The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 42

Mary

Mary’s eyes were closed when they came for her. 

Her feet carried her, as if by an external force, round and round in endless circles. They were bare and made almost no sound against the wooden boards. Her thoughts, as always, were a mess of different things; of trying to keep focus; of losing it in favor of her husband and daughter; of thoughts of her mother and her mother’s lover and her father and his lover.

Certainly, no one can be blamed for the war, she thought. With this sort of confusion, there were bound to be mistakes. 

She could not help but wonder if everything could be fixed with honesty. If her mother had married the man she truly loved - or if she had been honest about which children were Samuel’s, and which were Raphael’s. If honesty was what you assumed people to be, not a rare exception, then would she not have been trusted? Would not the right person have been put on the throne to begin with? Would not war have been prevented? 

She knew this to be an idealistic dream. Naivety is just another word for stupidity. We apply it to the fools whose delusions we wish were the truth, Mary had once heard Sir Jonathan Baker tell some other member of council.

And there went her thoughts again - flying, scattering to the whirlwind within her. 

The door opened, then, cutting her circle short. For a moment, she thought that Jonathan had come to politely tell her of his murder of her sister. He would probably release her. He was loyal to her. That much she knew. 

So when the guard bowed down low, she was not surprised. “Your Grace,” he said. 

“So he has finally come to his senses?” she asked, tilting up her jaw in pride that reflected her nonchalant tone of voice. 

“In a sense of the word,” he said, rising from his bow. “Sir Alfred was killed.”

Mary’s eyes widened, her hand went to her chest, where she felt her heart fluttering, and she stepped back from him in shock. “I suppose I should not be surprised,” she breathed. 

The guard dared a smile. 

She blinked, realizing… realizing that his changed everything. But how much does it change? Did she dare ask? 

She cleared her throat, and felt sick to her stomach as she forced the words past her lips. “And my sister?”

The guard drew in a deep breath in consideration as he folded his hands behind his back. “That is a curious matter,” he began, slowly, and she felt the need to slap him to make him speak faster. “An… explosion of some sort brought the execution to an abrupt end. Your sister is alive and, supposedly, well, but kept incarcerated for the time being.”

For a moment, Mary’s mind was filled simply with the fact that Evelyn was alive. Just that was enough to make her chest come to fluttering life. When finally she had processed every part of his sentence, she said, “Incarcerated? By whose command?”

“Well, yours, technically,” the guard said. “We are working on Alfred’s old commands, since they were all lain out as yours. It’s hard to know what was his wishes, and what was yours. We made sure to do nothing that could not be undone if that should be your wish.”

Mary nodded. “Who was in command?”

The guard wetted his lips. “I was, Your Grace. My name is William Hawks. I am Commander of the Royal Guard.”

“I’ve heard your name,” Mary said, before adding, self-consciously, “Well, of course I have. I’m afraid I’ve just never… Well, my interests are mainly outside this castle.”