The Queen

His world looked like a storm. I was going to be its center.

It’s a strange thing to discover how much you matter to people you didn’t really know you mattered to.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

He'd said all the words I'd ever hoped to hear: queen, wife, adore. The dreams I'd stored in my heart were actually comint true.

But shouldn't there be a least? Shouldn't there be a bare minimum that life should give you? Is it too much to ask for a job you don't hate, or for someone to truly have and hold? Is it too much to ask for one child? Even one some would call flawed? Couldn't I at least have that?

On the contrary, he was a mystery I was excited to solve.

For as harsh as his words were, his voice seemed to caress my name

Because if it was a choice between him or me, I didn't think I'd be able not to put him first. He was the prince, and his life was invaluable to the country. But more than that, it was invaluable to me.

I’m desperate for peace. I think you might be the only chance I have at that.” I smiled. “The center of your storm?” He exhaled, looking relieved. “Yes.

It’s more than that. You’d take a bullet for him if you had to.” I didn’t answer. “You would! Oh, my goodness!” I stood. “I’m going to grab some of those dresses. I’ll be right back.” I tried not to be afraid of the thoughts in my head. Because if it was a choice between him or me, I didn’t think I’d be able not to put him first. He was the prince, and his life was invaluable to the country. But more than that, it was invaluable to me. I shrugged the thought away. Besides, it wasn’t as if it would ever happen.

This was joy. This was love. So many words you hear about or read about and now...now I knew them.

My body didn’t care for me, so what did I care for it?

he gave me a wink and a crooked smile, and I was left there, grinning like an idiot.

It’s a strange thing to discover how much you matter to people you didn’t really know you mattered to. Or to find that the slow disintegration of yourself causes a smaller version to happen in other people.

His world looked like a storm. I was going tp be its center.

Not love, maybe not even affection, but something a degree or two beyond basic concern.

This was joy. This was love. So many words you hear about or read about, and now . . . now I knew them. When