Love Untouched

Frying Pans and Intuition

EDITED!

Milis walks silently down a long corridor, allowing her thoughts to wonder freely. Memories of that day- that fateful day- come rushing back to her. She sees a younger version of herself holding her first born close to her chest and a younger King Eric wrapping his arms around his greatest treasures. The image shifts and changes to reveal the prince rolling on the floor with his mother hovering over him laughing and playing. Again, the picture changes: Milis clutches the bars of the empty crib and sobs so fiercely that she falls to her knees. She screams in agony as reality sinks in- her son is gone.

            The queen forces herself to stop walking and close her eyes to rid the thoughts from her mind. Tears involuntarily slide down her cheeks. Milis quickly wipes her face when Vita enters the hallway. Before the two had arrived in Sahara, Milis had begged her husband to reconsider her offer. The queen had wanted to ask their dearest allies for aid in searching for the lost prince. Eric had refused saying that aid was not required and that if the Gods want them to find their son, they will. At the time, Milis had accepted her husband’s decision. But he doesn’t understand. Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t understand the hope that still clings to his wife. He doesn’t understand that although the queen cannot prove that her son is out there waiting for them, she has a very strong feeling that he is. It’s a mother’s intuition and so no man will ever understand.

            Quickly, Milis calls out, “Vita,” she hurries down the stairs where the Saharan queen had stopped to wait for her friend.

            “Is there something you need, Milis?” Vita asks. The queen’s chocolate eyes fill with worry for her friend.

            I don’t know who she does it. How does Milis hold herself together when she doesn’t know whether her son is dead or alive?

            Milis offers a kind smile. “I was wondering, Vita, if you could spare a moment?”

            “Sure,” the queen nods. “My husband’s in his office. I’m sure he’d be delighted to speak with you.”

            “No,” she pats Vita’s arm. “I meant just the two of us.”

            The Saharan queen can only nod before leading her friend to her private study. Once the large wooden door is shut, Milis relaxes on the leather couch facing two, dark book cases. Each one is lined with dozens upon dozens of books, some old, others new, of all different colors and textures.

            Vita sits on the couch and faces Milis. “What is it that you need, my dear?”

            The queen of Liam straightens in her seat and leans in. “First, you have to promise that Eric will never know of this conversation. He’d be furious if he knew that I was speaking to you about this.”

            Vita’s brows furrow in confusion.

            Eric cannot know about this conversation? I was sure that Milis and Eric told each other everything. Why start with the secrets now?

Without further hesitation, she nods, wanting to know more of this forbidden topic.

            “Although Eric will not admit it, we need your help.” Milis’ eyes well up with tears.

            The Saharan queen’s confusion lifts. “We spoke of this yesterday, did we not? You and Eric need help suppressing the riots and revolts. We know and, don’t tell Richard I told you, but we have agreed to help you all with that,” Vita smiles brightly. “We’re going to send troops right after you depart for Liam.”