The Poisoned Throne

Chapter 16

Elizabeth

There was a knock on the door before her lady-in-waiting, Lady Jane Payne, entered Elizabeth’s bedchambers. Jane had a simple beauty about her - her hair had the color of wheat in the summer and her eyes were the sky above it. Though her features were not entirely balanced, she had an easy smile and a kind heart.

However, on this day, she was not smiling. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Your Grace,” she said as she stepped in.

Elizabeth finished pulling out her earring and put it on the table beside her. “Not too much. What is it?”

“Sir Jamie Winsley is here for you,” she said. “I feel I should warn you that he brings some news that aren’t entirely good - judging from his face, at least.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Jane. Is he in my solar?”

“No, I took him to your office,” she said.

“Alright, thank you.”

Elizabeth took a moment after Jane had left her to straighten herself. She felt tired - weary, even. If what Jamie had to say was bad enough that her lady felt the need to warn her, then she was in no rush to hear it. Still, there was no use in ignoring it.

When she entered, she smiled her brightest smile in hopes that it might somehow make the world kinder. “Sir Jamie,” she said pleasantly. “What brings you here this late in the evening?”

“I hope I did not interrupt you,” he said, watching her sit down on the opposite side of the table from him. “I wouldn’t have come at this hour if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

She shook her head. “You did not interrupt anything at all. Tell me, why did you come?”

“There are disturbing news from the south of Etheron,” he said. “Evelyn has passed the border with her army. She slipped into the Branches without even a hint of resistance from the local lords.”

A moment passed where Elizabeth felt nothing. Then, her bubble collapsed and the weight of the world fell upon her, and she could not breathe, and she felt that she would soon be crushed, surely, and she just wanted to scream with frustration, and scream, and scream.

“So we are at war,” she said, keeping herself composed. She wanted to cry, to lie in her bed and muffle her lips with her pillow, close her eyes and pretend she did not have to leave its softness ever.

He nodded. “I have already begun mobilizing the army. Ishmael asks which lords he should write to.”

“All of them,” she said. “We’ll need all of them. I’ll write to Aryavan, Queen Anne and Caterina myself.”

Jamie sat still for a moment, watching her with care. “Elizabeth? Are you alright?”

She blinked and looked at him. “Yes. Why?”

“You’re very pale, and it looked as though you might fall off your chair,” he told her, frowning worriedly. “Are you feeling sick?”

She shook her head and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “No, no, I’m just a little tired.”

He did not look as though he believed her. “Please, Elizabeth,” he said. “If there’s anything wrong, tell me or Ishmael, or just someone.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” she told him, making herself stare at him a little more harshly in hopes that it would stop him from asking any more questions.

He smiled, a quick, small smile of his that gave her more comfort than he would ever know. “Then I shall go tell them of your orders,” he said.