“Your Majesty,” Hazel cried, frowning as she watched Robert walk to the bed, slump down, and drop his head onto her shoulder.

Hazel cupped her husband’s face, looking intently at his pallor. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed a crease forming on his forehead.

“You look pale and troubled, my king. Nothing has changed?”

Robert groaned. Savouring the warmth of her palm on his cheek, he placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes.

“It’s warm,” he murmured. “It’s melting my cold heart, Hazel.”

A sweet smile crept over Hazel’s face as she scrutinised his features as though seeing him anew—the thick brows, the pointed nose, and the eyelids that shaded his deep-set eyes.

King Robert was a large man—six feet tall, broad, and solid. Sitting beside his petite wife, with his head resting on her shoulder, he resembled a Goliath beside a David; Hazel, delicate and slim, reached only to his chest.

“Hazel…”

Hazel heard Robert’s soft mutter and responded with a hum.

“What should I do now?” He opened his eyes, meeting Hazel’s gaze. His brown eyes locked with her leaf-green ones.

Robert’s heart fluttered as though he were beholding those glinting eyes for the first time. He realised, once again, that no matter how many times he looked into them, they would always feel new to him, stealing his heart repeatedly.

And her blond, lustrous hair—he reached out, gently stroking it—was like silk, perfectly complementing her golden skin.

Her beauty was rare, Robert would think. Her complexion, her eyes, her hair—each feature unique.

The people of Mazi and the surrounding regions typically had black hair, brown or black eyes, and fair skin.

“Hazel is the most beautiful woman in the Mazi kingdom.”

Robert would boast to other kings whenever they suggested he take a mistress.

“I believe this crisis will pass, my king. You look so worried, and that makes me worry for you, Robert,” she said, gently caressing his brow, her eyes searching his face with concern.

“The children keep dying, Hazel,” King Robert grunted, shutting his eyes as though haunted by the thought. “I’m the king, Hazel. It disturbs me deeply. I find nothing to resolve the situation, instead, it only worsens.”

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“You are a king, not God, Robert,” Hazel replied, her eyes brimming with tears.

A strange disease had swept through the Mazi kingdom, spreading quickly among children and claiming many young lives.

The outbreak had lasted for three months, and still, there was no cure. Parents mourned their children, and their cries for help troubled the king and queen. They continued to hope for an end to the crisis.

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost hope already, Robert,” Hazel said, her voice breaking with emotion. She could not tell if she spoke more to him or herself.

Upon hearing her weeping, Robert snapped his eyes open. He raised his head, cupping Hazel’s face and gazing into her teary eyes.

“Hazel,” he called softly, searching for words to console her. His own eyes grew moist as he struggled to find the right words. His heart was heavy, and he, too, needed someone to reassure him.

He fought back the urge to cry in front of her. If he did, Robert thought, how could he convince Hazel that all would be well?

Pulling her into his arms, he patted her back and kissed her head. He whispered, “You mustn’t cry, my queen.”

“I’m sorry, Robert.” Wiping her tears, Hazel pulled back, looking up at him.

“It’s just that…” she trailed off, lowering her gaze to their entwined hands. “I’ve been hoping all day for good news since you told me Ranya believed they've found the cure. I spent the whole day waiting, but…” She shook her head and looked back up at Robert.

“My hope shattered when I saw your expression as you came in. I know nothing has changed, Robert.” Hazel sniffled, trying to hold back her tears.

“I’m sorry for being so emotional. I know I must seem foolish, especially after encouraging you to remain hopeful.”

“You’re allowed to cry, Hazel, come here,” he said, pulling her back into his arms and resting his chin on her head. “I’ll comfort you this time, my queen.”

“Sophie is here, Your Majesty,” announced a voice outside the door.

“Sophie? What’s she doing here?” King Robert asked, looking at Hazel.

“I requested tea for you when I heard you’d returned from Reed.” She glanced at the door. “Come in.”

Sophie, a slim, fair-skinned young woman with black braided hair, entered. She wore a maid’s pinafore and held a tray with a cup, saucer, and small jug.

Setting the tray on the stool beside the queen, she poured the king a cup of tea and handed it to him.

“Would you like some tea as well, Hazel?” Robert asked, watching the steam swirl up from the cup. “It’s warm,” he noted, looking at her. “It’ll warm your heart.”

“Robert!” The Queen Mother's voice suddenly rang out as she entered.

“Mother,” Robert exclaimed in surprise, both he and Hazel looking up.

“I came to ask about today’s meeting,” she said, smiling at her son.

The Queen Mother, a stout woman in her fifties with a round, smooth face and clear black eyes, watched her son sip his tea before he answered.

“It’s the same, Mother. But I’m hopeful everything will be fine soon.”

The Queen Mother nodded and gave Hazel a lingering look before glancing at the tray on the stool.

“Who brought the tea?”

“Sophie, Mother,” Hazel answered as Sophie acknowledged her presence.

“Why Sophie alone?” She demanded, turning to Hazel. “Where is the food taster?” She hurried over to Robert, snatching the cup from him. “You shouldn’t be eating or drinking anything without the food taster, my king!” She scolded, then turned on Hazel. “Why did you order tea for him without notifying the food taster? What are you trying to do to my son?”