his bent knee. Lily copied his practiced pose and kept her head down. She assured herself of her husband's professionalism. He knew what he was doing.