Queen

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Queen Page 5

by Daya Daniels


  I follow. “Are you okay, Beatrix?”

  She laughs softly. “Yes, I am, I just don’t feel very well.”

  “Oh.”

  She keeps her back to me as she works. “I will be leaving for home in a few days.”

  “Oh.” My brows crash together. “Regardless of how you feel about them, I am certain your family will appreciate the visit. When will you be back?” I smile.

  Beatrix stills. “Uh, I am not certain.” She spins around to face me. “But, I do know that the Queen Mother has arranged for someone wonderful to take my place as your lady-in-waiting.” I am offered up a weak smile.

  “You are not returning?”

  Beatrix rushes off to the armoire across the room and proceeds to pull items from it with incredible speed.

  I observe her profile.

  She has put on weight. Her cheeks glow. Her hair is shinier than I remember. She looks different…

  Why is she leaving so suddenly?

  Beatrix hates her family!

  “No, I don’t think I am.” She giggles. “My family would like for me to remain in the countryside.”

  “I see.” I place my hands on my hips, index finger tapping the fine satin of my dress.

  Beatrix waltzes around this chamber, organizing my things, avoiding my eyes.

  I follow while attempting to sort out all the questions which beg to be asked.

  Beatrix halts her stride, places her hand on her lower back and peers up at the wooden beams which cross the ceiling high above us.

  I glare at her.

  She tries her best to conceal her retch. “I am sorry, you must excuse me.” She dashes across the room, quickly unlatches a window and expels all the contents of her stomach in one heaving breath, then falls to the floor and almost drowns in a puddle of her own tears.

  I observe the scene—shocked and confused.

  And then slowly, I assist Beatrix when she is halfway done weeping and urge her to sit in a chair. “I will get you some water.” I rush across the room and pour water in a goblet before I offer the liquid to Beatrix.

  She gulps it down quickly then wipes the sweat away from her forehead. “I am with child, Briar.” She weeps. “I am with child and there is nothing I can do about it.” Her inhales and exhales are ragged.

  I edge closer to where she sits and take her hand.

  “I am unmarried and with child.” Tears pour from her eyes. “They are sending me away…” She cries more and babbles out nonsensical speech.

  “Who is sending you away?”

  I wait for her frantic breathing and tears to calm.

  Inching closer to her face, I peer deep into her eyes. “Who is sending you away, Beatrix?”

  I swear she almost answers me but then her lips snap tightly shut, halting the truth from flying out from them.

  Taking her by the shoulders, I shake her a little. “Beatrix, who is sending you away? You are my lady-in-waiting. Your place is here at Berkhamsted Castle. No one has asked me about this. I promise you that I will find out what is going on?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Princess Briar.” The fierceness which laces her tone when she speaks the words causes me to freeze. More of her tears fall. “The decision has been made. Besides, I should not be here. I-do-not-belong-here. Especially now.”

  “Who made this decision?”

  She looks away from me. “The Queen Mother. She is sending me away…”

  “Because you are with child?” My top lip turns up into a snarl.

  “Yes…” She shakes her head fiercely. “And no…” She hiccups. “The Queen Mother said that if I stay I threaten to ruin this family.” Her lashes flutter before more tears slip past them. “But, I promised her I would not. Yet, still she is sending me away…” She weeps. “How can you trust a woman who does not keep her word? She did not keep her word to me. I am afraid of what will happen to me now. I am so, so fucking terrified, Princess Briar.”

  “I don’t understand, Beatrix. Why would you ruin this family?”

  She sobs away.

  Until I shake her just a bit. “Beatrix!” I drop down to my knees in front of her.

  And like a heavy weight, her head crashes into my shoulder and remains there.

  I allow her to weep in peace.

  “I cannot stay here any longer, Princess Briar.”

  “I understand.” Patting her on the back, I gaze out at the distance beyond the window.

  “I must take the punishment for being the horrid and wretched woman I am.”

  I remain silent.

  “You have become such a good friend to me.” A soft smile touches her lips.

  “And so have you, Beatrix, please, I don’t want you to leave.” I laugh a little. “I would like for you to stay.”

  “You sister doesn’t really like me.” Beatrix chuckles.

  I offer her no response.

  She sucks in a loud breath. “This could end my life, Princess Briar, and my child’s, but I feel as if I owe it to you.” A single tear careens down her cheek before she wipes it away. “I must be a good friend…”

  “What is it?” I tilt my head, observing Beatrix with much curiosity.

  Her forehead wrinkles and the most agonizing expression sketches itself into her features. “So help me God…”

  Is this the prelude to a prayer?

  My stomach sinks down to my ruby-decorated shoes as I wait.

  She takes my hand in hers, and with her eyes shut, she presses a kiss to the back of it. With the action, I realize that in just a short moment, Beatrix is about to become one of the most treasured friends I’ve ever had.

  Alexander

  “SURELY, I TAUGHT YOU better than this!” Davide makes taunting circles around me.

  I pant as he does.

  His sword is held tightly in his grip and low by his side as if he is not worried about the threat I pose.

