Darian rose abruptly from his seat, feeling the cool evening breeze on his face as he tried to gather his thoughts.
/I shouldn’t think about such things….its drink’s fault/
He glanced back at the book lying on his desk, the page still open to the damning accusation against Prince Angus. He slammed the book shut and went to bed, hoping to clear his mind of the unwanted thoughts.
—-
As the days passed, King Inglud grew increasingly impatient for Darian to choose a wife. But the prince’s thoughts remained in turmoil, unable to find the right match. On a quiet morning, Darian found himself standing in front of queen’s chambers once more. He entered without looking up, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts. Only when he had crossed halfway across the room did he realize Nymira was breastfeeding her child near the window.
“I beg your pardon, my queen.” Darian’s face flushed with embarrassment. He should have knocked before entering.
“It’s all right,” Nymira replied, stepping back from the window and towards the fireplace. “You have always been welcome here, even unannounced. Besides, I’m sure you’ve seen me half-naked before.”
Darian couldn’t help but feel uneasy at her words. He recalled the events of the previous day and wondered if mother had become colder towards him after their encounter.
“I should probably come back another time.” Darian bowed, ready to turn around and leave.
“Would you like to hold him?” Nymira held the baby out to him.
Darian hesitated for a moment before nodding, his gaze fixed on the baby in her arms. As she passed the child to him, Darian struggled to keep his eyes from wandering downward.
Nymira walked over and held the baby out into his arms, pulling child away from her lush breast. He saw mother’s nipple for a brief moment before she covered it with her nightgown.
“The king will be here shortly. Have you decided on your wife yet? Is that what you came to discuss?” Nymira’s tone was polite but distant, as though she were simply going through the motions of a conversation. Darian shook his head.
“Not yet. I am still considering my options.”
Darian gazed down at Tartuf. The child’s tiny hands wrapped around his own fingers.
As Nymira went to change, Darian turned away, gently bouncing the child in his arms. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders as he considered the daunting task of choosing a wife. The King’s expectations were high.
“The requirements of conquerors,” he repeated, his mind racing with thoughts of political strategy and dynastic succession. “It’s not just about love, is it?”
Nymira emerged from the closet, now dressed in a new green nightgown with a sweetheart neckline. Her blond hair was twisted up into a bun, and Darian couldn’t help but notice the curve of her neck and the delicate lines of her collarbone.
“You can give him to me now,” she said, holding out her hands for Tartuf. Darian reluctantly handed the child back, feeling a pang of regret as he watched Nymira cradle him to her chest.
“You’re a bad babysitter,” she teased, and Darian couldn’t help but grin.
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