Touch of Flame

Chapter 303 Words That Wound

?

Meredith halted in her tracks as she stepped into the lavishly adorned dining hall, the grandeur of it all making her eyes widen. Cascading chandeliers threw a warm, inviting light around the room, twinkling like a sky full of stars. Long tables draped in fine linen were adorned with centerpieces of blooming flowers, their scent wafting through the air. Bowls brimming with exotic fruits, silver platters laden with mouth-watering delicacies, and carafes of fine wine glistening in the candlelight decorated the table. 

Her gaze drifted over the elaborate spread, a slow smile spreading across her face as she recognized her favorite dishes, meticulously prepared and presented. The familiar, comforting aroma of her beloved cuisine stirred a sense of nostalgia, warming her from within. It felt like an homage to her preferences, a deliberate and considerate effort to make her feel special.

And there, amidst all the grandeur, stood… Richard. For a moment, she thought, maybe hoping for her husband. He was dressed impeccably in royal attire, and he wore a gentle smile that reached his eyes. The sight of him, patient and inviting, made her able to suppress the sadness of the realization that he wasn't Russell. 

"I hope you had a good rest," he said, his voice low and soothing.

Taken aback by the unexpected gesture, she queried, "What is all of this?"

"Just a nice dinner. We haven't had one in a while," he responded simply, the sincerity in his voice undeniable.

There was a moment of hesitation before she approached the table. Richard, ever the gracious host, pulled out a chair for her, beckoning her to sit. As she settled into the plush seat, he pushed it in gently before taking his place across the table. He motioned to the servants, who promptly started serving the feast.

"You didn't have to do all of this," she said, her gaze darting between Richard and the food.

"I wanted to," he insisted, his gaze steady.

"Where is Andrew and the rest?" 

"He is dining with Corinna and his wife," Richard explained. 

"We could just dine with them," she said feeling uncomfortable with this sudden change. 

"Meredith," he began softly. "It is just a nice dinner. Ones we used to have before when we were good friends. I hope at least we can go back to that." 

She smiled. "That was a long time ago. We were so young." 

"And happy. I hope for us to find some semblance of peace and happiness now as well." 

She smiled faintly, her throat burning. She wasn't sure how to start over. How could she do it without Russell? Without the love of her life? 

She swallowed the tears and focused on the food.

As they ate, Richard engaged her in light conversation, tactfully steering clear of topics that might stir painful memories. As the evening wore on, warmed by the gentle glow of candlelight and the rich wine, Meredith started to let her guard down, reminiscing about the past.

He listened to her, attentive and understanding, allowing her the freedom to express her true feelings. Even when the words she spoke veered towards sadness or nostalgia, he offered comforting words, demonstrating a level of empathy she hadn't expected. 

With a subtle wave of his hand, Richard dismissed the servants, leaving him and Meredith in solitude. She visibly relaxed, her stories flowing freely, tinged with a melancholy that mirrored his own. 

As Meredith unfolded her memories, he felt his own loss magnified, reflecting back at him through her grief. He recalled his wife - Evanora- her vibrant smile, compassionate eyes, and the warmth of her embrace. His heart echoed the hollow void that the death of a spouse leaves behind. 

Many times, he wished that fate had chosen him instead, thinking that his brother would have done a better job with his life, but there was no point in dwelling on that now. He had already done it and it led nowhere.

Veering the conversation away from loss, Richard steered it towards their happier memories, moments that encouraged and uplifted. He broached the topic of parenthood, hoping the shared experience of raising their children would offer strength and perhaps even a sense of solidarity.

Having shared their sorrows, joys, and moments of pride, Richard sought to uplift the evening further. He beckoned the musicians he had arranged for. "Let's dance," he said, offering Meredith his hand.

Gracefully, if a bit unsteadily, Meredith accepted his hand. As they stepped onto the dance floor, he pulled her close and they began to sway gently to the music. Their dance progressed from a slow rhythm to a lively tempo, her movements fluid and sure. 

Meredith, slightly intoxicated, loosened up and moved with carefree abandon, her laughter ringing out melodiously. Richard saw the vibrant, spirited woman his brother had loved, and it filled him with a joy he had not felt in a long time.

"Come on, your majesty," she teased, leading them into a whirl, Richard struggling to keep up with her lively pace.

Their joy was abruptly punctured by a surprised voice. "Mother?!"

They stopped, the music fading into a sudden silence. Standing at the entrance was Andrew, his eyes wide with disbelief, his wife Princess Yvraine beside him, equally stunned. Their interruption cast a sudden chill over the jovial atmosphere, the echoes of laughter fading into awkward silence.

