The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 45

Mary

Mary returned to the capital with a strange feeling of drowsiness. Her body did not feel as it used to; it felt as though she was floating in thin air, suspended in time as she waited for the carriage to finally enter the gates of Westhall. 

It was quite surreal; she had left Westhall a newly freed prisoner, and now she returned a Queen. The carriage was surrounded by an ocean of expectant faces. They cheered and smiled and laughed, and the children waved white banners in the wind behind them as they ran about.

Philip put his hand over hers on the seat between them. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Mary looked at their hands and smiled. “Nothing.”

“You look very deep in thought,” he told her, leaning towards her.

She sighed and nodded. “Maybe it’s because I have no idea what to think.”

He reached out and cupped her face, tilting it upwards so that their eyes met. “Are you happy?” he asked. 

She let her smile grow and nodded.

His eyes lit up with relief. “Good.”

Her stomach tightened with agitation when she stepped out of the carriage. She knew that she had a responsibility, as the Queen, to bring the country back on course, but she had no idea how to do it. She had no idea how to rule.

So that’s why she went straight to her sister’s apartments.

To her surprise, Amalia was sitting on the couch in Evelyn’s solar when Mary entered. Light spilled from the window behind her. Her hair was undone and her dress seemed worn. Evelyn stood in the middle of the room.

Mary was relieved to see that life had somewhat returned to Evelyn’s eyes. When she smiled, it was an easy one. It was cold, yes, but Evelyn had always been cold.

“Welcome home,” she said, before tilting her head, assessing Mary from her feet to her head. “You really should change after such a long travel. You look a mess.”

Amalia stood from the couch. “I’ll leave you to yourselves,” she said, smiling towards Evelyn almost shyly before taking her leave.

Evelyn sighed and gestured for the table. “Let’s sit.”

She fetched a pitcher of wine and two glassed before sitting down across from Mary. She filled the glasses before leaning back into her chair.

“How is your dear husband?” she asked.

“He was injured in the Battle of the Branches,” Mary said. “He took a sword to his right thigh. He has had a cane fashioned, but the gods are gracious and his leg survived.”

Evelyn nodded. “Amputations are horrible. Especially since they seem to amputate the man’s pride along with his limbs.”

Mary laughed. “That’s true.” 

But her laughter died quickly, and she tried to hide her anxiety by taking a sip of wine. Evelyn did not miss that.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Mary shook her head dismissively. “It’s nothing. I am just a little nervous, that’s all. I am to be Queen, after all.” She sighed and shifted in her seat. “How did court go the other day? Did they seem… pleased?”

“They want to know what will be done to find Alfred’s murderer, and if he’ll be punished.”

“That was to be expected,” she said with a curt nod.