"I congratulate you, my king, for you are no longer a khanzadeh. I have told you that you would be more than a man in a field and it seems I was not wrong. I rarely am, to be honest. Look at yourself, my lord, you are wonderful. I am happy to have lived enough to see this, to see you again. And yet, my heart aches. Perhaps, in another life, I could have been your queen."
her speech would have been one of happiness and well accepted had it not been for her choice of words, the hesitation in every syllable and the ubiquitous sadness in them. how low the mighty tiger sank, how defeated his roar was, how dusty his tail was from being kept between his legs. she instilled fear in him, fear where there was once happiness at his crowning, though no crown was given or worn. she traded fear for love in each stride, but more than not was his love for her moulted into trembling and a bitten tongue.
”—you mean to say you are not my queen, my rock, my khatun?” the word seems to slip easily from the cracks of his lips. a powerful word with a powerful meaning, but it is not spoken in vain. she is unyielding, unbroken, and firmer than the foundations of the earth. she is among the few ranks of women who deserve to be called such, and he does not use the title sparingly. but it puts a block in his heart, crawling up his throat and threatening to leap out. “have i not pleased you? am i undesirable to you, that you leave me? are you... are you such a coward as to run from me unexplained, with this burden of love you have cast upon me!?”
[ a king with no c r o w n. ]