Caught off guard, Meredith hastily stepped back, straightening her dress and clearing her throat. "I suppose we were getting a bit loud," she said, attempting to lighten the awkward situation.

Andrew merely blinked in stunned silence. Corinna, too, had appeared behind him, her brow furrowed in confusion at the scene before her.

"We were just enjoying a dance, Andrew. Would you care to join?" Richard offered.

Andrew's gaze bounced between his mother and Richard, his lips thinning into a disapproving line. "Yvaine and I are retiring for the evening," he stated briefly. "Have a good night."

With his wife in tow, Andrew swiftly exited, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. Corinna excused herself as well, her parting words were a diplomatic, "Enjoy your evening."

Once they were alone again, Richard turned to Meredith, concern etching his features. "Do you have any idea what upset him?"

She shrugged slightly. "Well, he's been angry with you due to your past indifference towards me."

Richard nodded, the reasoning made sense.

"Should we also retire for the night?" Meredith asked.

Agreeing, they returned to their chamber, each taking their accustomed side of the bed. As usual, they turned away from each other, the room sinking into quiet darkness. Richard could sense Meredith's restlessness, her quiet breathing irregular in the silence.

"You suffer from nightmares," she spoke up unexpectedly, her voice floating to him through the stillness. "Many...including about your wife."

Caught off guard, Richard remained silent, uncertain how to respond.

"You miss her," she added.

His heart clenched at the simple acknowledgment, the depth of his loss too vast to put into words.

"You're the king," she said after a moment. "You could try finding someone else."

Surprised, Richard's eyes snapped open. Was she suggesting he take a mistress?

"I wouldn't object," she added softly.

Despite her reassurance, he couldn't fathom the idea. Right now, his reunion with his daughters filled his heart with enough warmth and satisfaction. Without a word, he closed his eyes again, allowing sleep to claim him. 

Morning arrived with a flurry of hushed voices that failed to maintain their intended secrecy. Stirring from his sleep, Richard found himself alone in the chamber. The source of the voices seemed to be coming from outside. As if his senses had sharpened overnight, he found himself drawn towards the balcony, where the voices grew louder.

Now closer to the closed glass door, Richard could discern their words more clearly.

"Andrew, that's enough. Let's discuss this another time," Meredith's voice was strained with weariness.

"No," Andrew refused adamantly. "I need to address this before it spirals out of control. Have you joined his side now?"

Intrigued, Richard edged closer, peering out. Meredith stood there, a frown creasing her forehead. "What are you implying?" She asked her son.

"You know what I'm talking about, mother. Father had deserted us. He left you. And now, you wish to forget all of that?"

She drew a deep breath, attempting to control her emotions. "He didn't abandon us. Your father had numerous responsibilities...and couples argue, but we have moved on from that now."

"Moved on?" Andrew retorted, his words striking as sharp as a blade. "Is that your definition? You think I'm naive, mother. You've moved on now, because suddenly 'uncle' is showing you some attention?"

Uncle?

Even Meredith appeared as startled as Richard.

"Andrew?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I know the truth," he sneered. "What did he do to change your mind? Or were you simply desperate for any attention?"

Unable to bear the blatant disrespect any longer, Richard swung the door open and stepped onto the balcony. "Andrew," he called, his voice heavy with disappointment.

Andrew swung around, his eyes blazing with a hatred that cut deep.

"That is no way to speak to your mother," Richard admonished sternly.

A scoff escaped Andrew's lips. "Ah, I see," he drawled, an insidious blend of bitterness and sarcasm tainting his voice. His accusing gaze fell on his mother. "Has he now taken up the role of your gallant protector?" A bitter chuckle escaped his lips.

"And what else does he do, Mother? Has he replaced Father in your heart as well... in your bed?" The stark implications of his words reverberated through the room, making the atmosphere go from tense to explosive.

With a swift movement, faster than Andrew could register, Meredith's hand connected with his cheek. The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room. 

The room fell into a shocked silence, everyone frozen in place, the echo of the slap still ringing in their ears. Even Meredith seemed taken aback by her own action, her hand trembling slightly as she slowly withdrew it, her eyes wide with shock, horror, and a deep-seated sorrow.

Andrew touched his reddened cheek, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. Wordlessly, he turned away and stalked off, leaving a stricken Meredith behind. She turned towards Richard, her eyes mirroring the shock he felt.

Gently, Richard approached her, taking her quivering hands into his. "It's alright, Meredith. I'll go and speak with him."