Chapter 13: The Queen

Iselda and Laima stood suspended in the quiet weight of the moment, catching each other’s breath. Laima’s emotions twisted into an intricate, chaotic knot. Was Iselda truly jesting? Surely, she had not murdered her own mother, all for the sake of avoiding an unwanted marriage.

“Tell me, Queen, why did you do it?”

Iselda nonchalantly shook her head, her demeanor entirely unbothered.

“Because I didn't.” She held Laima’s intense, searching gaze. She had no intention of spilling any secrets here and now. What they had shared for months had been purely physical, nothing more, even though Laima was keenly aware that Iselda harbored a profound crush on her; it was utterly obvious. Yet, it was no longer entirely one-sided. After spending countless nights locked in each other’s embrace, discussing practically everything under the stars, Laima was dangerously close to claiming the woman as her own.

“Please, I need to comprehend what transpired so I can defend you against it.”

Iselda displayed no interest in the gravity of the topic. She rolled her eyes and sighed wearily. “There is nothing to defend. I did nothing to them.”

She placed her hands against Laima’s chest, pushing gently to free herself from the confinement of the wall.

“My mother was typical queen material. She wed a respectable man of substantial wealth and a minute of intellect, ensuring she would fret over him whenever she departed for council assemblies.” She stepped toward the windows, drawing the blinds shut before slowly discarding her satin-like dress. Pulling the intricate laces against her chest, she let the heavy fabric pool gracefully around her feet. “She desired for me to become her mirror image, marry a strong man with wealth and intellect, ruling the Tunnel with stone cold heart and die a boring queen.”

Iselda slipped into her satin blue shorts with laced hems first, then languidly fastened the buttons of her matching nightshirt. She was fully aware of the intoxicating power she wielded over Laima; she was deliberately putting on a display, playing entirely on her own terms. Laima waited patiently, anchoring her temper as she listened to this defense of, I didn't kill my own family. She felt the persistent thrum of temptation, of course, but she possessed the restraint not to act on her desires. When Iselda abruptly sat on the edge of the mattress and ceased her elaboration, Laima’s patience frayed into irritation. “So, from what I gather, you simply aspired to be the fun Queen.”

Iselda looked up with an expression of pure innocence, a sudden laugh escaping her lips. “Hahaha! The fun Queen?” She dismissed the notion with a swift wave of her hand. “I possessed no interest in the tedious act of governing, darling. I merely desired to…” She stuttered, the words momentarily failing her as if she had lost her train of thought.

“You coveted power to secure your own whims?” Laima deduced. She was thoroughly exhausted by the calculated games Iselda was playing. Provide an honest answer or remain silent; that was her ideal conversation.

“I heard ancient legends. I researched them. I studied the architecture of the Tunnels. I am no impressionable, silly girl. I possess knowledge, and every single step of mine is meticulously calculated beforehand.”

Laima exhaled a heavy, ragged breath. “So, Your Highness, I implore you to cut to the conclusion. I am rapidly losing all interest in this dialogue.” She shifted her posture into that of a soldier ready for immediate deployment, hands locked firmly behind her back, eyes unblinkingly focused on Iselda, her feet planted shoulder-width apart to balance her broad frame.

Iselda tsked softly, clearly wishing to prolong the game. Like a child who had accidentally fractured her favorite toy, she pouted, crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and tucked her legs beneath her body. “Fine! You refuse to let me maintain an aura of mystery for once. You certainly favored it when I commended your wit for deciphering the master plan regarding my royal family. Tell me, have you ever heard of apatite?”

Laima offered a curt, singular shake of her head.

“Yes, I assumed as much. If you swallow even a minute fragment of apatite, it induces a swift, lethal intoxication. It poisons you completely. And as it happens, I possess a remarkable talent for crafting miniature apatites to embellish jewels.”

“So, you simply poisoned them.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“To what end?”

“I discovered a prophecy inscribed long before our era. It dictated that ‘a Queendom governed by two women, embracing a white morning glory within their gardens, will prove their ultimate worth and atone a greater cause.’ I simply pondered… what if I could be the chosen figure in that prophecy?”

Shocked into absolute stillness, Laima remained frozen, weighing Iselda’s far-fetched tale against her genuine, unfiltered reaction. Was she speaking the absolute truth? Her voice carried an undeniable sincerity, and the prophecy itself felt strangely tangible. After all, how else could one explain that they instinctively knew Elliott would become a pivotal piece of their lives, eventually arriving directly beneath Iselda’s roof? Could Iselda truly have orchestrated this entire grand design independently? Even discovering Elliott abandoned in front of her estate began to feel like a calculated plot. “You are speaking the truth,” Laima uttered, her voice laced with deep skepticism.

Iselda cast her gaze sideways before offering a slow nod. “Yes. Do you truly harbor no belief in prophecies?”

“Of course I don't. Do I resemble someone who places faith in non-existing fabrications?”

“It is not a fabrication. It is a manifestation of pure, unadulterated power and ancient magic. Generations long before us oriented their entire existence around them. There were entire factions dedicated to guarding those sacred words.”

“And where are those guardians now? Six feet under?”

