INT #1: The Queen
I glance at the clock. It is a little after midnight.
The Queen, not Queen but another Queen, my Queen, sits on the edge of a cedar chair by the dressing table in her bedchamber, waiting for the knock on the door. When will it happen? Tonight or tomorrow morning, perhaps the day after that, but she knows it will come. And when it does she will rise to open the door and the man on the other side will hang back in the shadows, fearful, shaken. As he steps into the flickering light he will bow his head as normal; usually out of respect, right now because he cannot look her in the eye. She will bite her lip and she will want to say I know, I already know, but that is not how this story goes and besides before she can… “Ma’am,” he will say. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but… The King… He’s…”