At first, Yeara had doubted it. She had seen her earlier, yet she wasn't sure it could be Ella. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her—after all, she hadn't seen Ella in a long time.
But now hearing that familiar voice that lingered in the air just like how Ella usually called her…the only difference was that this time it sounded more mature than usual.
With shaky breath, Yeara turned, and there she was..Ella. There was a weak smile on her lips. She had grown more beautiful; her features were still the same except they were now grown.
Her hair was packed in a bun — ever since childhood that was the style she liked. She was wearing a light purple gown, the bump on her stomach visible that she was pregnant.
"E..Ella," Yeara's voice cracked. Never in her wildest dream would she have thought this would be the way she would find Ella, not like this.
Her body remained still, refusing to move. Ella laughed softly, her eyes slightly watery as she walked towards the frozen Yeara. She gently hugged her. As she pulled away, her eyes searched her face.
"Oh my heavens Yea, you have gotten much prettier. I could barely recognise you, but thanks to your hair," she said softly as she smiled, tears falling from her eyes. Yeara just stared at her. Finally a drop of tear fell from her eyes rolling down her cheeks as her hands twitched, not knowing if she should touch Ella's face or not.
"Ella, is that you?" she asked softly as if to confirm properly. Ella cleaned her tears as she laughed softly.
"Oh yea, you have not changed a bit," she said, and Yeara laughed softly. She moved gently, hugging her friend, careful not to lean in too much considering she was pregnant.
"I cannot believe this," Yeara smiled as she moved her hands to wipe her cheeks, her eyes still filled with surprise. Ella smiled as she held Yeara's hands, carefully leading her towards the bench area at the middle of the garden.
They sat. Yeara was trying to wrap her head around it all. Her eyes moved to Ella's bump. Ella's gaze followed hers. She smiled at Yeara's curiosity before she moved her hands to her stomach, softly circling it as she spoke. Her eyes moved up at the sky, staring at the flying birds before lowering her gaze back to Yeara.
"After that escape… I was beaten," she spoke, and Yeara's heart dropped. No wonder that scream she had heard — it had come from Ella being beaten. Guilt clothed her eyes.
Ella smiled softly. Her hands moved to hold Yeara's which was atop her lap, gently caressing it as she continued.
"The parents which were supposed to take you took me instead, and I stayed with them. Last year I got married to Regent James from the kingdom of Kinfer and…"
She stopped as she looked at her tummy and finished,
"Here I am."
They both laughed softly as she stared at Yeara, curious if she had been here and she had no idea.
"I am getting married to the King," Yeara spoke finally to quench the curiosity in Ella's eyes. Ella's face lit up, her smile growing.
"Oh my, that is wonderful news. Congratulations."
Yeara managed a small smile as she looked away. Earlier she had blamed him… she thought that the pregnant lady was his mistress and she had said things that she ought not to say.
"Is something the matter?" Ella asked as she observed her friend. Yeara immediately shook her head.
"Not at all," she said. Ella's gaze deepened on hers before it returned to normal. She nodded with a small smile on her lips
"We arrived today to visit the King, but it seemed we came at the wrongest time as he was not around. But heaven was on our side and not long after the royal carriage came."
Yeara nodded. From what she could tell, it was obvious that this was not the first time they were visiting the King. She moved her feet, her shoes moving through the silk-well-trimmed grass as the feel was great even though her legs were not directly touching it.
Their heads moved to the side at the sound of footsteps. A maid arrived, her body trembling slightly, her head low. She walked towards them and lowered her gaze, bowing deeply.
"Your Grace, His Highness calls for you," she spoke softly and respectfully.
'Your Grace?' Yeara thought to herself.
Ella stood as she smiled softly.
"I will take my leave now, and also I need to practice calling you by that glorious title," she spoke, and Yeara laughed softly at her words. She stood as well. She turned and followed the maid. She wondered what must have scared this maid that she was trembling this much.
She entered the castle as she followed the maid up the stairs. The woman's head remained low. Finally they climbed another stair and then they stopped. The lady walked the hallways — it was empty and calm save for the chandelier lit up with candles on each step.
'A chandelier in a hallway?' Yeara wondered in surprise. She had never thought in her life that a chandelier would be in a hallway. No doubt His Majesty's room was at this hallway. She looked to her side as she noticed that there was a large painting. It was a painting of a boy. He had royal clothes, expression still cold..he looked like Zalthor.
Yeara stopped in her tracks, not believing how slow she had been to recognise him. Her eyes looked at the little boy's face—there were lots of resemblance.
"Your Grace," the maid called out as Yeara snapped back to reality. She had forgotten she was supposed to follow her.
'Why did he call for me?'
She wondered why Zalthor suddenly called her.
She walked to the large door where the maid now stood in front. She looked around and realised that there was no door in this hallway —just one—as if Zalthor wanted only one for him. At the other side was a railing that you could stand at to look down. This place was so different than she had thought, almost like she was living in the future even though she could not quite tell how the future looked like.
She finally stopped in front of the door as the maid bowed, and with that the maid began to leave. Yeara's heart, for some unknown reason, began to beat as she moved her hands to the knob.
She moved, taking in a few deep breaths as if that would help calm her and give her courage, and finally she pushed the door open.
She entered before shutting the door closed. Her eyes looked around. The room was enormous, it was like two large rooms combined. This alone screamed luxury without screaming. Yeara's eyes just stared around. The place had an intimidating aura similar to Zalthor's.
'Where is h—'
Her thoughts died as her eyes rested on the bed, and there Zalthor lay. Some strands of his red hair fell over his face, some slightly touching his lips. Eyes lazy, one hand at the back of his hair, his shirt was unbuttoned. Her heart skipped as it trailed down.
In one hand he held a cookie—it was like he had taken a small bite. His eyes moved to her as he slowly bit on the cookie.
In a deep, slow yet husky voice he spoke,
"Come have a bite, wife."
Yeara's body stilled in place at his words.
Was that temptation or invitation?
Or a Trap?