Page 76 of Queen
She doesn’t reach for me. She doesn’t soften. She just watches me kneel, the crown slipping from my head and shattering at her feet.
And still—I love her.
The Meal Before the War
The storm hasn’t passed. It’s only shifted. The confession still hangs in the air between us, sharp as glass:I love you. And it’s destroying me.
I carry the tray into the room like it’s a weapon, not a meal. The silver rattles with each step, a tremor I refuse to admit is mine. Zina sits upright in the bed, her body swathed in gauze, bruises blooming purple across her skin. She looks like ruin and regality stitched into one body.
I set the tray down on the low table beside the bed. Bread, olives, a cut of rare steak bleeding into porcelain. A bottle of red already uncorked. I pour, slow, deliberate, the dark liquid glinting like blood under the lamp.
“Eat,” I command.
Her brows arch, lips twitch. “So this is your grand love? Bread and orders?”
The words cut, but I don’t flinch. I slice the steak, spear a piece, and hold it out to her. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just watches me with those eyes that burn holes clean through armor.
“Don’t make me feed you.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” she says, but her jaw tightens as if daring me.
I shove the fork between her lips. She bites—not the food, me. Her teeth graze the metal like a warning. She chews slowly, defiantly, her eyes never leaving mine.
The atmosphere thickens, heavier than the storm outside. My chest pounds. My hand lingers too long as I wipe a streak of wine from her mouth with my thumb. Her lips part, soft heat against my skin. The moment flickers—then she snaps it, her voice low, vicious.
“This is what you call love? Control wrapped in linen?”
I lean closer, my breath hot against her ear. “This is survival. And if I have to choke you with it, I will.”
Her laugh is sharp, cruel. “Then maybe I’ll choke you first.”
The knife flashes in her hand before I see her take it. She presses it flat against my chest, right over my heart. The point doesn’t pierce, but it could. One push, and I’d bleed.
I cover her wrist, twist until the knife clatters to the floor. Her lips curve into a smile that isn’t victory, isn’t surrender—just war.
“Go on, Emiliano,” she whispers, taunting. “Show me what your love looks like.”
Three nights pass before she takes her place at my table again. The bruises are fading now, but I see them still—on her throat, along her collarbone. Reminders. Wounds I didn’t put there, but which bleed into me all the same.
The dining hall glows with candlelight. Silver catches the fire, plates gleam with untouched food. I’ve ordered more than either of us will eat: steak charred rare, figs slick with honey, wine dark as sin. A feast for ghosts.
She sits across from me, spine straight, silk clinging to her shoulders. She doesn’t fidget. Doesn’t flinch. She lifts her wine glass like it’s a weapon.
"You've never done this before," Zina observes, her voice a silken thread woven with suspicion. "Dinner by candlelight. Pretending we're civilized."
I lean back in my chair, the ghost of a smile playing on my lips. "Perhaps I'm full of surprises."
She scoffs, the sound a delicate challenge. "Or perhaps you're just full of shit."
The corner of my mouth twitches, and I can't help but admire her spirit. "Is it so hard to believe I might want to enjoy a meal with you, Zina? To savor more than just your body?"
Her eyes narrow, but there's a flicker of curiosity there, too. "And what else do you wish to savor, Emiliano?"
I let my gaze drift over her, lingering on the swell of her breasts. "Every inch of you," I confess, my voice dropping to a husky growl. "Your mind, your wit, your passion... and yes, your exquisite body."
Zina shifts in her seat, her composure slipping for just a moment. She's fighting it, the raw, animalistic attraction that crackles between us like lightning seeking ground. But I see the way her nipples harden beneath the silk of her dress, the way her breath hitches ever so slightly.
My knife carves through meat, steady as a blade through flesh. “You needed strength.”
