Fate | Baldwin IV

nights together

As the night wore on, the celebrations continued without interruptions. Minstrels played their melodies from across the Mediterranean, and the laughter of nobles echoed throughout, mingling with the sounds of cicadas and the occasional clink of silver goblets. It was a time of joy, caused not by our marriage but merely by wine. And as the night deepened, it became time for the king and I to retire.

I was in the midst of conversation, catching up with Aisha, who sat at the king's table with a reserved modesty. We exchanged smiles from time to time, the ice between us slowly breaking. At first we spoke politely, still keeping our distance. But as time passed, the masks fell off eventually. I acknowledged that I had deeply offended her, for such accusations could not only take one's life but also the honor of one's name. I had lost my temper, and been blinded by my misjudgments, but it was all resolved in the end when Aisha also admitted that she felt sorry for the way she spoke and that she didn't actually mean them. The king heard it all, yet he didn't say anything, just listened quietly at my side. He didn't question any of it either, not then, not later. He was like a ghost between us, just there, unmoving.

But then I felt a light touch on my arm. He leaned in, his lips near my ear, his thin veil separating us. "I must return for my treatment," he whispered. I stared ahead, taking a moment before turning to face him. The duty of being his wife meant I should rise with him, accompany him to our chambers. I gave him a small nod, gathering my skirts.

As we stood, the feast fell into a momentary lull. All eyes turned towards us—the nobles, the visiting dignitaries, even those serving the table. The king gave them a slight nod, urging them to continue without us. His gaze moved briefly to the table where Salim sat with the men who bore the air of Salahuddin's court. Salim bowed his head, as if he was signaling something to the king—perhaps that he would soon follow, I could only assume.

Aisha stood as well—she couldn't remain at the head of the table without the king's presence. When she lowered herself into a deep curtsy, the only thing that separated her from the rest of the ladies was her simple attire, which was stained with food at the skirt. She was dismissed by the king, and relieved from her duties for the rest of the night. She was also employed by me at the very same time, to be in my service once again starting from tomorrow, but not as my maid this time. She would be my companion, and she would be treated like a lady.

The king and I excused ourselves and moved towards the entrance slowly, our arms linked, our steps measured against the soft ground to hide his limp. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the eyes of Salahuddin's men following us as we made our way through the courtyard, but there was no intrusion in their looks, only a quiet respect that spoke of recognition between enemies who might have, in another life, been friends.

The halls inside had grown dark, lit only by sparse torches set in sconces along the stone walls. I could hear the faint murmur of the feast behind us, now fading away into the distance. We walked for some time until we finally reached the private grounds. The corridor ahead was almost empty, save for two guards flanking our chamber doors and a figure standing before them. There, one of the king's attendants waited, the small chest of sweets from earlier in his hands. He stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"Your grace," he began, "they have been tested and found safe for you to eat." He held the chest towards the king, its gilded edges glinting in the firelight.

Baldwin eyed the box before looking at the attendant, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We're supposed to eat before we enter?" he asked to confirm.

The attendant nodded, his expression earnest. "As far as I know, that is the custom, your grace. You take a bite and then enter the room."

We exchanged a quick glance before hesitantly reaching out and taking a piece from the assortment. Mine was filled with grounded pistachio, the texture rich, the flavor overwhelmingly sweet. Baldwin lifted his veil discreetly, taking a bite as well. I glanced at him secretly, catching a glimpse of his face and the far-off look in his eyes as he considered the taste, his brows slightly raised. "It's good," he murmured to himself. I couldn't help but smile at him, at how he looked so adorable, almost child-like in my eyes.