The Reluctant Queen

Chapter 8

Beaten and broken, Marié lay on the chilled stones of the dungeon, underneath the magistrate’s halls. Caked up blood sat on her forehead and her body was so tense that she rather the contents of the leaking roof trickle down the musty walls and pool over her instead of moving away. Heavy lidded and covered in darkness, Marié knew that she could not fall asleep again. Her pulse violently thumped against her temple, a reminder of being hit over the head. Despite not being able to see it in the dark, the smell of bile was in the air and she knew that she must have woken up at some point and threw up.

“Is this what you meant by helping them?” Marié quietly asked the empty room. No one ever answered. Yet Marié knew that none of the things she had done in the last seven years was what her mother planned. It was difficult knowing what the dead wanted or what they would have done in the same situation.

Metal clashed against metal as the constable baton passed over each bar of the barrier keeping Marié inside. The prison was far too quiet and lonely unlike what Marié expected. Everyone knew that inconsequential people vanished like the wind to never be heard from again. At that moment, Marié was no Princess. After the lashings that sent her into unconsciousness, the guards had no idea that they assaulted their princess either. There was irony in there somewhere but Marié was too tired and hurt to find it.

Groaning, she placed her body weight into her arms and pushed herself up. She cringed at the sudden movement, her ribs were as though someone had taken a hammer to them and when she tried to straighten up, her back was the same which left her in some unnatural cocoon.

A small light in the dark abyss flickered by the entrance of her cell. Marié looked away quickly, stung by the unexpected brightness. Her eyes briefly closed before trying again. This time she languishly placed a hand over eyes and looked. The light was like hope after an endless night but she knew that this was only the beginning. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, Marié was only glad that she was the one taken prisoner and not Sofia. The entrance to the cell was a distance away and no figure stood behind that light. Logically, she knew that someone had to be there but she was in no position to come to her feet and get closer.

“Look what they have done to you— your people!” His tone had a level of mockery and disdain.

In the seven years that they had been each other’s lives, Marie knew three things. The first was that she would never know his name, where the rebels lived and how many they were. Despite the contempt he held for her family and a majority of society, he would never harm her. He raised weapons to her neck, yelled to her face but the warmth in his eyes never wavered when he looked at her. Lastly, they worked together because they had to. He was no friend to her. No comfort came with his presence.

Mocked, beaten and imprisoned, Marié learnt a new and terrifying truth— the rebels no longer kept themselves hidden or had they always been integrated into society and she was just finding out? Charles’ confidence lay in that the rebels were outside of his gates of protection but if they were capable of being constables or even palace guards, how safe was the King?

Like water icing over, Marié’s eyes narrowed. A resigned feeling washed over her like a foggy cloud taking away her vision. There stood the man who killed her mother and father. If her mother hadn’t promised her into servitude, Marié would have been dust and bones. His presence came with inner conflict. How does one converse with the murderer of their parents? And yet know that Charles was equally guilty of killing his family. Over the years, their relationship was a little tango between understanding and self-loathing.“I have a memory of you doing the same.”

He laughed, looking off to the dark halls of the dungeon. A chill swept through the air despite a lack of opening to the outside. “Do you know that most prisoners do not live to the morning? That’s if they survive the torture chamber. You’ll hang by morning and by the afternoon another will be where you sit.”

Marié stiffened her jaw. “Anything else?

Silence fell between them and then followed by a jingle of keys. Old metal cried out as it was pushed inward. Had she strength in her body, Marié would have ran. Just the thought of moving her limbs made her cry out.

Khaki uniform with blue wrists and collar, stood over her. Over his shoulders was a bright orange cloak and a blue hat on his head. Just like a palace guard. Marié gasped, moving too quickly for her injuries. The cold floor took her in — face first. He stood there silently. His emotions had never been clear over the years. He was never up or down. Through all their interactions he remained flat as though he didn’t want her to forget how they met.

He pulled out the leather jacket that he usually wore and threw it at her. At that moment, there was no pride. If she didn’t warm up soon, the Princess was guaranteed to catch a cold or even pneumonia. Without commenting on his appearance, Marié hugged the leather jacket around herself and looked at him as though she had not just been given the shock of her life. He said nothing either, stretching a hand with a piece of bread. She took it and tore into it quickly despite the aching jaw.

He turned his back to her, facing where he came from.“You have protected your identity and I won’t deny that your duplicity has worked in my favour. It is time to tell them who you are.”

She said nothing and continued to eat as gracefully as a swan floating along the lake. In truth, Marié was like a duck, calm on the surface but frantically trying to remain afloat. Had Léa and Sofia managed to escape undetected? Would the church be blamed for her actions? How many rebels were in the palace? Was there a way to save her family?

His eyes found hers. Seeing her mind working, he knew she was not thinking for herself. As beautiful, innocent looking and repressed as she was, she was still the same wild girl who stood up to him many years ago. He never underestimated her. Even when he insulted her and thought this time he had lost her, when King Charles was plotting, she returned. When they first met, he thought her to be some spoiled entitled princess but she proved him wrong, and people rarely did that.

“You have no intention of saving yourself, do you?” he asked. “You want them to kill so your brother can finally understand the consequences of his actions.”

Marié continued chewing, her blue eyes focused on the piece of bread like the greatest treasure. It was. Getting beaten had a way of making someone work up an appetite.

He scoffed. “What a foolish thing to do! Who do you think he would blame? Himself? Never. Your brother is more corrupt than his father before him.”

She looked up with a defiant spirit about her. “Unlike you and the King, I am not blinded by power or hatred. I know exactly who he is and I know who you are. Neither of you wish to stop.”

