Tell me good morning husband. Whisper to me how much you love me as I lay in our cold bed. Gossip with me about the nobles. Tell me you miss me, kiss me slowly and take my heart. I am yours though you are not mine. You could never be mine. Nevertheless, lie to me just one more time. Let it all be a bad dream.
But the truth is it's not a dream. I awake in the morning in a lonely bed, caressing my empty stomach. There is no warm body resting next to my own and there is no whisper of love in my ear. My husband, where have you gone? Where do you dwell? Who keeps you warm at night? Tell me of the woman whose arms you lie in; tell me how much better she is than I am. Or lie to me, husband. Let there be another lie between us, add another stone to the wall that separates us because what is one more stone?
I imagine my beautiful husband asleep in the arms of a golden-haired woman with fluttering blue or green eyes, his heart pounding against her body so she can feel it against her skin. I imagine her to be as white as ivory with a young, lithe body able to bear child after child and perhaps you have impregnated her, my husband. Let her have your bastard son and keep me as you do now, caged. I am a tigress who never tires of her cold bed.
There is a knock at the door and a little maid walks into my elaborately decorated room with a bowl in her tiny hands. She is very small, in both height and weight, and has long, golden hair that hangs down her back to her waist. She could very well be the woman that holds my husband late at night.
"Tell me something, girl," I say, my voice hoarse. "What lies did he murmur while you laid together in lust? Did he ask you for a son?"
She looks at me blankly. "M-milady?"
Suddenly there are tears in my eyes but I am not sad, only furious that this woman had my husband when I did not.
In my lands, I am a valued woman. No girl would think of touching what is rightfully mine, my husband, my king, Alexander… "Did he tell you how much he hates me?" I ask this girl. "Curse me as a barren witch? Do you carry his child in your womb?"
The girl begins to tremble and her green eyes brim with tears. She is silent but I do not want to hear the truth. She has lain with my husband and carries his child.
"No, my queen," she says in a shaking voice. Just another lie. Lie to me.
"Leave," I say. A single word, a single demand. Leave, you said, my husband, as I came to your chambers late last night. Leave me, Roxana, you said. Now I tell your own whore to leave me.
The door shuts and I am in a cold bed. The curtains are drawn because I do not want to see the sun that reminds me of you. You are my sun; you are my light, am I nothing to you? Lie to me, my king. Tell me I am your moon and sanctuary. Tell me I am what no other woman can ever be. Bring your lips to mine and declare your love. Lie to me.
I can hear you in my head, your voice like a slithering snake. I can feel you in my limbs, your body stealing my strength for yourself. So selfish, my husband. Why do you take another's bed? What is wrong with your own? Is it the woman that lays in it with her vacant womb, a womb you cannot fill? Come to me and give me your seed, plant it in my stomach and let it grow into a prince and one day a king. Tell me you will, lie to me one more time.
A group of aristocratic men and women come to my rooms to bring me company. They do not dare touch the curtains or light a candle so we sit in the dark, as I like.
"Will Alexander come see me today?" I ask a young man who has skin as dark as my own, hair black like mine, and eyes neither blue nor green. I trust this man; a man who could never had been a traitor with my husband. He is called Begoas.
"The King is not feeling well today," Begoas says as fans me with a rich, golden fan from my homeland. Another lie. He does not want to see you, he means. Don't tell me truth. Lie to me for the king.
"Does he ask of me?" I inquire.
"Always," the pretty man says. Another tale, another lie. "Sheikander is lucky to have you for his wife. You are as beautiful as he says."
I do not thank him for he is right. He married me for looks and unity. There had never been any love between us. It was marriage meant to merge our families and nations for peace and alliances, for my dowry and small fortune. A small price to pay to be queen and wife to the most powerful man in the world. I would never have had it any other way, as I do not regret my decision.
Begoas bows and smiles. He looks almost feminine he is so beautiful. I cannot help but ask… "Do you know the king well?"
"He is a great man," Begoas says simply. "He treats all very good."
"Yes he does," I say. It is just another lie, a lie I have told for the king like this man who also lies for him. You told him you loved him, husband? Tell me you did not…
Lie to me for it is all I know.