The King's Artist

Ch 75: Nerium Oleander

It was September 30th today, and tomorrow would mark the beginning of their journey across the channel towards England. The army of Henry Tudor's was currently stationed in Harfleur, a port city in France about a weeks trip from their destination, a town known as Milford. 

Adelaide currently stood adjacent to Jasper watching the soldiers load cargo onto the thirty ships currently secured in the harbor. 

"Are you ready to return?" asked Adelaide, shivering slightly as a sea breeze rushed over the land. She turned her attention away from the boats and the loading horses and towards her adoptive father, who wore a severe and calculative expression. He had discarded his glasses after  grumbling several times about the water spraying across them, and the absence of the frames made his expression more intense, his eyes sterner than before. 

"It's been so long since I was home," Jasper returned with a solemn tone of voice. He sighed a little and rubbed his eyes. Adelaide knew he wasn't just referring to England when he used the word home. Milford resided in the county of Pembrokeshire, which had fallen under his Earldom. It had been stripped from him twice before he had been forced to flee England with Henry fourteen years ago. 

Adelaide wanted to ask him about his homeland in more depth, but they were interrupted by a group of soldiers who needed to confirm a few things with Jasper. She said a quick goodbye to him before stepping off to the side to further assess the groups of men moving around the ships. Since obtaining the necessary funds, their numbers had swelled from roughly 500 men to now approximately 5,000. They were a good mixture, as well, with some being Scots under the leadership of Sir Alexander Bruce, and others being French ex-soldiers provided by the Marshal of France. 

Adelaide wasn't a fan of the latter, especially of the man who they called their leader. And as if the thought had summoned him, Philippe de Chandée moved to stand beside her, silent as a shadow with a cocky smirk already in place. He swiped a hand through his dark hair, his armor clanking noisily, and Adelaide had to resist rolling her eyes. 

"How's your day fairing so far, Sir Arthur?" Chandée asked as he nodded to a few of his men as they moved past. 

"I would say it was going fairly well until a few minutes ago," Adelaide said with a subtle glare. Chandée ignored the barb and thankfully wasn't looking in her direction. "Are your men ready to sail?"

"Just as ready as yours," she retorted. Chandée snickered in doubt and Adelaide glared. She wasn't certain where he and the other French ex-soldiers pompous attitudes originated from, but it made them a distasteful crew to deal with. Regardless, Henry needed them and as long as they were getting paid, they tended to follow orders. 

Without a goodbye, Chandée slipped away into the crowd and disappeared off in the direction of one of the ships. Adelaide clicked her tongue in irritation. Following the Frenchman's departure, though, Kayden moved into his spot wearing a similar expression of disdain. 

"I really dislike that man," he muttered under his breath. Adelaide snorted in agreement. 

For a moment, the two stood in silence. 

"Have you seen Henry?" Adelaide whispered, lowering her gaze. 

Kayden cleared his throat uncomfortably before uttering back just as quietly, "no, I haven't."

Jointly, the two sighed. 

It had been an awkward past couple of months—for both of them. Adelaide was well-aware that Henry had taken her rejecting the French courts invitation very poorly. Kayden had been the one to warn her that he was unhappy with her decision, but Adelaide had believed that things would return to normal quickly after Henry had been given time to cool off. 

She couldn't have been more wrong. 

Henry had distanced himself profusely, diving into the war efforts with renewed focus, while maintaining his anger with her. Of course, the others in their group had started to notice, but no one pried further into the matter. Though, Adelaide was fairly certain that Marcus, Anthony, and Theodore were beginning to speculate that there was more to the relationship between her and Henry than they had initially perceived. It had only made everyone feel even more discomfited by the situation. 

"I just don't understand," mumbled Adelaide as she and Kayden moved into an alleyway. With a sigh, she leaned against the nearby wall, dropping her head back against the surface and staring absentmindedly up at the sky. Her attention was momentarily snagged by a cloud as it drifted across the sun. The absence of light combined with the Fall air made Adelaide shiver once more. 

"You don't understand why he's angry?" Kayden asked, reclining against the opposite wall and crossing his arms. Adelaide's face burned with shame. "Just give him some time."

"But we don't have time, Kayden," Adelaide hissed, her eyes beginning to burn, too. "Once we're in England, we'll be at war. And once the war is over, we'll either be dead or Henry will be crowned and married. These past months were all that he and I had left, and he chose to spend them angry with me."

Kayden opened his mouth to respond, but stopped as a shadow joined them in the alleyway. Adelaide didn't need to raise her head to know who it was as Kayden pushed off from the wall. She heard Henry sigh softly before he moved in her direction, took her hand and led her further into the darkness of the alleyway. They turned around a number of corners until they were secluded and cut off from the rest of Harfleur in a dead end. Adelaide couldn't even hear the noises of the soldiers anymore once they stopped walking. 

Instantly, Henry had Adelaide pushed up against the wall and was kissing her, furiously and desperately. 

This had been their routine since that fateful meeting with the French regent. Henry didn't try to talk to her, he didn't answer her questions or accept her apologies, he just kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until they were both breathless. At night, he would visit her, lose himself in her for hours, and then leave in the morning still angry and hurt and despairing. Breaking Adelaide's heart each time. 

Their mouths were an assault of tongue and teeth and clawing hands as they molded to one another while simultaneously trying to force one another away. With a pained groan, Henry withdrew, dropping his head to Adelaide's shoulder and clutching her in his arms painfully. She was about to question why he'd stopped before she realized that he was crying. That she was crying. 

"I'm still so angry with you," he croaked, his arms tightening. "Why would you say no, Adelaide? Why would you turn down such a great opportunity? Why would you pick me over your dream?" 

"Henry," she tried, hiccuping through the tears, but before the words could form completely he was kissing her again, kissing her like he was a dying man and she was the cure. But as Adelaide's back dug into the wall and Henry grunted in pain as her hands pulled at his hair, she was beginning to think that maybe she was wrong. 

She wasn't his cure at all. 

She was his sickness.