My Contrary Mary

by Cynthia Hand

  “Yip!” said Flem.

  “Things will change—they have changed, I mean, now that Francis and I are wed. I’ll be visiting his chambers frequently, I imagine. Perhaps, in time, we’ll even share the same rooms.” Her heart quickened at the thought. They might even share the same bed. It would be unusual for a royal couple not to keep separate chambers, but not unheard of.

  Flem gave a lusty howl.

  “It’s not like that,” Mary said. “We didn’t actually . . . you know.”

  Flem whined.

  “Well, we couldn’t very well do it with my uncle standing right outside, could we? Did you know, he actually anointed Francis’s bed with holy water? And he was listening! I could just picture him with his ear pressed against the door.”

  “Growl,” said Flem.

  “Right? So we bounced around on the bed a bit, like children, so my uncle would think we were . . . you know . . . doing our duty, and then we played cards, and we talked.” Mary was grateful that Francis hadn’t brought up any serious topics, like Liv again, or the treaty with the uncles. “It was nice.”

  “Woof!” said Flem.

  “And we’ll get to . . . you know . . . eventually. I think. But we won’t really need heirs until Francis is king, and that’s years away. So we have loads of time.”

  As if on cue, King Henry stumbled out of the dining hall with his arm slung around an uncomfortable manservant. The king had apparently recovered his sight. “I see horses!” he bellowed. “I see banners! I see trumpets and cheering!”

  “You see trumpets, Sire?” asked the servant.

  “Oh, I hear them, too. Mark me, it will be the greatest jousting tournament the world has ever known!”

  Clearly the king was on to his next lavish “vision.”

  Mary and Flem dashed into an adjoining hallway before Henry could spot them. Then they ran all the way back to Mary’s room. Once inside, they came upon Mary’s ladies already assembled: Liv and Hush, that is. Mary’s heart sank. Still no Bea. And where was Ari?

  Mary swallowed. “How are you this morning? I trust that you all enjoyed yourselves at last night’s festivities?”

  In a flash, Flem was a girl again. “Some of us enjoyed ourselves more than others,” she said, looking pointedly at Liv, whose face remained totally impassive.

  “It was a beautiful night, Your Highness,” said Hush. “One we’ll always remember.”

  Mary twisted the gold ring on her finger—a replacement, now, for the amethyst one.

  “She and Francis just played cards all night,” Flem reported a bit glumly. “But they seemed cozy enough this morning.”

  “Manners, Flem,” Mary warned, and Flem dropped her eyes to the floor with a suppressed smile.

  Once her ladies had dressed her, and Hush was seeing to her hair, Mary’s gaze flitted again to the window and the empty perch.

  “No one has seen Bea?” Mary asked.

  “No,” Liv answered softly. “And we’ve had no other word.”

  “I could go sniff around for her,” offered Flem.

  “All right.” Mary couldn’t imagine that Bea would be close enough that Flem would catch her scent without leaving the palace grounds, but there was no harm in her trying. “But please be careful, dear.”

  “I’m always careful.” The light flashed.

  But that was exactly what Bea had said before she disappeared.

  Liv opened the door for Flem the spaniel to run out.

  “And where is Ari?” Mary asked when the dog was gone.

  “I don’t know,” Liv replied softly. “I haven’t seen her this morning.”

  Mary reasoned that Ari was probably off stewing over the impromptu announcement of Liv’s impending nuptials to the Norwegian lord. It was unfortunate that Liv and Ari must be separated. But it was necessary, Mary thought grimly. They’d all known the day would come when Liv would have to marry a man—even Liv herself had always seemed resigned to the idea—but now, because of her disloyalty, that day would have to come sooner rather than later.

  “The rest of you may go, as well,” Mary said. “We could all use a day of rest.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Hush placed one last pin in the simple knot at the base of Mary’s neck, and took her leave.

  But Liv lingered. “I’d prefer to stay, if I could. There are some things I’d like to discuss.”

  Of course Liv would want to talk about it.

