Tears of Adamas: A New Old-Fashion Fairy Tale Short Story Read Free Page A

The whispers of your captivity have spread across the land. I sought only to give you your freedom and return sustenance to the people.”
                  Adamas was very quiet as she pattered around her room and grazed her fingers over trinkets of gold—gifts from her father-king. Her very soul ached for his strong hand upon her shoulder and his gentle words of wisdom.
                  “You are the victor in this war, Gennaios. You have won the right to the throne.” The young man stood limp and gawping, his mind not fully understanding her words. “What would you do with me, my King?”
                  “I…” he stammered. “I would give you the gift of your freedom, my lady. That is all my heart has yearned for since the news of your captivity reached my ears. I did not come to be King.”
                  “And if I wished to stay, O King. Would you allow me my rooms and still my freedom?”
                  “If that was your wish but…I am no king, my lady.”
                  “What? Not chivalrous? Not kind? Not brave? Not a leader of the commoners? How do you say ‘not a king’?”
                  Adamas withdrew a roll of parchment from the folds of her gown and clutched it in her hand. “And if I were Queen, by right or by writ, would you then be King?”
                  Gennaios bowed his head to her and curled his fist over his heart. “With undying love and fealty, my Queen.”
                  “My Father-King knew of the hardness of Poneros heart even when the boy was but a child. He prayed the heavens would send one who is strong. Someone with as kind a heart as his own. And within a fortnight, I slept within his walls, brought here by his own calloused son.” The maiden unfurled the roll of parchment and held it before the young man. “My father, the King, declared in this testament that I should succeed him as monarch.” At this, Gennaios took a knee and bowed before her. “Not even his own son knew his will. For my life, despite my gifts, would have been forfeit at his leisure.”
                  “Gifts, Your Majesty?”
                  A tear formed on Adamas’ long dark lashes and deposited on the tip of her finger. “Is it witchcraft to cry precious gems? Wizardly to draw the facets of tears into jewels? Demonic to weep a treasure? The father of my birth gave his life for the cause of this gift. My master slew him by the sword and took me hostage for his own gain.” The perfect, fiery diamond rolled into her palm and she dropped it into his hand. This one small stone would feed the kingdom for a month. And a single man for years.
                  “I am your humble servant, my lady. No matter the fortune, I would not cause you to weep.”
                  “Then arise, my King and let us take our kingdom.”
    *          *          *
                  With the King’s will in hand, Gennaios and Adamas stood before the people. The high priest anointed them, first as man and wife, and then, King and Queen. The good people of Kalos Province cheered, overjoyed at the salvation of their children, and deliverance from starvation. The new King and Queen opened their coffers and fed all the peoples of the land. And when the coffers ran dry, they sold Poneros’ stolen tears of Adamas for more.
    *          *          *
                  The next spring filled the countryside with the jewels of mother nature. Lavender scattered in the emerald fields, roses of ruby climbed the castle trellises. And the cries of a babe, a daughter, added music to the beauty. On that day, Adamas cried tears of joy—blush-pink diamonds warmed with a mother’s love for a child. Birthed in the throes of Spring, the child, Esmeralda, with glittering green eyes cried emerald