The Gaze of a King

It is nights like these when the wind sweeps through the dusty streets--coating my thick brown hair--that I ponder over my life. The house is still. There is no pitter patter of tiny footsteps echoing through the house. No deep laughter rumbling from my love's chest. Silence looms all around me. For some this would be welcome tranquility, but not for me. The quietness is a hollow reminder that the man I love is someone far out of my reach fighting enemies instead of sharing these moments with me.As I pad softly across th

The tears that threaten to spill from my eye line sting excruciatingly. He sighs in satisfaction in my ear then gradually slides off of me. My muscles stiffen as I bite back a shudder of repulsion. I clench the velvety covers beside me and conceal myself quickly. When I look through the slivers breaking apart the strands of my tussled hair, I see the king's chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. He seems at peace.His lust has been quenched and his sanity has returned to him, but this is no

A finger tenderly sweeps away a thick strand of hair sticking to my face. I clench my stomach and focus on the soothing hand rubbing circles into my shoulder.I gag as the remnants of my breakfast resurfaces. A foul aroma stings the inside of my nose, intensifying lingering nausea. With clammy palms, I push up on my trembling knees and stand. Martha wraps her arm in the crook of my elbow to hold me up while I try to walk.

The violet silk draping from my head down my back encompasses my arms and hides my growing stomach. I stare uneasily out the window wondering, waiting, and hoping that the rumors my ladies overheard while they were in the marketplace are true.The King has summoned Uriah home. When I first heard the report from my ladies I was filled with sheer terror mingled with longing. I miss him so much. For months at a time I have thought of nothing but him. Every night I worried over his safety and wondered if he was still alive.

The faces of these men that I recognize so well blur as my eyes begin to sting. Tears stream down my cheeks, unleashing a torrent of emotions that I cannot hold back. These soldiers who served with my father and with Uriah in the King's elite group of warriors called the Thirty have ripped out my heart with three words."Uriah is dead."