  Laughing, I inch closer, cautious. “My father taught me this, truly.” I nod a few times. “You, Gaius, and Caspar simply polished my skills thereafter.”

  Davide strides forward slowly, keeping an eye on me, ensuring that I do not make any sudden moves. “Your father was a great swordsman.” His chin lifts. “I’d say he was one of the best. Men feared him.”

  “As you should fear me.” I hold the heavy blade in my hands, preparing to strike.

  Davide jumps to the left and thwarts the attack with the quick work of his sword.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  Our swords collide.

  My chest heaves as I suck in the cold English air and then I charge!

  CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

  Sparks rise.

  Davide spins and swipes lowly.

  I JUMP!

  “Your Majesty, you’d better stop mucking about!” He laughs.

  Rushing forward with my sword held high, I let out a battle cry.

  CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

  With gritted teeth, I swing with all my might, ignoring the severe vibration which rattles through my arm as the metal connects.

  Davide retreats with each strike I land, unable to withstand the force.

  With a shove using his shoulder, he pushes me away.

  I go flying backward, almost losing all composure but then I regain it quickly. Laughing, I regard the knight in all his light armor. And of course, I feel nothing but pride surge through me at the House of Montforthe-Byron coat of arms which decorates his shirt of mail.

  Davide roars and the blade of his sword threatens to descend to my shoulder and sever it right from me.

  I SWING!

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  What once seemed to be a dance of precision suddenly has me wild with wrath.

  My arm swoops.

  It crashes down overhead.

  Davide tries his very best to withstand the merciless force with which my blade falls
upon his sword.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  We move swiftly.

  The battle is on.

  It is one of might between men.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  CLANK.

  I

  do

  not

  stop.

  A cool wind drifts over us and fills my lungs with the crisp English air.

  Davide shows strength and fortitude.

  He no longer swings, only blocks my attacks.

  My heart rages in my chest when my arm swings once more.

  CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

  But all of Davide’s efforts suddenly become useless.

  An impossibility occurs…

  His arm tires. Worry fills his eyes. His expression twists into one of fear. His entire body hits the stone wall ahead. And soon he cowers, almost falls right to his knees in supplication. I swing one-final-time.

  “YOUR MAJESTY!” Davide’s voice halts my movement.

  I still, then lowering my sword, and panting, I let out a small laugh and then offer him my hand.

  Offering a firm grip, Davide takes it and I help him to rise.

  “Your Majesty, that is some swing you have.” With frantic breaths, he taps my shoulder. “A swing like that would crack a soldier’s shield right in bloody half.” His expression is twisted as he regards me.

  My eyes lift to the window high above us and my eyes fix on Briar who stands to it. My eyes narrow at the brown slop which runs down the wall. What is that? Whatever it is, it appears to be disgusting…I meet her eyes, joyously reliving the wonderful time we had during our last breakfast together.

  How long has she been watching this?

  She only stares, appearing deep in thought while she spies.

  I force myself not to look at her any longer and spin around. “We should practice more, Davide.” I stride away from him. “I need more practice.” I hold my sword high, ready.

  Davide is still out of breath. “Very well, Your Majesty. Very well…more practice.”

  Briar

  WRINGING MY HANDS AND in somewhat of a daze, I linger near the window.

  “It doesn’t matter, Princess Briar, she is sending me away anyhow.” Beatrix sniffles.

  “After the day he died, Beatrix, nothing has ever been the same here at Berkhamsted Castle.” I twist around to face her, meeting her big and red-rimmed eyes.

  “She hated him. She absolutely hated him, Princess Briar. She always wanted Alexander to be King. She told me so herself.” She sucks in air before she begins to weep once more. “She wanted control of everything through Alexander. And Jean-Baptiste agreed that the way to control the throne was through making Alexander King.”

  I lift a shaky hand to my cheek. “But that doesn’t make any sense, Beatrix.” I let out a little laugh. “No one controls Alexander.” It’s the most ridiculous notion I think I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

  Beatrix lowers her head. “I don’t think they anticipated that, Princess Briar.”

  How could they not have?

  I pace the chamber.

  “I don’t think they ever thought that Alexander would become the mark of strength that he has.”

  A tear slips down my cheek salty and warm.

  I loved him.

  I loved Hayden.

  And they took him away from me.

  “I am sorry I’ve upset you, Princess Briar, but you must know.”

  Beyond the window, the sky outside becomes darker and just over Raven Forest the birds become wild. The thunder in the distance rolls and a flash of lightning crackles through the heavy clouds. After the roar and sizzle, the sky opens up and the rain falls.

  So do my tears. “Beatrix, what happened to King Hayden?” My bottom lip wobbles.

  I wait. I wait. I wait.

  Beatrix allows a strangled breath to leave her.

  I sob more because I fear I know the answer, but I am not gifted with the truth for a while.

  Not until Beatrix finds the courage to speak more.

  “They killed him, Princess Briar…” She weeps softly. “They killed King Hayden.”

  Losing my balance at her words, my hand grips on to the stone windowsill and I manage to steady myself before I fall to the floor.

