Lord Henry Darle paced his chambers. The rooms in which he chose to reside were dark and opulent, with heavily draped curtains blocking most natural light, while flickering candles on every surface cast over the room a warm glow, highlighting the rich reds and golds with which he had decorated his place. He was not one known for his modesty, and so everything that surrounded him reflected his wealth and status. He was, of course, a royal.
Discarded on the floor at his feet were screwed up and abandoned remnants of his wedding contract, which his cousin, and future wife, had scrutinised and corrected with such care. He himself had spent hours trying to find holes in her foolproof corrections, hoping she would have made a mistake that would allow him to take power, but he commended her for her meticulousness for not a fault could be found.
It was no secret to anyone who knew Henry Darle that ever since he was but a young man he had dreamed of becoming King, yet had lived always in his cousins shadow. The great Princess Vivienne, heir to the throne of Dreadnaught. Now that she was to be his wife, he would not allow her to be seen as his superior, for he believed in his heart that the kingdom was his by the wishes of the gods.
Lord Darle ceased his pacing and knelt down to collect the discarded pages of the contract, which he carefully filed back into their order and placed on his desk. He knew that if he didn't find a way around his fiancés perfected agreement, that he would become nothing more than the kingdom's sponsor, pouring money into the land and getting nothing back from it.
The Lord sunk into his seat, defeated, pages of notes and scribbled splayed on the desk in front of him. He sat, head in hands, pondering his situation. He had remained still for hours, thinking intently and trying to find holes in the Princess' plan, when his doors swung open and the Bishop appeared in the Doorway unannounced.
The old man marched into the room as sternly as his frail body could.
"This young Princess is too headstrong for her own good." He muttered, slamming a hand on Lord Darle's desk, "If she's not careful, someone will get rid of her before the wedding."
Lord Darle knew the Bishop well, and could tell even while sitting in the chamber the previous day, that he was infuriated by the girl's behaviour.
"Save us a lot of bother," He yawned, "Let her carry on like a child who thinks she's in control. If she dies before the wedding, I become King by default."
"Won't look good for you though," The Bishop muttered, "Two dead Queens. Although the nobles would be happy to see the kid gone."
"Of course, it would look a lot better if I marry her before stealing her throne." Henry cowed, sarcasm dripping from his words.
The Bishop frowned, "With that attitude," He snapped, "I'd believe you cared for the girl's fate."
"She is my cousin," replied the Lord, "And she is to be my wife, and like it or not, she is to be our Queen."
The Lord's words silenced the Bishop's quiet rage and he sank into a chair opposite the man who was scrutinising his elderly companions face, trying to read his emotions which he knew were complex. Lord Darle felt that the Bishop was hiding something from him, and so began to pry.
"What became of the prisoner?" He asked
The Bishop knew, as soon as the question left the Lord's lips, that he was suspicious, and so quickly lied about the boy's fate.
"He tried to run as the guards accompanied him to the dungeons," Said the bishop bitterly, "They had no choice but to kill the traitor."
The Bishop knew full well the true happenings the previous night regarding the young servant, for the men handling the boy had reported straight to him, but he decided to keep the gruesome acts of that night a secret from the man who was to become King.
Henry was suspicious of the Bishops quick response, but dropped the topic, not wanting to cause a scene and knowing that he could by truth off whoever's silence the Bishop had payed for.
"When you wed the Princess," the Bishop began, changing the subject, "I'll be sure to switch the contract back to the original, as it seems you're having no luck in finding holes in hers."
Lord Darle nodded, the Bishop was right, there was not a flaw in Princess Vivienne's plan. She was clever, he granted her that much, as clearly did the Bishop, but they had no belief in clever women, especially not clever women in power. The best women in their eyes were pretty and stupid, who kept their legs open and mouths shut.
The Bishop had crossed to the window and was peering out the small gap in the drapes over the green castle grounds below them. The caste grounds extended far in this direction, right to the base of the mountains that made the valley in which the capital lay. He looked over the vineyards and fields with greed in his heart, for when Henry Darle sat on the throne, he knew the kingdom would be in his hands. Darle was nothing more to the Bishop than a chess piece, and he knew he could control him once he was in power.
Henry peered at the Bishop as he stared blankly out the window, waiting for the crumpled old man to say something, but his aged companion remained silent. After many minutes the Bishop sighed and returned to his place by Darle's desk.
"With my amended contract, she will sign away, not only her heart, but her title, leaving it to you, her devoted husband." He picked up the contact pages in his frail hands and held them one by one over the closest candle flame until they were nothing but ashen dust, "When you are crowned king we can dispose of the girl, I'm sure that upon realising she signed away her birth right she will commit an act that we may class treason."
"If you are suggesting that we kill my future wife, I will have to interject." Boomed Lord Darle, angered by the Bishops word.
"Oh, of course not!" the Bishop stammered, "We simply put her away." he stated.
Lord Darle, although having spent years under the Bishop's guidance, did not trust the old man, and so knew that once married, he would have to keep Vivienne close to him. Although he did not care for the girl, he was aware that a Queen doing a disappearing act straight after marrying away her crown would appear almost as terribly as a girl killed before she even became Queen. No, if Vivienne were to die, it would not be on their wedding night, but perhaps on a hunting trip or in a boating accident.
Vivienne's life after marriage would be short, but she would live long enough to provide him an heir.
A/N: Ugh a short chapter that was hell to write once more. This is an UNEDITED chapter, so feel free to point out my mess ups but just keep that in mind!
So who do we think murdered the Queen now? Do you suspect the Bishop or do you think Henry could have done it? Or was it someone else altogether? Only time will tell! And what does everyone think of the plan to get rid of Vivienne? Will it work? So many questions! I hope I can answer a few important ones in the next chapter.
Anyway, here it is, day two of NaNoWriMo is over and I've been writing for hours and am ready for bed!
YOU ARE READING
The Chronicles of the Runaway Queen: Escape to Danger
Fantasy*This version of this book has been abandoned in favor of a re-write - currently in progress*
