Queen of Shattered Dreams

4 - How Foolish and Vain

Photo by Eric Smart from Pexels

The sun shines through the window, warming my face. I open my eyes, but I'm dreaming. That sensation alone, knowing that I'm in a dream while in it, is startling enough, but then an arm comes around my waist. My husband. Husband! I know this in the way knowledge comes only in dreams. He pulls us closer together and nestles his face into my hair. I smile, my heart swells as though about to burst. I'm happy, maybe even in love. I slide my hand down his arm and intertwine my fingers with his long and lean ones.

"Mila!" Mother screeches.

But that can't be right, there's no way I'm married and still living under the same roof with that woman. I shift toward him and settle against his chest as though it were made for me, as though I've always belonged there. I can't see his face though, no matter how strong my desire, I'm not in complete control in this dream.

"Mila!" Mother calls again.

And there goes the dream. I roll over. Grey clouds ripple across the sky, making it seem deceptively earlier than it is. I stare at the ceiling. That was my future. It was Alfrid, wasn't it? Who else could it have been—who else could I feel that way about? If only I had been able to lift my eyes and see his face!

"Mila!" My bedroom door swings open and she enters, red-faced, breathing heavily. A bull on a rampage. "Why are you still in bed? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No," I reply dumbly. There's an opportunity for a smart remark there but I'm caught off guard.

My lack of wit seems to have stunned her. She stops moving and stares at me. Then, her mouth opens wide. "Anya!" she screeches. She turns back to me, and seeing that I'm still in bed points a finger at me. "Get up!"

I sit up straight in bed at her command. Right, the king's visit first, then I can ruminate about my dream in peace.

Anya, one of our servants, enters the room silent but alert. One of my dresses already draped over her arm.

"Not that one!" Mother huffs. "The blue one! With the gold etching. Hurry!" She holds a hand to her chest, sweat forming on her brow.

Now she's done it, her heart can't take anymore. But even if she died right here the king would still want to take a walk and exchange pleasantries. If the death of his own wife doesn't merit even an hour of grief certainly his "fair cousin's" wouldn't either.

"Well, get out of bed," she says with less vigor.

Anya returns with the blue gown and I stand, taking off my nightgown as I do.

Mother wipes a handkerchief over her face. She's already dressed so unfortunately will not be leaving as Anya prepares me.

I grab a hold of the bedpost as Anya tightens the dress and Mother begins picking at my hair, no doubt strategizing what can be done given that we've lost all of five minutes due to my sleeping in.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is likely my official invitation to court.  Nothing I wasn't prepared for. Yet, after the dream last night, how could I possibly go to court? I'm meant to marry Alfrid, aren't I? Is it possible I could feel that way about someone other than him?

"Let's put her hair up. Make it beautiful, Anya. This is for the king."

This is for the king, like I'm a cake being decorated.

Mother leaves the room. I've no doubt she's gone to freshen her face. Can't have her looking distressed when the King arrives, can we? She'll be impatient for me to hurry up and wait for Feodor's arrival and Anya knows it as well as I do.