  “Not now,” Mary said lightly. “I’m going to write a letter to my mother and send it the old-fashioned way. At the very least we can find out if Bea ever made it to her.” But it would take a very long time, weeks, perhaps months, to receive a reply.

  Liv swallowed. “I know you’re worried about Bea. We’re all worried. But—”

  “Perhaps she was betrayed,” Mary said smoothly. “By someone whom she thought she could trust.”

  Liv’s face grew pale, her eyes wide as they met Mary’s cold gaze. “Mary. I—”

  “How long have you been spying on me for my uncles?” Mary asked.

  “Only a few weeks,” Liv answered in a quavering voice. “I swear I didn’t mean to . . . I never . . .”

  “What exactly do they have over you?”

  Liv bowed her head. “My sister has gotten into something of a scandalous situation. She’s fallen in love with an E∂ian. If anyone were to find out, the entire family would be ruined.”

  Mary tamped down any sympathy. She had to be hard. She had to be a queen. “You could have come to me about it.”

  Liv shook her head wildly. “I wanted to, but your uncles said if I told you . . .”

  “Do they know about . . . the mouse?” Mary asked.

  “No. They do not even suspect that you might be . . . They think of E∂ians as a different class from themselves. And I would never tell them. I promise I am still your friend, Mary.”

  Mary’s eyes burned, but she didn’t allow herself the luxury of tears. She swallowed hard. “I can no longer trust you, so I can’t have you with me anymore,” she said sadly. “Now, please go. You have your own wedding to plan for.”

  Liv took a breath like she meant to argue but then thought better of it. She nodded. “Yes. All right.”

  When she was gone Mary wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she went to her desk and began to compose a new letter.

  Dear Mama . . . She paused. How would she even describe the wedding to her mother? There was so much. And how would she slip in a question about Bea that only her mother would be able to decipher?

  “Why are you being so cruel?”

  Mary looked up, startled. Ari had come into the room, standing with her fists clenched by her sides.

  “Cruel?” Mary asked. “Cruel to whom?”

  “To Liv. You’re marrying her off to a stranger.”

  Mary rubbed at her temple. She had a headache coming on, and Excedrin hadn’t been invented yet. “I am doing what’s best for her.”

  She really thought she was. Of course, she was furious at Liv, but she wasn’t being vindictive. Mary had chosen a good match for her, a man who Mary felt could be well suited to her headstrong friend, who would provide for her and even care for her, perhaps, in a place where she’d be safe and far away from the influence of the de Guises.

  “What’s best for her is to stay here with . . . you,” Ari said.

  Mary sat back and eyed Ari appraisingly. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, with authority, “you don’t know Liv as well as I do.”

  “I probably don’t, but I know that she loves you,” Ari burst out. “She is loyal to you, and true. She said you were a family, and you would take care of us, always. And now you’re throwing her away!”

  Mary blinked back more sudden infuriating tears. She drew herself to her full height and leveled Ari with a steady queen-like gaze. “Liv knows how things are done here, and you do not. It is expected that I should arrange marriages for my ladies. That is why their parents agreed to part with them so long ago, so that th
ey might marry well and bring honor and fortune to their families back in Scotland.” This was all true, although it was more customary to arrange these marriages to men within the French court, so that the ladies could remain by Mary’s side. But that wasn’t prudent with Liv, now. She couldn’t be trusted, Mary told herself again. She must be sent away. “That is the promise I made to them, and I will see my ladies wed to men I deem appropriate for them. All of my ladies. I suppose that now applies even to you.”

  Ari’s face drained of color. “But, Mary, I beg you—”

  “You are being too familiar, Ari, to come to plead with me on her behalf. I know you are fond of Liv, but she has accepted my decision. So should you.”

  Ari was scowling now. Her fists opened and closed again helplessly. Then, without another word, she spun and fled the room. The door banged shut behind her.

  Mary let out a breath. She didn’t want to send her best friend away, but what could she do? Her uncles were using Liv to spy on her.

