The King sat Iris down on the balcony railing, placing one behind her back and the other on the cold metal railing. It was wide enough for Iris to sit on, but the King made a safety bar on her back with his arms, bringing their bodies closer together.
âYou donât like peopleâs eyes, but are you okay with heights?â he asked.
Iris used to have a room at the top of the tower and was often scolded by her teacher for sitting with her legs dangling out of the open window. But she just nodded because such a story couldnât be said.
âWhy donât you like peopleâs eyes?â Sidrain probed further.
âItâs justâ¦â she couldnât find the right words.
Rosemary had been a woman who loved peopleâs eyes, but Sidrain didnât bother to say that. Rosemary was dead. She was no longer in the picture, and now his Queen was Iris. Sidrain kept quiet. Even though they had the same blonde hair, Irisâs hair was as sweet as honey. Even though they had the same blue eyes, Irisâs blue eyes were clean and lovely. Even with the same lips, goodness, hers were tempting. Heâd give her anything if he could covet those lips right now.
The features that he considered to be awful in Rosemary, were now lovely. It was strange, but on the other hand, it was natural. How could they be the same, when their movements, speech, and facial expressions were completely different? The same tree could be seen as firewood or viewed as artwork. That would depend on the perspective of the person looking at it.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
âDid someone bother my lady?â Sidrain asked.
Iris recalled her awful childhood, reluctantly. Elaine had been the only one whoâd been kind to her, so sheâd only followed him. The older she got, the more she knew that not everyone was unkind, but she still hated people regardless.
âNo,â Iris said no automatically and it was too late to take back what sheâd said.
Sidrain kissed her on the cheek and whispered, âWho was that man? Do I know him?â
âNo, not really,â said Iris.
âDo you want to say no?â
âNo, thatâs not it.â
âI canât get rid of the idea that my girl was bullied by someone and thatâs why she hates people.â
Iris looked up at his words. She seemed to be confused. He was unpredictable and scary at times and she didnât know why Sidrain was nice to her.
Looking at her sweet face, Sidrain was annoyed by his recklessness at the age of sixteen. She wouldâve opened the door if she had told him that she wasnât scared to take some sweet snacks, and he couldâve lured her out. It was a pity.
âBut Iâll believe it if you tell me youâve never been bullied. Iâm your husband.â Sidrain smiled and closed his eyes. âKiss your husband, my Queen. Then Iâll believe you.â
Iris looked at him submissively. Sidrain thought heâd never do something, like breaking down a door when he was sixteen, again. With sweet snacks, heâd lure her out, in the name of her husband this time. He waited in anticipation with his eyes closed. Slowly, he felt her breath approaching.
***
Iris looked at the Kingâs face, with his closed eyes, silently. It resembled a sculpture. She didnât mean like the idiom âhandsome,â but he had a statue-like look. He had no flaws but she thought heâd look like a plaster statue if she painted him with flour. Her face was close enough to know that he was breathing and he waited patiently for a kiss from Iris, with a gentle smile.
She approached slowly. Her lips trembled because it was her first time kissing someone other than her teacher. Her kiss made a wet smooching sound on the Kingâs cheek, but he didnât budge. She had just kissed her husband on the cheek. Wouldnât it be natural to at least kiss him on the lips? Even if it wasnât a deep kiss? He was her husband by law. But no matter how long he waited, nothing happened, and when he opened his eyes, Iris saw his face.
âMy Queen, what is it?â Sidrain asked as if he couldnât believe it. âDonât tell me you want to claim this as a kiss?â
âYou told me to kiss you, didnât you?â
âYes, I asked for a kiss.â By Sidrainâs standards, this was a greeting, not a kiss. Then it dawned on him that Iris must think that this is how people kissed, by putting their lips on someoneâs cheek.
In some cases, peopleâs lips met, but Iris thought it couldnât happen to her in her lifetime. Sheâd had a thousand kisses before but only from her teacher and her father. Elaine, the soon-to-be sixty-year-old man, had only been kissed on the cheek by her, of course. So in her world, a kiss was on the cheek.
âThis is not a kiss meant for a husband,â Sidrain said as he burst into laughter.