“Haha. Incredibly amusing.” Iselda rose from the mattress, closing the distance to face Laima directly. “Elliott is bound to achieve something monumental. I am the destined Queen of that prophecy, and you are my second.”

“You orchestrated this entire marriage simply to fulfill the parameters of an ancient fairy tale. Is that it?” Laima challenged, her tone dripping with mockery.

“No…” Iselda countered hastily, before pausing to reconsider. “But upon second thought, yes. Though I do adore you! I truly do.” She deliberately reached behind Laima’s back, her fingers gently caressing her hands as she spoke. “I chose you to be the second Queen. I observed the white morning glories flourishing within your garden, and…” She beamed at the vivid memory. “…I knew instantly it was you. Naturally, I did not comprehend that the flowers were merely a poetic metaphor for Elliott at the time, but it nonetheless guided us to where we stand today.”

“You slaughtered your birth family merely to accomplish this? To marry the woman with the morning glories and perform… what exactly?” Laima could not grasp the elusive details of the narrative, and she despised being left in the dark.

“You refuse to believe in the absolute authority of prophecies. How could you possibly comprehend the weight of why I committed such an act?” Iselda wrinkled her nose in acute distaste, making it blatantly obvious that she was thoroughly displeased by Laima’s refusal to validate her life-altering, patricidal prophecy.

“And how could you be entirely certain the prophecy indicated you, or your specific tunnel? The text did not specify such details; you merely guessed.”

“In a way, yes. Furthermore, I begged my mother to grant me entry into the grand council assemblies, where I could converse with and study the other realms and hidden tunnels. I questioned many regarding these specific flowers; apparently, no one else was even aware of their existence. I even risked my own life to interrogate the Cursed Realm representatives about them.” She opened her eyes wide, dramatically pressing a hand against her chest to emphasize the sheer peril of the endeavor.

“So, you blindly assumed that the solution would magically manifest within your Tunnel the moment you… what? Murdered your parents and usurped the throne?” The pieces of the story refused to align; Iselda was clearly omitting critical details for her own selfish interests.

“Am I permitted to say yes?”

Laima rolled her eyes, deliberately withdrawing her hand from Iselda’s touch. “Summon me to your private chambers only when you are prepared to unveil the absolute truth. Only then will I evaluate your sincerity.” Laima turned on her heel to exit the room, but Iselda swiftly grasped her arm with surprising force.

“It is the absolute truth! Believe me! I beg of you…” Fear flashed through Iselda’s features at the prospect of letting Laima depart. She pulled her body flush against Laima’s once more, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Please, I was forced to act. Otherwise, she would never have permitted you to cross the boundary.”

Now the conversation was shifting toward real substance. “Who?” Laima demanded.

“Your Queen. When I questioned her regarding the mysterious flowers, she informed me that she had observed them blooming directly in front of your threshold.”

Laima narrowed her eyes, her suspicion mounting. “And?”

“She promised me that if I eliminated my parents, she would grant me the fulfillment of the prophecy, the white morning glory, and a Queen to rule by my side.”

“So, you acted entirely on the malicious will of another and murdered your parents?”

“Why must you remain so utterly fixated on this single detail?” Iselda’s voice escalated into a sharp, loud whisper. “Yes! YES! I did it. I have already confessed it to you. That is the entirety of it, honestly.” She seized Laima’s hand, pressing it firmly against her chest, forcing her to feel the frantic, erratic rhythm of the heart beating beneath her skin. “My singular desire was to achieve something truly magnificent. When I read and deciphered that prophecy, it became entirely clear to me that it was my destiny. It was about discovering authentic love, establishing a family of my own making, not merely serving as a hollow facade for my bloodline.” She looked deeply into Laima’s brown eyes, desperately searching for the soul concealed behind them. “This…” she gestured broadly between their bodies. “Us, Elliott, our joint Queendom. Everything is progressing flawlessly. We are predestined to make history. Future generations will speak of our reign as legend.” She resembled a naive child lost in epic hero stories, believing the impossible, acting entirely on a whim, forcing people into matrimony simply because she willed it so.

“Iselda.”

“Yes?”

“What you did was monstrously wrong.”

“And do you presume to be my judge?”

“I am your wife, so yes.”

Iselda pouted instinctively, but at the utterance of the word wife, a slow, captivated smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “My wife. Yes.”

“That is not the pivotal issue here.”

“But we cannot reverse the flow of time, can we, wife?”

Laima let out a sorrowful, exhausted sigh. There was no utility in pursuing the argument any further; she chose to retreat. “The next time you conceive a grand design of this magnitude, I would be deeply gratified to be included from the onset.” She paused, reconsidering her words before adding with gravity, “Actually, you know what? You are required to…” She pressed a threatening, firm finger against Iselda’s chest. “…notify me of every single shred of detail before you ever initiate action.”

Iselda chuckled softly, her amusement returning. “Oh. My dear wife felt excluded, did she?”

With an unreadable poker face, Laima replied flatly, “Do you comprehend my terms, My Queen?”

Iselda nodded slowly, leaning inward to press a soft kiss against Laima’s lips. “It is a pact, then.”

“It is.”