THE NIGHT WAS QUIET AS A NATION GRIEVED. LIT PAPER LANTERNS FLOATED across the River in memoriam, each bearing the young Queen Anne's likeness. She was of unusual beauty, with hair like a burning fire and eyes like the morning sky; but most importantly a smile that could soften the hardest of hearts, reserved and sometimes hardly even noticeable, but charming in ways that words could do no justice.
The people had heard little, yet, of how exactly things had occurred; there were only rumours, snatches of them. A ball. An attack. Men, masked and armed. The King saved, but his wife shot. Some said three times, in the chest. Others claimed it was one fatal bullet to the head.
Nobody really knew. There were no real witnesses; the nobles present had all been evacuated before it had happened, only the King and Queen kept in the ballroom at gunpoint. There had been no official statement, either. The King had failed to address the nation; he had not even appeared before his people since the attack. Nobody faulted him for it – they had all loved the Queen as much as he did.
Along the riverbank, a woman sobbed like she had lost a loved one. In the castle the King sat, staring out the window and down a winding road, his gaze hollow. He missed her already. He had hardly had a chance to say goodbye.
29/3/19: The prologue's seen a couple edits! Here's the latest version; probably finalised. I'm super excited to report that Chapter One is ready, too! Happy reading!
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One for Cards
Historical FictionAddie is not one for cards. Or finishing school. Or the pianoforte. She enjoys sitting on her rooftop during dusk, and reading, and being alone. She enjoys lessons in politics with her tutor Mr Williams. She enjoys being in the background - comforta...
