She is the Queen

Chapter 29

Following another prolonged slumber, I stirred to consciousness, feeling considerably invigorated. Shortly thereafter, an individual - presumably a housekeeper - entered the room, bearing a tray laden with edibles and a bottle of analgesics. She placed the tray on my lap, eliciting a soft smile from me as I muttered my gratitude in Russian, "Spacibo."

Her initial response was one of surprise, swiftly replaced by a genial smile as she withdrew from the room, leaving me to my meal. After partaking of the food and swallowing the painkillers, fatigue began to seep back in, calling for yet another period of rest, which I surrendered myself to willingly. The expansive softness of the bed seemed to lull me into a deep sleep.

On awakening, I found myself cloaked in the inky blackness of night. An unavoidable call of nature forced me to attempt to rise, a task that proved to be quite challenging given my feeble state. It was then I noted a change in my attire; I was now clad in a loose, oversized white t-shirt that fell to mid-thigh. My underclothing remained undisturbed but the t-shirt was new. The absence of blood stains and evidence of injuries, replaced by the foreign sensation of a cast around my right hand and bandages on my left thigh, suggested a subsequent medical examination.

The revelation caused a moment of discomfort, but I brushed it off; survival trumped modesty in this case. It was no doubt due to these changes that I had been experiencing a level of comfort, despite my circumstances.

However, before I could navigate my way to the bathroom on my own, the door burst open. Alex walked in with an urgency that filled the room, his silhouette standing out against the dim backdrop, a beacon guiding my disoriented senses.

His figure, while certainly imposing, moved with an unexpected fluidity and grace that added an air of complexity to his persona – one that was hard to associate with the enemy I knew him to be. His eyes, a stark contrast against his dark features, shone with a concern that seemed misplaced in his hardened countenance.

Rushing over to where I was precariously half-sitting, half-standing against the bed, he effortlessly swooped me into his arms. The feeling of his touch was paradoxically reassuring; firm yet gentle. It took me by surprise; not the physical contact itself, but the conflicting emotions it stirred within me. Somehow, in that moment, his presence echoed an unexpected refuge, one that I was frustratingly thankful for.

Whatever the reason, I had let my guard down with Alex, and it was a mistake I couldn't afford to repeat.

"What are you doing?" His voice brimmed with intensity. "I need to use the bathroom," I informed him, leading him to release a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. His hand gave me a subtle yet supportive hold as I leaned onto him for support. He guided our steps towards the bathroom as I limped from my injured thigh.

When we reached the bathroom door, he held it open for me, concern apparent. "Are you able to manage?" He inquired. With a nod, I moved inside. The marble bathroom was chilled, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I limped painfully towards the toilet, an endeavour which lasted almost ten minutes. Alex voiced his worry from outside the door, "Are you okay?" 

"Yes!" I assured him in a loud voice hoping it reached him.

After finishing up, I announced, "Alex, I'm going to shower now. Don't wait for me." "No," came his immediate retort. Before I could protest, he explained, "You aren't steady on your feet. You could slip and hurt yourself." I resisted the idea vehemently but he was insistent.

"If you want to shower, I'll need to be nearby to ensure your safety. However, I promise to respect your privacy." Caught off-guard, I had little choice; I gave in reluctantly.