The Midas Touch

Chapter 12: Queen Rosalie, age 34

Power wears out one's soul. Ever since he came to be king three years ago, he had been changing, little by little. No, he hadn't changed towards me, but deep inside, something was different.

I knew, he was afraid of his brother. Many times, I'd told Midas that he had inherited a powerful kingdom, with a powerful army and lots of resources. His brother had become unpopular ever since news came out that he was the one who'd killed the great king. Certainly, Midas knew better than me about the kingdom's treasury.

But he was worried.

"I'll make this country rich and strong, Rosalie," he'd told me more than once. "Then we will be able to sit in our thrones in peace."

"We are in peace right now," I'd replied. "You are being harsh to your subjects. They have done nothing."

"You are too kind, Rosalie," he said. "Men are power-hungry. They demand more every day. We need more authority to maintain our position."

"Midas..."

"I'll make us strong, don't worry." He sat beside me on the bed, kissing my womb. "I'll create a better world for our little jewel." He placed his large hand over my womb, which was still flat then. I was pregnant, but I had just gotten pregnant, and the news was kept from everyone. Midas was afraid that some would want to kill the baby.

He was gentle and loving, he was understanding, but only when it came to me. He never meant any ill will towards his subjects, but by doing what he thought was protecting me, he was harming his people.

"You're worrying again," he noted while gazing at me.

"Had we been an ordinary couple, living in an ordinary house, we would be perfect."

"It's alright, Rosalie. We only need a little more authority." He'd listened, but he hadn't heard me. "The celebration dinner is tonight. The gates will be open. It's a good chance to test our subjects."

As his woman, and as his queen, it was only natural that I would do as he instructed. I took my ring off, and stored it in my boudoir. Then, I took a spare diamond ring and put it in a box, and slipped the box into my sleeve. At Midas' signal, I dropped the box. As he'd expected, it was stolen.

Midas cared not who stole it. He was concerned with proving to me that our subjects were greedy and undisciplined.