Chapter 8


Escorted by two of her royal guards, a meekly looking Joseph was ushered into the throne room. Upon seeing his Queen, Joseph became rather nervous. Today had not held a "meet and greet", nor was it a special occasion, yet Clarisse Renaldi donned her tiara and sat upright upon her throne.

His steps were small and slow, and a thousand things ran through his head; the first being her beauty. It wasn't the tiara, nor the diamonds she donned. It wasn't the dress, nor the pumps on her feet. Most had likely cost more than he made in a year, yet they were not the source of her beauty. He could compliment her make-up and hair, which came from a morning ritual lasting a half hour or more; but they were not what he saw. Something about her...something so damn wonderfully beautiful...about this woman, his Queen; something that radiated from her inner soul.

Reaching the first step to her throne, Joseph dropped to his knees, both knees. He lowered his head, waiting for her to speak.


At seeing his expression, her heart leaped. Clarisse could hardly hold inside what she wanted to tell him, why she had brought him here. Slowly making his way between the two guards, Joseph had never looked more humble. He was only a subject, another citizen of her country, an employee. He most certainly looked the part, so why did she feel he was so much more?

She watched his eyes, as they gazed upon her. The darkness reflecting the black of his clothing. She tried counting the buttons on his shirt, the belt loops of his trousers. She wanted to reach out and touch the single solitary earring, emitting a glare from the chandelier above. She wanted to run her fingers through his goatee, trace the outline of his lips. Yes, Joseph was so much more.

As he dropped to his knees, those knees she knew to be painful at times, Queen Clarisse lost all of her resolve.

"Please leave us," she ordered the guards, "I'd like privacy, please see to it." Her voice was stern, but nevertheless soft.

As the double doors echoed closed, Clarisse looked down to the top of his head, as he bowed before her.

"Joseph?" Clarisse spoke softly to him, watching his face come to view. She smiled at him, although she could still see the worry in his eyes. She stood, removed her tiara, and placed it on her throne in her place. Joseph watched carefully her movements, yet moved nothing but his eyes until she stepped down beside him, seating herself on the step.

Clarisse sat lady-like, tucking one foot behind the other as best she could on the small, low step. She needed to be near him.

"Joseph, dear Joseph," she slowly ran her fingers down his cheek. "I apologize for sending the guards. We need to talk, and I was afraid you were avoiding me."

Joseph heard her words, soft and lightly spoken. They were true, he was trying to avoid her. He could find no reason why they needed to speak, no reason that would constitute sending the guards. Choosing to remain silent, he waited for her to speak again as he fought against the overwhelming feeling to lean into her hand.

"I also want to apologize to you for...well for neglecting you and your feelings lately," she added, trying to get some kind of acknowledgment from him. "I am sorry, I got caught up in other things.." Immediately Clarisse wished she had not said that. She knew how it must have sounded, especially to Joseph.

"Other things that were more important, Your Majesty," Joseph finally looked her in the eye, knowing his jealousy was showing through his words. He didn't mean to sound angry and upset, yet the thought of her with another was too much.

"My tiara lies on the throne Joseph," she remarked, motioning up the steps to the royal chair. "Please talk to me. Me, Clarisse." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "And please, please get up, sit beside me."

Glancing in her eyes had been a mistake, it always was for him. His anger vanished, and Joseph was reduced to a living sponge, soaking up everything he could get from her.

Keeping the pain hidden, he moved himself over, lifting up slightly to sit on the lower step also. He stretched his legs out in front of him, trying to organize some thought into words.

"What did you need to talk about?" Joseph wanted to say so much more, but the words just would not come.

"I..ah..I wanted to tell you something, and I needed to ask you a question." Clarisse fiddled with her fingers, unsure of how to go about this.

"I'm listening."

"I guess it would be best to get to the point."

"Yes." Joseph watched her, never knowing her to be so nervous. "Is something wrong?" Joseph began to worry, leaning in to her. Her fingers entwined each other, her foot shook slightly, tapping the carpet underneath.

"Oh Joseph...why is this so hard?" She raised her eyes to the high ceiling, anything to clear them of him for just a moment. "Joseph, I can't do this any longer, I.."

"Stop," he interrupted. "Whatever it is, it can wait until you compose yourself." All he wanted to do was hold her, pull her to him and squeeze their lives together.

"No it cannot!" Clarisse broke down in front of him, finally submitting herself to the honest and heartwarming declarations that needed to come out. "I love you Joseph. I love you with everything I am, and I want to know if that love is returned...any at all." She let out the breath she had been holding, and inhaled an even deeper one, waiting for his response.

The weight of the world had been dropped, from her shoulders, from his shoulders, from the whole country.

"Buh..buh..but," he finally stuttered out.

"Yes or no Joseph, I don't take buts," she kindly tried making light of the conversation.

"That man...last night...Cairo..." Joseph had so many questions.

"That man, that man is just a very good friend, nothing more. How could he be? Joseph, I love you. If not for that man, well maybe I would have never realized it myself. I love you," she reinforced.

"Me? Not him? ME?" Joseph tried reasoning with himself. She had said that.

"You, Joseph, I love you." Leaning over toward him, her lips reached and found his lips, placing a soft, gentle kiss there. "I love you."

"You love me?" Joseph repeated, still questioning what his ears had heard and his brain had translated.

"Yes, Joseph we have settled that." Clarisse let out a small laugh at his boyish charm.

He looked at her, at the beauty beside him. Finally allowing himself the pleasure, he reached out to touch her. His finger ran the length of her cheek, down her neck, across her collarbone to...He stopped. Joseph could hardly believe his eyes. Yet there before him...the sand.

"The sand is pale, parts of it a little darker, with spots...light brown spots. Lots of them." Joseph mumbled out loud his own words, remembering every word as the old woman had told him to. His finger was upon the sand, his sand which rested upon Clarisse's chest. It was only befitting that it would cover her heart. There was no question in his mind any longer, Clarisse loved him, and it was a great love.

"Joseph?" Clarisse questioned him, unsure of what her words had done to him. He was off again, not paying any attention to her. She almost felt frustrated, but seeing the smile that lit his face erased any ill feelings in her soul.

"Yes, Clarisse, Yes." Joseph took her hands, squeezing them a little tighter than he would have liked. The excitement pulsed through him. "Yes, Clarisse, I love you. I love you. I love you."

As if having a mind of their own, Joseph's fingers slid their way behind her neck, pulling her to him. He grazed his lips upon hers, letting the explosion take its course naturally.