A/N: Reminder: This story has been reverted back to the original version. Please see my profile for the revised version.

CHAPTER 4

The young queen lay on a simple bed before the fire, watching the flames and thinking of the burning of her city only two months ago. Tomorrow she would begin her return trip home to the people she'd come to love, but for now she was grateful for a chance to rest and clean herself off. And, she hoped, to see her husband.

Darkness had fallen outside, but still she hadn't heard from Van. Her bath had lasted all through the sunset, as it had taken quite a while for Rena to help her wash and detangle her hair from her days-old, matted braids. She felt so much more herself now she'd scrubbed away the sweat and grime of her travels and months in refuge. Rena had also changed out the bedding and taken her clothes to launder, giving her instead a silk nightgown and a robe.

Hitomi had missed this kind of comfort. Back in Fanelia, she was staying with her lady's maid, Yukari. Theirs was a simple existence, but, while Hitomi was safe and taken care of, proper baths were a luxury. It would be years before she enjoyed these palatial accommodations for herself in her own home again, but there was not bitterness in the thought. Her heart had been called to Fanelia, and so Fanelia she would help rebuild.

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?" a voice asked behind her. Hitomi squealed and jumped in surprise, then burrowed into the blanket, mortified. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Van when he'd come through the door. She began to laugh at herself in embarrassment.

"You couldn't knock?" she asked through her laughter, peaking at him over the blanket. In the firelight, she could see a little amusement in his face, but his eyes held her expectantly. Realizing he may have taken her bed on the floor as a rejection of sorts, she sat up and looked him full in the face. "I'm drying my hair," she told him truthfully. "Also, I find sitting in front of the fire very comforting."

He scrutinized her before replying, "I see." A moment later, Hitomi felt a bloom of joy rise within her as he went on, "There's something about looking into a fire that helps me calm my mind. Sometimes, if I'm having a hard time sleeping in a bed, I find I sleep just fine before the fire."

She couldn't help but smile up at him. "Do you also find it helps dry your hair?" she teased.

To her delight, he laughed at her question. It was a simple laugh, not much more than a chuckle, but she decided it was most delightful as his eyes sparked in the light of the fire.

"Dinner will be here in a few minutes."

"Thank goodness there is not a formal dinner," she replied, rising to her feet and facing him.

"There is, I just told them not to expect us."

"I'm glad," she said, meeting his eyes. Then, indicating to herself, she added, "Besides, I have nothing to wear." Van's eyes immediately started skittering up and down her body. Heat flooded through her when she realized too late that her robe had fallen open and exposed her nightgown, but she held herself with as much dignity as she could muster under his hot gaze. This was a look she wasn't used to, and her first reaction was a small degree of satisfaction.

Her second reaction was shame, as she thought that the war must've made her husband desperate.

She turned toward the fire and wrapped her arms around herself. After a moment, Van excused himself and strode into the washroom.

It wasn't an unfair thought, and she knew it. Her father was a general; she'd caught wind of brothels that popped up wherever troops were posted. She'd known that if her husband the king wanted to, he could satisfy himself whenever he caught the urge with whatever woman offered herself to him. But apparently, by the burning look in his eyes just now, that hadn't happened—in a while, anyway. And, guessing by the state of his room when she first saw it, he probably didn't have a mistress either. It occurred to her that if the latter were true, he probably hadn't had a mistress when they married.

She chastised herself for dwelling on such things and busied her hands by cleaning her lowly bed from off the floor.

A knock sounded at the door. Two footmen carrying their dinner were awaiting her orders, so she directed them to move a table so that she and the king could dine next to the fireplace.

Once they'd left, she crept before the fire again. Her speculation about her husband had chilled her. She turned her back to the fire to dry her still damp hair and sat looking out into his room.

It occurred to her just then that if Van hadn't asked her to stay, she would have been at an inn outside of town by this time. After he'd deposited her on his bed, he didn't have to return—she hadn't expected him to—but he had. And he was here again, about to have dinner with her, alone, in a room that he'd ordered bemade comfortable for her.

Hitomi felt a heat rush throughout her body that had little to do with the fire.

Was it possible, her husband, Van Fanel, wanted to be with her?