For the next week, I felt out of place. After every time Heathcliff and I would make love, I felt victimized and powerless. Though I was respected in the kingdom because the peasants saw me as a saviour to rescue them from the torment leadership of Heathcliff and his parents, I felt isolated and abandoned because I was just a toy in Heathcliff’s game of rule. Until the night of the eighth day of our visit.
As Heathcliff’s grunts and moans of pleasure echoed through our chambers, I heard a disturbance downstairs. Pushing my fiancée off my naked body, I leaped off the bed. ‘Darling, where are you off to?’ Heathcliff asked, behind me. I shushed him as I slipped on my nightgown. Taking silent steps down the misty rose stairs, I peeked around the corner to the throne room. As the soft reflection of the midnight moon bounced off the polished floor, I saw a thin silhouette, leaning over the glass case of crown jewels that stood the left of the three thrones. ‘Excuse me!’ I addressed him. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’
The young boy turned around, disillusioned in fear. Dropping Harold’s crown into his small mesh sack, this adolescent peasant looked at me with sheer terror and shaking hands. ‘Answer me!’ With hesitant feet, the boy walked towards me; he walked into the soft glow of the candlelit lantern that stood as if a guard of the throne room. His slightly sun-burnt face appeared neutral with a whisk of astonishment. I, too, was astonished at this boy. There was something about him that interested me; intrigued me; excited me. He appeared my age, with dark hair that reached his eyebrows and chewed fingernails. Staring at each other, the loud steps of Heathcliff could be heard from above us.
‘What the devil is going on down here?’ he yelled. My fiancée’s annoyance turned to anger when he saw the boy standing in front of me. ‘Ah, a common thief! Stealing from the royal family, I see,’ Looking down, the boy had a slight embarrassed smirk. ‘I’m sorry. Is there something funny that I don’t know about? Enlighten me, peasant!’ The boy looked up at Heathcliff for half a second then resumed his gaze to me. ‘Do not look at the princess, peasant! You have not been given that privilege, boy!’ He looked back at Heathcliff. ‘I apologise, sire! I will return the crown jewels and leave the castle presently.’ Dropping the sack in front of him, the boy ran from in front of us and across the throne room hall.
‘Peasant!’ Heathcliff yelled. Interrupting his fleeing, the boy stopped just before the entrance. With a determined walk, Heathcliff made his way to where the boy was. Grabbing him by his hair, I gasped at my fiancée’s actions. ‘You did lawfully and dispassionately attempt to steal the royal family’s crown jewels and for that, you will serve time in jail, as all other thieves before you,’ A guard, dressed in the default blue and white uniform, appeared from behind the cream curtain. Grabbing him from Heathcliff’s clutches, the boy was led behind the guard’s entrance. As the guard held the back of his head, the boy gave me a desperate but romanticised look.
Heathcliff proceeded towards me; the burning sensation returned behind my eyes. My fiancée wrapped his arm around my bony shoulder; I shrugged it off and returned to the bedroom. Sex was the last thing I wanted to do to conclude the evening. Instead, I laid, wide awake, thinking about the boy and wondering if he was thinking of me. Those slim seconds of just staring at each other seemed to span across an eternity. The bright cyan shade of his eyes and curious yet delightful stare consumed my dreams that night.