The King's Cursed Bride

Trouser-Clad

Author's Note: Above is a rather crude depiction of the training yard, but I figured it was better than nothing. :)

***

The Next Day

Carissa sat up, blinking the sleepiness from her eyes. The other side of the bed was rumpled, its topmost sheet folded over, an impression left in the pillow. It seemed Elon had come and gone without her noticing.

Carissa slid out of bed, the urge to cry sneaking up on her slowly and steadily. But she wouldn't. She'd asked for this, after all. She drifted to the vanity and seated herself. She didn't want to hurt Elon, but she hoped he understood. After all, it wasn't unreasonable to not trust someone you'd only known for all of seven days, this being the eighth.

After breakfast yesterday, Elon had let her explore the palace and stay abed as much as she pleased. He was so thoughtful... But how could he possibly love her already? Love came slowly, giving one time to decide whether or not this was the person they'd truly give their heart to. But could she truly trust him? After all, she'd wed him more out of sheer desperation than love. Could a decision made under such circumstances truly be a sound one?

Carissa ran her fingers through her knotted black hair, waiting until her lady-in-waiting arrived. Elon had made his decision years ago, and he'd had all of that time to think it over. She'd made her decision days ago, when she was drowning in her own despair and pain, and she'd barely had a moment of quiet since.

Allowing him to alter the course of her life any way he pleased, without needing an explanation, was a steep price to pay for their relationship. It would require an amount of trust she wasn't sure she possessed at the moment, but given time...

Her gaze caught on a folded piece of paper, her name written across the top in elegant cursive. She picked up the slip, unfolded it.

I'm sorry for leaving early without saying goodbye. I had matters to attend to. But I hope to see you later today for training—an hour past noon in the training yard. Though the weather will initially feel cool, please wear lighter clothing. And trousers.

Carissa rolled her eyes and kept reading.

Oh, don't give me that look—I know you well enough by now to know you're making one. I'm aware you don't like trousers, but they're practical. And on you, quite flattering.

And I know you want time and space apart from me, but please make an exception for training. It's necessary. And I miss you.

Love,

Elon

She pressed the note to her chest. It was rather soon to miss her... but she missed him too. Surely an hour or so with him wouldn't infringe on her need for time and space.

***

"Carissa!"

A tiny form flew into her side, and she nearly stumbled to the floor. At least she wasn't wearing a skirt she could trip over. A quick glance downwards revealed Aleck squeezing her waist in a hug.

"Aleck! Be careful with the queen."

Carissa looked up. A knight approached them, his jaw darkened by stubble, his dark brown hair gathered in a stubby ponytail. He was dressed in trousers and leather jerkin, and his glistening forehead suggested he'd been training. He was Sir Valen—the one who'd rescued her from Akar and spoken to her when her request to see Elon was denied.

Aleck's tongue darted out. "She was my friend before she was your queen."

Sir Valen halted a few feet away from her and bowed. "Your majesty. I'm afraid you'll have to excuse the abrupt greeting. Young Aleck has yet to learn to respect authority."