The Red Throne | TUQ Book Two

22 | malice

Edmund did not visit me for the next seven days. Even when we crossed-paths, he would only greet me coldly before walking off.

He was true to his words though, and nobody knew about the misfortunes of Dame Lacey Rivers. Her death was immediately covered up, and everyone gradually forgot that she ever existed.

      "You made the right decision, Your Majesty," Lillianna reassured me. "If she were left alive, she would use all that she has to steal your position."

        "My husband treats me like a criminal, Lillianna," I retorted. "He thinks that I am a monster !"

         "But the throne he sits upon is built by your family's power and wealth. As long as the House of Winterbourne remains strong and influential, he can never set you aside. You mustn't be afraid, Your Majesty. Although..." she paused. "I would advise you to be careful of Rosamund, Your Majesty."

           "Rosamund ?" I murmured. "Why is that ?"

           "I saw her talking to the Marquis of Hasteburn. I am afraid that she might be selling information to him, especially about the events of that night."

           "Tell her that she is now in charge of my wardrobe. I will deal with her later," I told Lillianna. That position was one of great importance, and with great importance comes great responsibility.

Lillianna nodded curtly, not at all fazed by this sudden change. "I understand. Your Majesty knows best," she said, eyes twinkling.

         That afternoon while I took my lunch, Argenta stormed into my bedchamber, her face as pale as a sheet, as if she had just seen a ghost.

             "Your Majesty, you must come and take a look at the Princess Elisabeth!" she urged, tears steadily flowing down her cheeks. "She's sick, Your Majesty! The physician said that she might have the sweating sickness!"

I hastily stood up, my mind devoid of all thought except for that of my daughter. Extreme fear gripped my heart, and I felt as if I were in a trance.

Elisabeth was my only child, my only hope. If I were to lose her, then all hope is lost. With the current state of my relationship with Edmund, there is no way that we could hold on.

When I recovered from my shock, I realise that I was already in front of the royal nursery. Sir Pattesley was by my daughter's side, carefully mixing up herbs inside a wooden bowl.

            Elisabeth lay still inside the cradle, her face pale and slick with sweat. Her lips were completely white, the same shade as her skin. I leaned over to grasp her hand, which felt hot to the touch.

                 "It is best if you don't stay here, Your Majesty," Sir Pattesley reprimanded, milky blue eyes filled with concern. "The disease is contagious. You wouldn't want to contract it."

                  "I want to stay," I say stubbornly. "I need to be here, with her.

She was so still, so quiet. Elisabeth had always been a crybaby, but now she was so silent. My poor girl was barely a year old. I could not bear to lose her now. Not yet, not ever.

I clutch her hand tightly, not wanting to let go. I wonder if this is God's punishment towards me. I had killed so many, robbed the children away from their mothers, and now my poor girl is paying the price.

The souls of Leanne McCarthy, Queen Helene and Lacey Rivers must be cursing me, wanting me to suffer a life worse than death.

        Elisabeth's breaths were so weak, like a fish out of water. I knew how deadly the sweating disease could be. Grown adults fall down like flies each year, and it could easily take away an infant child if it wanted to.