  She bit her lip. Her uncles’ actions were so underhanded it was hard to see them as anything now but villains. On the other hand, if they had wanted to depose Mary as queen, or harm her in any way, they could have easily done so at any time. It even made a kind of sense that they would employ one of her household to observe her and report back to them, so that they would always know exactly what was going on in Mary’s life. But it still hurt.

  She couldn’t trust anyone but Francis now, which made her feel lonely. She cleared her throat. For a few minutes she tried to concentrate again on writing a letter to her mother, but her mind kept wandering back to Liv. Finally she sighed and set aside the quill.

  She would go speak to her uncles. Perhaps, if she got it all out in the open, she could find a solution that wouldn’t involve sending Liv to a foreign country. Perhaps, if she gave the uncles a chance to explain themselves, she could release Liv from the hold they had over her. And then perhaps Mary could forgive her, and they could all move on.

  They were a family, as Ari had said. And Mary had promised to take care of them. And so she meant to.

  At her uncles’ door she stopped, suddenly nervous. She would have to be cautious with her words—revealing that she was aware that Liv had been informing on her but not revealing how she had come to this knowledge, making sure all the while that it was clear that Liv herself hadn’t told her.

  It would be tricky.

  It might be outright impossible. Her uncles were shrewd and discerning men.

  Her fist hovered in the air in front of their door, but she did not knock.

  She heard them talking, inside. About the wedding.

  “It was lovely. It went off even better than we planned,” Uncle Charles was saying.

  “It was perfect,” agreed Uncle Francis. “She was perfect.”

  Mary swallowed. That word—perfect—had been applied to her so often: the perfect child, the perfect queen, the perfect girl. It was a heavy word. She rather hated it.

  “And now we’re moving smoothly along. She and Francis are made for each other. You should have heard them last night. Their coupling was unusually enthusiastic.”

  Mary’s face burned. She pressed it to the cool oak door. Which helpfully allowed her to better hear this mortifying conversation.

  “Good, good,” said Uncle Francis. “I’d be surprised if she’s not expecting within a month or two. Everything is going along swimmingly. And as we’ve already seen, the boy will follow Mary’s lead.”

  “The seed has been planted with the king, as well. He just announced the ‘epic royal joust’ a few moments ago in the throne room.” Uncle Charles sighed heavily. “The man is insufferable, but nothing if not predictable. He feels he needs to reassert his manhood after his show of infirmity at last night’s dinner.”

  “And what was that about, I wonder?”

  “I do not know, but I suspect Queen Catherine had something to do with it. She’s constantly scheming to wrest away some power for herself. Thankfully we won’t have to deal with her too much longer.”

  Mary’s scalp prickled. What did they think was going to happen to Queen Catherine?

  “And what of Montgomery?” asked Uncle Charles. “He’s still on board?”

  “Montgomery will fall in line. Anyway, let’s to Mary to offer our congratulations.”

  Mary scrambled away from the door and then walked quickly, nearly running but not quite, back to her chambers. Then she threw herself into her chair by the fire and picked up her embroidery, her mind racing. She might be a queen, but she was beginning to feel like a pawn. But what could she do about it?

  When her uncles arrived, she did not mention Liv, or that she had discovered anything out of the ordinary. She just smiled and nodded and continued being perfect.

  As she always did.

  TWENTY

  Ari

  Ari paced the empty laboratory. Mary was as bad as the rest of them, she decided. The Queen of Scots had proven herself to be as vindictive and manipulative as everyone else in the palace. Sending Liv away—without cause! Without reason!—was just plain mean. Within two days, Ari had gone from finally feeling like she had friends, a place where she belonged, to . . . this. This nothingness.

  She had to do something. Liv was set to leave for Norway tomorrow. But what could Ari do about it? Queen Mary was one of the most powerful people at French court.

  Ari stopped pacing. She did happen to know someone else just as powerful as Mary. More powerful, some might say.

  Queen Catherine. The actual queen of France.

