Between our hands

Chapter 53: Under the Gaze.

The afternoon was already well underway, but the heat seemed unyielding. A cloudless azure sky stretched above the palace terrace, where every element of the scene had been meticulously orchestrated. The kingdom's flags fluttered proudly in the gentle breeze, and the immaculate white columns framed the spectacle. In the distance, a sea of eager faces spread out, forming a dense and buzzing mass, each waiting for the long-anticipated speech.

Maëlle stood slightly apart, a little behind the rest of the family, her silhouette outlined against the bright afternoon light. She wore a solemn outfit, understated yet elegant, carefully chosen for the occasion. A white suit, a symbol of purity and authority, adorned with golden embroidery on the sleeves that echoed the royal family’s emblems. Her hair was styled in a delicate bun, freeing her face but emphasizing the tension in her expression. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, as if she sought to draw upon an invisible strength to face what was to come.

Around her, everything seemed to move with an almost oppressive slowness. Every movement, every glance exchanged among the royal family members resonated like a tacit signal that the moment was approaching. The king, the center of attention, mentally prepared for the speech, his advisors whispering the final details beside him.

Yet for Maëlle, this solemn scene was merely a blur. Her heart raced so loudly that she could almost hear the blood pulsing at her temples. The weight of this day, the significance of the speech, and the importance of each word pressed down on her with an intensity that made her falter inwardly.

Not far away, two veteran bodyguards, old shadows of the royal corridors, stood tall and proud. Their impeccable uniforms, glinting in the sunlight, highlighted years of loyal service. They watched the scene with the vigilance of hawks, their gazes constantly shifting from the crowd to the royal faces. Though discreet, they represented a reassuring constant in this grand setting.

However, Maëlle knew that it was not them who could soothe her inner turmoil. Their presence only intensified her feeling of isolation. She needed another form of support, something more personal, more intimate. Someone who could understand what words could not express.

Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the shadows in search of that familiar figure who always offered her silent refuge. Behind an ajar door, out of public view, Samy was waiting. He stood slightly apart, faithful to his role, but his eyes never left Maëlle. He was a step back with his colleagues, hands clasped in front of him, looking focused yet calm. His uniform gave him an imposing presence, but it was his gaze that betrayed his emotions. An attentive, almost protective look, alert for any sign of distress from Maëlle.

Their eyes met briefly, and in that split second, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. An invisible yet undeniable bond formed anew between them, like a thread stretched across space and time. That simple visual exchange comforted her, providing the stability she desperately needed. In Samy's eyes, she found a form of support that no other family member or guard could offer.

Feeling the nerves rising within her, Maëlle brought a trembling hand to her necklace, an automatic gesture to seek calm. But even that familiar contact was not enough. She needed to feel Samy’s presence more than just the exchanged glances. Her fingers slid along the embroidery on her sleeve before falling to her sides. She took a few steps back, positioning herself almost facing the ajar door, as if to get closer to him without seeming to.

In a discreet gesture, she reached her hand behind her, tentatively seeking Samy's, hoping he would understand her need for closeness, even if invisible to the rest of the world. It was a hesitant quest, almost imperceptible to the rest of the assembly, but Samy, observing her every movement, reacted immediately. His fingers found hers, their touch instantly bringing a wave of comfort.

Their embrace was brief but full of meaning. Without saying a word, Samy gently squeezed her hand, transmitting silent but profound support. A mute promise: “I’m here.” For Maëlle, this simple gesture gave her the strength to breathe more calmly again, her shoulders slightly relaxing under the pressure. They remained thus, still, as if this subtle bond enveloped them in an invisible bubble, isolating them from the rest of the world, the expectations, and the prying eyes.

The two older guards, also keen observers, did not miss this exchange. Their eyes met for a moment, and a discreet smile crossed their lips. They understood what was happening, but their loyalty and discretion dictated that they should not intervene, say nothing. It was not their role to judge these moments of humanity.

Finally, Maëlle slowly straightened, her fingers reluctantly leaving Samy’s. She cast one last glance at him, a smile almost imperceptible on her lips, but enough for him to know how grateful she was for his presence.

The time had come. With measured but assured steps, she ascended the platform where the other royal family members awaited. Silence fell over the crowd below, as if the whole world was holding its breath. The king began to speak, his speech rising into the air, carried by a powerful voice full of wisdom. Each word he pronounced seemed weighted, each phrase resonating with a gravity that only royalty could confer.

Maëlle, on her part, stood upright, but her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She heard the king speaking, but her own words felt blurry, distant. How could she find her place in this family, in this world, where every gesture, every word was scrutinized, analyzed, commented upon? She no longer felt in control of her fate, as if this role had been imposed on her without her say.

She listened, certainly, but the pressure continued to build within her, each spoken phrase resonating like an additional weight on her shoulders. The king spoke of the future, the necessity for the royal family to remain united in adversity, the importance of their role in maintaining the kingdom’s stability. Heavy words, crushing responsibilities. And Maëlle felt the vise tightening around her more and more.

Then came her turn. Maëlle, breathless, stepped forward with measured steps. She took her place behind the lectern, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. Before her, hundreds, perhaps thousands of faces. All focused on her, waiting for her to speak. Her throat tightened. The weight of expectations felt too heavy to bear, but she forced herself to talk.

Her voice, initially trembling, gained assurance as she progressed in her speech. Each word was a struggle, each phrase a victory over her own fears. She spoke of the importance of family, of solidarity, of the bright future that awaited them. But deep down, Maëlle knew that these words were what was expected of her, not what she truly felt.

After what felt like an eternity, her speech came to an end, and she finally left the stage to a wave of applause. But those applauses, though heartfelt, felt distant to her, almost unreal. Maëlle quickly moved away, her steps guided by a single desire: to find Samy. That was the only thing that mattered to her now.

She scanned the crowd as soon as she left the stage, her heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. And he was there, faithful to his place, waiting in the shadows, ready to welcome her.