A Dangerous Destiny: The Pure One Book I

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hello readers! Happy Friday!!!! So this week I offer up...A new Henry chapter! Wondering if Cecil Dirham is a friend or traitor? Well this chapter should make the answer to that question pretty clear;-)

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Henry

Forcing his eyes open Henry stared at the thin outline of white light framing the heavy damask curtains hanging over his windows as they worked futilely to block the day from entering his bedchamber. Though he should have risen hours before he found that the seeming constant headache he had suffered over the last week was finally taking its toll. Fredrick's death had not proved entirely advantageous to his desired rise to power

Though Henry had been fully prepared to take on the role of King, and had known well that maintaining the throne would not be simple, it seemed that his father had more loyalty among the courtly nobility than he'd originally hoped. Now, only three days after his official coronation, Henry could not help but feel weighed down by the effort that would inevitably be required to maintain his hold on the crown.

The news of Fredrick's demise had sparked an undercurrent of unrest across the land. Dissension had spread from the lowest riffraff to former Hapsben sympathizers, all the way up to those of noble blood. There were many who suddenly saw the potential to raise themselves to power from the crumbling ruins the former King left in his wake. It was no secret that Fredrick's grasp upon the reins of Empire had been slipping for years after all. Henry knew well that many still believed him to be young and inexperienced. They were certain that as he struggled to maintain his title, they could fully topple the Bastario regime.

It seemed that in the short time since he had viciously destroyed the rebels at Mulerdale with his own hand, people had already begun to forget the risks of outright treason. Of inciting his wrath. Or perhaps they didn't care. Erestia was a prize stag at the hunt. It seemed everyone had her in their sight and was eager to take a shot. Henry knew it must be easy enough for those with sizable estates and personal armies, to imagine that the Vox Populi had only been defeated due to their lack of means. He supposed he couldn't blame them for their ambition, but he would crush any who dared attempt to usurp his throne.

A knock came at the door, only accentuating the throbbing within his head. "Your Majesty?" Henry recognized the voice of the High Chancellor.

"Sire, are you unwell?"

Henry resisted the urge to pull the sheets back over his head and continue to feign sleep. It would do no good. He knew that Cecil would come either way. Through the door he could hear his sentry guards speaking to Dirham.

"No, his Majesty has not yet stirred," he heard them say. "No, he had not seemed unwell last evening."

Henry pulled himself out of bed, ignoring the increased pain and wash of dizziness inspired by the sudden raising of his head from the pillow. He had just put on his dressing gown when the door creaked open and Cecil Dirham peeked his head into the room.

"Your Majesty," he whispered. Cecil crept towards the bed, taking no notice of Henry's figure looming in the corner. " Your Majesty, are you awake?"

"Very much so, Lord Dirham," Henry said. He saw Cecil jump slightly as he turned towards him.

"Good God, Sire. You gave me quite a fright," he said, with a hand to his chest.

"Forgive me, my friend," Henry said, stepping from the shadows. "And please forgive my tardiness. I know I should have been at court hours ago."

"Are you unwell, Sire?"

"No, no," he said, "I am fine. Just a bit tired." Henry walked to his desk and sat.