The King is a Woman (Crepusculum)

Chapter 8: Awake

Kanaise woke up. She brought her plans close to her swollen eyes, she noticed her damp cheeks. Those tears seemed to flow down her face throughout the night. She quickly wiped away the residues of her unspoken trauma. Curling up her toes beneath the sheets, she tried to comfort herself.

Her eyes blinked rapidly. Her mournful gaze then settled upon the curtains. Strange, she thought.

'Servants should be bustling.'

Usually the animate sounds of the servants going on and about could be heard and their whispers would drift through the air. Unease started to spread all throughout her body. If there was one thing that the wars taught, that was to never ever be complacent. There was no safe place, no time for temporary comfort and pleasures. One must always be tackling the next matter and planning to eliminate the threats. Because threats are everywhere and you would never know when one would consume you.

Her eyes darted anxiously anywhere they could land. At the very least, the good thing that war brought, were lessons. Her senses were now so heightened to their utmost capacity. Her instincts sharpened, even the soft leaves falling unto the ground, she could sense. It was as though she could now sense seconds in advance the things that could and would happen. And yet this was also the reason that since 8 years ago, she never had a good night's sleep.

There were just some things in life, that once felt so good, so vibrant and you wanted to feel the same feeling again. Yet once all the things that made you feel good are now in front of you again and within one's reach, you do not feel the same feeling again. The scars of the past will always remain like wounds never to be healed. The dangers lurking everywhere, the paranoia. It only added to the frustration and melancholy, that it could never be the same again.

She tiptoed out of her small bed. His father tried to imitate those Western beds with their soft mattresses and elevated frames, but this, for her, was not something she was accustomed to now. It felt foreign to her. During the civil war, she would always sleep on the grounds and sometimes, would not sleep at all. Years she went on that instead of a plush and warm bed. She would always sleep on cold, hard surfaces.

The sliding doors stood slightly opened, allowing a few rays of sunlight to cast a faint mist-like glow upon the bamboo straw mats. She slowly walked towards it. She halted in front of the grooming table, just near her bed. She studied her reflection as she gazed back at the bronze mirror. How come her royal father would always tell her that those eyes currently staring back at her, so cold and so unmoved, were somehow a constant reminder that she had inherited not only her mother's beauty but also her spirit? She could not see any resemblance at all. The dark shade of green-gray, a gloomy one...her mother's green eyes were like jade stones, so vivid and translucent.

She drew back her attention outside. At last, she reached it and quickly pulled the sliding doors. Kanaise knit her brows in confusion, why was it so bright? With trembling hands, she quickly closed the doors again. She could not see a thing. She brushed away the strands of dark blonde hair that clung to her face. What was that? Kanaise's confusion intensified as she realized something. That was not normal. Was this a dream? A hallucination? Did she completely go mad?

Suddenly a faint music was heard. So soft to the ears, so soothing. It was the sound of the bamboo flute. It seemed to have been coming. Kanaise's heart seemed to have skipped a beat. The music, she recognized it. She knew who was playing it. He used to play the flute every day, until one day she woke up and he was no more. She felt a mixture of emotions surging within as the music grew clearer and clearer. How could it be possible? How come...he passed away many years ago.

"Royal father..." She uttered mindlessly, with no thought, she suddenly rushed outside not knowing what would greet her.

Her father was sitting right there, at the large stone beside the large fig tree erected in her courtyard, dressed in his usual sapphire-like robes and playing his lute—a serene mien. Kanaise could not utter a word, she could not even comprehend one.