  I cannot breathe. I cannot think. I cannot handle this brutal truth.

  How could they!

  “Would you be willing to tell King Alexander what you know?” I face the window.

  “Yes, of course, Princess Briar, but you must know my life is in danger because I possess this information.”

  When I twist around, I find Beatrix standing just behind me.

  “I am afraid, Princess Briar. I have been so afraid since that very night.”

  I cup her cheeks with my hands. “We will protect you, I promise.”

  Beatrix nods over and over.

  We hug.

  When she pulls away she regards me with a strange expression. “I shall need to get back to the Queen Mother’s chamber because soon she will be looking for me.”

  “Yes, I understand.” I walk her to the doors. “I will come to get you later.”

  Beatrix smiles before she slips out of my presence.

  I shut the doors behind her.

  CLICK.

  Making my way toward the windows, unexpectedly I double back, and my open palm is slapped to the middle of my chest in surprise when Vesper slips from behind the thick curtains, pointing a finger in my direction.

  What in the bloody hell?

  “I knew it, Briar.” Disgust is scribbled across her features. “I knew it.” She pulls me into her hold.

  I weep feeling utterly hopeless, reliving the truth I had been finally given.

  They hurt him.

  He suffered.

  They took him away from me.

  My love. My love. My love.

  Vesper squeezes me tight and I bawl into her shoulder.

  She holds me for what feels like forever and I’m sent back to a time long ago…I fall into the love that we share as sisters and my mind is easily afresh as to how much I’ve missed having Vesper around. She used to hold me just like this when we were little, often after I’d skinned my knee, or had just been stung by a bee.

  Vesper would hold me until all the agony went away, just like she is now, except this pain…

  It runs deep.

  It is carved into my bones and disturbs its very marrow.

  Each day I have managed to live since Hayden has been gone has been excruciating without any answers. And now I have them…What on earth will I do with them? I plan to shake the world…

  “This is all the information you need, Briar.” Vesper palms my face with her hands, steps away, and forces me to look at her.

  “I know.” I wipe my wet cheeks and avert my eyes from her brown ones. “But, I think somewhere deep down I was hoping to get a different answer. As much as I wanted to know, Vesper, I don’t think I could ever have been prepared for this devastating truth.” I cry all over again.

  Vesper pulls me into her once more, allowing me to weep.

  And in the same instance, I back away and take deep breaths, hoping that they will stop me from passing out. “How could they do this?” My fists ball at my sides. “How could she hurt him?” Strolling toward the windows, I gaze out of the wet glass and adore all that is England ahead. “How could that woman be so cruel?”

  Vesper suddenly appears behind me. “Briar, you heard Beatrix yourself…She hated him…”

  I almost cry all over again because I could never imagine how anyone could have disliked a man such as Hayden. He was kind. He was understanding. He was a stellar representation of strength and humility. And most importantly of all, he was the bloody King!

  “I suppose I did hear her, Vesper.”

  “There’s still something about Beatrix I just can’t seem to
settle with, Briar…”

  “After everything she just told me, Vesper, you still question her authenticity?” I glare at my ridiculous sister.

  “Yes, I do.” She blinks.

  I face ahead again, and my eyes fix on the black cloud which settles above Raven Forest.

  The birds there are as angry as the sky is at the moment.

  Vesper fiddles with a lock of my hair. “Beatrix did not say who the father is…”

  “No, she did not.” My thoughts get swallowed up in that violent cloud. “I suppose it is not important.”

  Vesper grunts.

  Even with the thunder and the flashes of white in the sky, I can still hear them.

  The birds…

  Their caws and cries and chirps.

  It becomes unbearable to my ears.

  Vesper stands next to me.

  We gaze out the window at all the green rolling hills and valleys.

  “It is a lovely day despite the rain and the stormy weather and this revolting news, isn’t it?” Touching my shoulder lightly, Vesper smiles.

  “I suppose it is.”

  I gesture with my chin ahead. “It would be the most amazing view if it were not for all the birds…”

  Vesper’s expression twists in confusion.

  I wait patiently for her agreement.

  She peers out the window and then her browns are back on me and set beneath thin brows which dip down in a perfect V toward her nose. “Briar, what birds?”

  Alexander

  “I WANT TO SEE the body.” I meet Hamilton’s worried eyes with my serious ones.

  He rushes forward. “No, Your Majesty, we strongly advise against it.”

  I lift a hand, silencing him and glance around the council chamber which seems far too full this evening.

  Night has fallen.

  The fireplace crackles.

  And outside the window beyond the grounds which surround this castle, Raven Forest is wild with noise. The angry birds are relentless with their cries.

  My head aches.

  And my mind whirls with anxious thoughts.

  The bags under my eyes are precious gifts from the lack of sleep I’ve had.

  Caspar, Davide, and Gaius stand to my left. Hamilton and Jean-Baptiste remain to my right. Shaw—the Moor—and the only man of a dark hue who I’ve ever seen and who is the medical examiner, is straight ahead of me. And leaning on the wall in a corner is my dear brother, Zaccai.

 

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