  Ari took a drop of her Worries Be Gone potion (she’d started keeping a vial on her at all times, what with her stress levels now constantly through the roof) and marched herself toward Queen Catherine’s chambers. Along the way, she heard the hubbub about King Henry’s upcoming jousting tournament. The entire palace was talking about it.

  “All the best knights are participating,” a lady said.

  “I heard the king himself will ride,” said another.

  “Fifty livres on the king’s victory,” laughed another. “I’m sure to win that.”

  Ari agreed. The king was bound to win, if only because he was the king. That was the way of royals: they always got what they wanted.

  But not this time. Ari would get her way.

  When she reached the queen’s chambers, the guard announced her arrival.

  Ari walked in, keeping her spine straight, her voice steady. “Your Majesty, I—”

  “Oh, good, it’s you. I’d like you to make a new concoction for me. I heard one of your potions turned a girl green. I’d like to put in an order.”

  Ari swallowed. “Actually, I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”

  Queen Catherine narrowed her eyes. “I do not make a habit of doing favors for servants.”

  Ugh. Royalty. They were all the same. Ari clenched her jaw. She had to be strong. “A trade, then,” she said. “I know something you don’t know. But before I tell you, I need something in return. Queen Mary has recently betrothed one of her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Livingston—I’m sure you know her—to a Norwegian lord. She doesn’t wish to go, and I thought perhaps that you might intervene.”

  The queen let out a little snort of laughter. Not the nice kind of laughter. “You mean to bargain with me?”

  “Um,” Ari said.

  “You work for me, serf.”

  Ouch. Serf hurt. But it did remind Ari of her place. She was not a real lady. But she didn’t care. She had to do something for Liv.

  “I mean, please, Your Majesty,” she said. “I’m not asking for myself.”

  Queen Catherine’s voice went low and dangerous. “You will tell me what you know. This is not optional. I am your queen.”

  Ari gulped. Then she gulped again, for good measure. “After all I’ve done for you—” she started, but the queen lifted a hand to silence her.

  “How about this bargain?” The queen clapped as if this was a fun game to her. “You tell me the in
formation that you think I would like to know, and I let you keep your fingernails attached to your fingers.”

  This was not going how Ari had hoped.

  “Ooh!” exclaimed the queen. “Would you like to try my very uncomfortable rack I just had installed in the dungeon? I could call the guards right now. Or a hot poker. I haven’t used one of those in ages. Or—”

  “Queen Mary is a mouse!” Ari blurted.

  Catherine froze. “What did you say?”

  “I said . . . I said Queen Mary is a . . .” Why did the word mouse suddenly not sound right? Mouse. Mouse. House. Cows. Language was a strange thing. “Queen Mary is a mouse. Some of the time. That is to say, she’s an E∂ian.”

  There was a long moment of silence. “A mouse, you say.” The queen poured herself a goblet of wine. “This would’ve been good information to have before . . . I don’t know . . . yesterday? When did you discover this?”

  Ari lowered her head. “Um, yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that. I can’t remember. It’s a blur.”

  The queen took a long drink. She glanced at the corner, where the dessert tray with the biscuit had been. And at the tiny hole the biscuit-stealing mouse had disappeared into. She turned back to Ari, a terrifying gleam in her eye.

  “I sent you to watch over Queen Mary and ensure she had no secrets that would endanger the kingdom,” she said slowly. “Now you tell me, after she has married my son, that she has the most perilous secret of all, which would destroy her and gravely injure the reputation and security of my son and the French crown.”

  “But I did give you that potion to prevent the king from witnessing the consummation last night,” Ari pointed out.

  “By blinding him and creating a scene at my son’s wedding.” Queen Catherine shook her head. “Aristotle de Nostradame, your services are no longer required at my court. Pack your things and leave the palace at once.”

  Ari’s heart turned black and then burned to ash, and then she wasn’t breathing. She had always known her position as Mary’s lady-in-waiting was temporary, but she’d hoped it was a rung on a ladder to becoming an official adviser. She couldn’t be fired, on top of losing Liv . . .