The wind rustled through the tall grasses of Veridia's outskirts, carrying with it the scent of roasted corn, freshly baked bread, and the sweet, almost dizzying smell of sugar candy. Years ago, long before war had hardened his heart, Adam was simply a wanderer—a man guided by instinct and curiosity, free from the burden of destiny.
He had been traveling for days, his horse Maximus steady beneath him, when the scent of something familiar caught his attention. It was the sweet fragrance of sugar—candy, to be exact. The scent drew him to a humble stall in a small village square nestled on the kingdom's border. The small village was a crossroads where merchants and traders from all over came to sell their wares. Adam's mind wandered to a memory of his childhood: his mother baking treats, the smell filling the house and mingling with the aroma of wildflowers.
As Adam stood at the stall, he selected a few pieces of the candy, savoring the sensation of it dissolving on his tongue. He didn't know why, but this simple act of buying candy brought him comfort, reminding him of simpler times. The moment felt sacred, a brief respite from his burdens.
Then, just as he turned to leave, a woman bumped into him. She wore a hood that covered most of her face, a subtle attempt to hide her identity, but her posture and the way she carried herself spoke volumes. She was no common villager. The second woman with her, her maid, had the same regal air, though dressed plainly, as if to blend in with the common folk.
The woman at the stall glared at them. "Hey! That candy isn't free."
The hooded woman froze and turned toward the stallkeeper, her expression sharp, her pride evident. "Do you know who I am?"
The vendor's voice was unwavering. "Money... or your hand."
A tense silence hung in the air. Adam, who had been watching this scene unfold, stepped forward with a calmness that contrasted the rising tension.
"I'll pay for both," Adam said, placing a few silver coins on the counter without hesitation.
The woman, still standing in the middle of the market, eyed him with a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Who do you think you are? Why would you pay for me? And who says I can't afford it?"
Adam glanced at her with a knowing smile. "Well, obviously you didn't pay, and I don't want to carry a violent scene with me today. It's not my idea of a good memory."
The woman blinked, taken aback. No one had ever spoken to her like that before—not with the kind of ease he had, or the disregard for her title. It was this confidence, this complete indifference to her station, that caught her attention.
She held his gaze for a moment before breaking it, her lips forming a wry smile. "You're bold. I'll give you that."
And just like that, Adam turned to leave, allowing her the space to retreat into her own thoughts.
Her maid tugged at her sleeve. "Your Majesty, we must return to the palace. It's almost noon."
Adam didn't notice, but a man hidden in the crowd had. One of King Malik's spies, observing the interaction, quickly followed the Queen and her maid back to the palace. His task was simple: report everything. He was to gather information, watch, and report.
But when the spy returned to the palace and informed King Malik of the encounter, the king dismissed him with a casual wave. "Everything is fine. Continue your work."
Days passed.
Then, as if guided by fate itself, Adam returned to the village again. This time, he was looking to purchase new iron hooves for his horse, Maximus. It had been a long journey, and the horse needed care. As he was perusing the blacksmith's wares, something familiar tugged at him.
The same two women—one cloaked and disguised, the other clearly a maid—entered the market, their presence unmistakable. Adam's eyes met the Queen's, and she raised an eyebrow, recognizing him instantly.
"You again?" she asked, her tone more amused than annoyed.
Adam leaned against the blacksmith's counter and crossed his arms. "I'm here to buy new hooves for my horse. What about you? You're not from around here, are you?"
The Queen's lips parted as though about to speak, but her maid quickly intervened. "My master lives here," she said, her voice sharp. "That's none of your business."
Adam smirked. "Well, the people around here don't usually have your... grace. Are you sure you're from here?"
The maid shot him a glare, her cheeks flushed with irritation, but the Queen's expression softened. She laughed softly, then said, "I've come to find some of the finest grain for my house."
Adam nodded. "Good luck with that," he said, before turning to leave.
The Queen's gaze lingered on him, her curiosity piqued more than ever. What kind of man was this? And why did he speak to her as if she were just another woman—without fear, without reverence?
The next day, she found herself in the village again. Not to buy grain, nor to acquire anything of value, but to simply see him again. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly in her chest.
Her maid, of course, noticed her pattern. "Your Majesty, this is dangerous. You're married to King Malik. He'll find out."
The Queen hesitated. The truth was, she hadn't loved King Malik for years. She'd married him out of duty, but her heart had never been his. He was cruel, manipulative, and unfaithful to her with a countless number of women. She felt trapped in a gilded cage, her life controlled by the whims of a man who never saw her as more than a pawn.
"I know," she whispered softly, almost to herself. "But Malik has never loved me. Not truly. He cheats on me constantly, with dozens of women. Why shouldn't I have one man to call my own?"
But her maid's eyes widened. "Your Majesty, this is... reckless."
The Queen didn't care. She was tired of being silenced, of being ignored, of being nothing but the king's possession. That day, after watching Adam again from a distance, she made a decision.
She followed him once more, this time to a blacksmith's stall on the outskirts of the village. When she saw him, her heart raced, but this time she didn't hide behind her maid. She approached him with a smile that could melt any man's resolve.
"Are you done?" she asked, her voice low and playful. "I'd like to invite you to dinner. Will you join me?"
Adam stood still for a moment, eyes narrowing. "What's in it for me? How do I know you're not leading me into a trap?"
She laughed, and the sound was like music. "Same question to you. How do I know you won't kill me in my sleep?"
He met her gaze for a long moment. "Fair point. Where should I meet you?"
With a knowing grin, she replied, "I'll arrange a place."
And just like that, the Queen arranged a secret meeting place—an apartment outside the palace walls, where no prying eyes would find them. When Adam arrived, they shared a simple meal—bread, fruit, wine. They laughed as if they had known each other for years, exchanging stories and teasing one another.
But there was something deeper, something unspoken, in the way they looked at each other. And when the night grew quiet, the Queen said softly, "I need to tell you something. Will you still be with me?"
Adam, his voice steady but filled with warmth, replied, "I'm listening."
"I'm the Queen," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Adam's heart skipped a beat. But he didn't flinch. Instead, he looked her in the eyes and said, "Queen or no Queen, you are a bold and beautiful woman. That's all that matters to me."
The relief on her face was palpable, and for the first time in years, she felt seen. Not as the Queen of Veridia, not as a pawn in the king's game, but as herself.
That night, in the warmth of the small apartment, they shared more than just a meal. They shared their hearts.
The morning light broke too soon, and the Queen fled back to the palace, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what had passed between them.
But the spy had seen everything. He had watched from the shadows and reported back to King Malik. The King, enraged, sent his men out to find Adam. But when they searched for him, they found nothing.
The Queen was punished for her actions—banished from the palace, sent to live on a small piece of land far from the city. She was allowed no more than a few trusted servants, and her title was stripped away.
She never spoke of Adam again, but she carried his child.
And the King? He did nothing.
Until now.