The King's Artist

Ch 74: Truth from Drunken Lips

Kayden stumbled into the hallway well past midnight. He'd possibly drunk far too much wine with the other soldiers, but he was finding it difficult to care. At the moment, they were in the safety of the French court and things were finally moving forward. They had money, connections, and now it was only a matter of time before they made that last step and sailed across the waters. To England. 

Kayden had been eighteen when he fled alongside Henry and wound up in Brittany. The older age had been both a blessing and a curse for the soon-to-be-knight. A blessing because he had been mature enough to acclimate and understand his situation, but a curse because he had been old enough to remember what home was like. Because that was what England was to him. Home. He could recall neither of his parents or even the estate that he'd been raised in with great clarity, but Kayden could distinctly recount cool, fall winds and pleasant caresses of summer rain. It was random memories like that that had him desperate to return. Desperate to see if fuzzy dreams and vague flashes of the past held any merit in the present day. 

However, at the moment, he was far too drunk to care a great deal about such matters and took one last swig of his drink. His handsome face pulled into an uncomfortable frown as he lapped at the last dregs of wine.

As he tripped towards his room, Kayden found his attention distracted momentarily by a figure hidden in the shadows. The buzz of his brain threatened to dissipate completely before the tension quickly relaxed and Kayden recognized the figure as Henry's. His future king was leaning heavily against the windowsill, his own bottle in hand, and despite the distance, Kayden knew immediately that something was wrong. The tension slipped back into his muscles as he approached Henry. And at the pained look on the young Tudor's face, Kayden found himself instantly, violently sober. 

"What's wrong?" He demanded, the bottle falling from his hands and clattering loudly onto the floor. Kayden didn't care, though. His heart raced and panicked flooded his system as his mind worked to understand the darkness currently edging into Henry's eyes. They looked more black than brown at the moment, and Henry's entire face sunk and hollowed with what could only be described as utter, crippling despair. 

He barely seemed to register that Kayden was next to him as he took another long swig of his drink and laid his head against the cool, stone wall. 

"I do not know what to do, Kayden," he said into the silence of the hall. Henry's voice cracked and a cry seemed to have crawled up into his throat before he swallowed it down with another drink. 

Kayden wanted to press the matter, but his intuition urged him to direct Henry into more private corridors before continuing the conversation. So that's what the soldier did, though with some difficulty considering his own footing was precarious. 

By some miracle, they made it to Henry's designated sleeping corridors without being spotted. Kayden sealed the doors behind them and watched apprehensively as Henry strolled across the room to grab another container of alcohol. He took a long, painfully slow drag before tossing the glass across the room. Kayden didn't flinch as the cup shattered against the wall and Henry sunk to the floor, head between his knees and his hands wrapped tightly in his hair. 

"I don't know what to do," Henry repeated. 

Kayden was hesitant to approach. Not because he was particularly uncomfortable when it came to comforting Henry when he was in pain, but because he knew there was only one thing—one person—who could elicit such a reaction from the young Lord. And that said person was still a difficult subject to broach between them. Kayden hadn't even mentioned Adeliade in front of Henry since the dispute so many years ago when she had decided to maintain her Arthur persona. They had both agreed that it was better that way, and not a single word had been uttered in such a long time about Adelaide and her relationship with Henry that Kayden wasn't even sure how to bring up the matter now.  

But, as it would seem, Henry was drunk enough to jump the hurdle for him. 

"Do you want to know where we were this afternoon while you and the others were drinking the night away in celebration?" There was a tangy, bitterness to Henry's tone that alarmed Kayden. He couldn't recall a time that the other man's voice had been so—venomous. 

"We were invited to a meeting with the King of France's sister," Henry continued, his head falling back against the back of the couch in his rooms. His gaze darted momentarily towards the alcohol again, but he seemed to lack the strength to stand and get another. Which, Kayden thought, was probably for the best. "And it was while we were in her company that it was revealed to me that Adelaide had slipped away on the day of our arrival and gone off and painted away the evening with one of the court's most beloved artists."

Was this entire ordeal simple jealously? Kayden doubted it. Henry was well-aware of Adelaide's devotion towards him. She most likely would never love anyone else for the rest of her life. A fact that had a sour taste coating the inside of Kayden's mouth. Plus, Adelaide was Arthur amongst the Halls of France just as she'd been during her stay in Brittany. The notion of her having a secret love affair with another man was ludicrous. 

So then, what brought about Henry's temper? 

"Lady Anne happened to see one of the paintings that Adelaide had done," said Henry as he closed his eyes. "She ranted non-stop about how brilliant and masterful the piece was. How wonderous a talent 'Sir Arthur' possessed. And how deeply disappointing it was that he was merely a soldier and not an artist."

Kayden felt his stomach drop. 

"And she offered Adelaide a position in her Court of Artists," he whispered his guess slowly, feeling the weight of each syllable leave his mouth like a swing of a sword. 

"She did," Henry answered just as quietly. 

"And Adelaide said yes."

Henry's body shook with a sob as his hands returned his hair. "And Adelaide said no."

The truth of such a statement slapped Kayden across the cheek. Everything clicked into place as he processed the job offer made towards Adelaide, her subsequent refusal, and Henry's reaction. 

Kayden moved hesitantly across the room and knelt before Henry, unsure of what to do. The future King of England raised his head, his eyes swimming with emotion and unshed tears. The misery scrawled across his face was too much to bear, but Kayden forced himself not to turn away, not to break eye contact. 

"She's going to make me do it." Henry's words were a pained hush sent into the darkness. "She refuses to leave my side, and so she's going to make me do it. She's going to make me force her away. Make the decision mine and not hers. Because even when presented with an alternative, a beautiful alternative to serve the French and paint and do what she's longed to do since childhood, she chose to remain with me. Again. And I cannot do it, Kayden. I cannot marry another woman in front of her. I cannot do that to her. I have already caused her enough suffering. The thought that she will never be happy, that she will sit back and watch me sire children that are not hers—I simply cannot do it."

Henry's head swung low between his legs as his body shook and the tears finally fell. "But I also do not know if I have the strength to force her away myself."