“Is this because I rejected your proposal to leave the city? Why should we run away? Moving to another town will be merely changing the location. How long until he finds us? And what are we to do there? Gladly starve out of sight, so you may be content?”

“My brother has the resources and men to continue this fight for decades. Can you say the same? Perhaps you have gained cooperation from the middle class, but how long until their pockets run dry? Do your children wish to live their lives as wanderers?”

“My children?”

Marié looked away. “I am a boring princess, who most ignore, with nothing but time on my hands.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment and then laughed. “You would not bring harm to my children, Princess. This I know of you. Your brother needs to be removed and I am not leaving this city until he loses his power over the people. I have a preposition for you.”

“He may be prone to being cruel but he is my brother. I will not do your dirty work for you.”

“I am not that barbaric,” he said, letting out a toothy grin. Marié was neither amused or charmed, so he continued. “First, what is that Dutch Prince doing here? He has been in places where your kind do not dare poke around.”

Marié sighed. “I neither know nor speak for him.”

“You better not have your sights on him. You belong to me.”

“Am I planning to have my brother execute me or running away with Prince Wilhelm? Your thoughts on my actions leave me quite dizzy.”

“Amusing,” he said dryly. “Your mother gave you to me. I decide where you go and from this day forth, you will marry a man of my choosing. I do not care how you give this news to your King but you will do so. I have run out of patience with him or your influence over him. Would it be a fair assessment to say you have none? And that is not a blot against your character but his.”

Marié blinked. Was she dreaming? It took years to reconcile the person who she had become from who she was the summer that she turned fifteen. All dreams were forgotten. Guilt from betraying her family, her country and those women who looked to her as a companion, spread like a disease and lived with her each moment that she remained breathing. Any moment that Marié caught herself relaxed and not doing something to outmanoeuvre the greed of the officials, she felt like a criminal. But not this. Selling herself like a broodmare was not a sacrifice that she was willing to make. Ever.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Is that not how your kind form an alliance? That is what I want and for that, I will not allow you to die.” He stared into her eyes as though to say: marriage or the end of her family. Many times Marié wondered why her mother had made such an offer. Marié could have walked away at any time and told Charles everything. However, she knew that would result in the death of millions and she couldn’t allow it. “Your brother will be here in the morning. I would

start thinking of my excuses if I were you.”

I am not yours. My mother gave away what did not belong to her, Marié almost yelled out. Her brothers were in danger and buying them time mattered more than provoking him.

He took a few steps towards the gate and then stopped himself. “By the way, your brother issued a decree to raid the church. All the women and children were taken. Yet I am the barbarian.”

“Does that include your wife and children?”

He looked with no motivation to do anything just like the officials. Marié guessed that Léa and Morgaux were safe then. He wanted his war and his actions were set out to get it. And now, he wanted her. “Consider my preposition, your king and his merrymen cannot be reasoned with. And if your Prince interferes with my business, I will deal with him.”

“I wouldn’t touch him if I were you. King Maximilian likes war and he is far more terrifying than my brother. You do not want him to come upon us.”

The door closed with a deafening thud. Once she was alone, Marié curled up into a ball. All that she wanted to do when she set out with Sofia that morning was to bring the Duke’s abuses into the light. Now they had lost even the little that they had. As the cold seeped into her veins, Marié’s mind drifted into empty darkness.

It was some time later when the rumble of feet, like soldiers marching, filled the hallways.

“Open it,” Prince Lucien commanded. Marié lifted her head. Palace guards and constables each stood on either side of her brother. The golden blue eyed prince was well loved and respected, and rarely feared. Not at that moment. “I said, open it!”

The constable frantically reached for the keys and placed them in the slot. “The magistrate has been sanctioned by the King to execute this prisoner.”

“I do not care what order has been given. The King will know of my thoughts soon enough.” The moment the door was opened, every man stood aside and let him through. He charged towards Marié with a fierce gaze.

Marié weakly smiled. “I am alright.”

Lucien took off his coat and wrapped it around her. Her skin was cold to the touch. He jerked his hand back as soon she winced at his touch. “Let’s go home. I will decide how to feel about this later.”

Lifting her off the floor, Lucien cradled her against his chest. He remained silent as he carried her out. The only words that came were from his guard commanding doors to be opened and clearing people from their path.

“Tell the King that I would like an audience with him as soon as he is available,” Lucien said to one of the guards as soon as they were in the carriage. He stretched his sister over the sette, keeping her head on his lap. “Are you comfortable? Shall I ask for their coats?”

Marie smiled. “It’s cold out there.” Lucien nodded. Things did not end well for those who imposed their will on Marié, and so he let things be. Despite rarely meeting her eyes, Marié could imagine the thoughts in his head. “Will you not ask?” asked Marié.

“You have not told me the truth in a long time. I am not sure I could bear looking into your eyes and knowing that there is something that you are keeping from me.” Prince Lucien sighed. “In any case, I am too angry and frustrated to have an honest conversation with you. See!” He said, spreading his hands in front of her. “I am shaking like a leaf. Do you have any idea how terrified I was? At first I thought it was a joke and then when you weren’t accounted for at the church, I knew I had to come!”

Prince Lucien exhaled, catching himself. “We will talk about it when you are better.”

“Believe it or not, I was scared too.”

Lucien snorted but warmth sat in his eyes. “I thought you feared nothing.”

“If I were gone, where would you find a worthy adversary to play chess against?”

“You make a good point,” he said with an easy smile that faded away just as quickly. “He nearly killed you today and this, I cannot let lie.”

“You cannot challenge him. I will speak to him.”

Prince Lucien merely smiled. “The two of you act like I am not a part of this family. The choices you both make have an impact on my life and today, he will hear my thoughts.”