The Crown

Chapter Thirty Seven

Beatrice paced around what little room she had to move. She stopped at each extremity the chains around her ankles permitted, repeating it over and over.

The guard that occasionally came to check on her arrived. He reached to draw his sword, as he did each time, but paused. He no longer felt the need to remind her of what he could do. Besides, it seemed as if the prisoner had her mind elsewhere.

She looked up at the guard, acknowledging his presence. 

He turned to leave but stopped, looking back at her. "I am curious, prisoner. What have you done to end up here?"

She laughed and sat on the bench. "Be in love."

"Surely our King is not that heartless," he muttered. "In my whole career as a guard, I have never once seen a prisoner in this cell."

"This is less of a cell than a torture chamber," she told him. "The King wishes to keep me alive and remind me of what I am missing above."

The guard shifted uncomfortably. "I thought you were but a servant?"

"The prince was courting me," she let out, wincing at her own words. "We were in love."

"Were?"

"Of course," she snapped. "I am in no position to leave this cell, am I? How am I to expect him to still love me if he has no idea where I am?"

"True love would persevere no matter what," he offered.

She laughed, grinding her teeth. "Look what true love did to me."

The guard paced in front of her cell, thinking. He had been assigned to guard a funeral yesterday, but was never informed of who the funeral was for. He had noticed, as did the crowd who attended, that the prince was visibly suffering. 

If the prisoner before him claimed to be the prince's true love, then why would she not be by his side at a funeral? 

He stopped and stared at her. "The funeral was for you?"

Beatrice stared back at him.

The guard furrowed his brows and shook his head in disbelief. He could not fathom how awful a person must be, let alone a King, to orchestrate such a situation. I suppose the castle guards are truly misinformed, he told himself. 

The echo of footsteps filled their ears as the guard straightened himself. He stomped his foot and saluted to the King, who had just arrived at the floor. 

Marcus nodded to the guard and waved him away, eager to be alone with the prisoner. The guard bowed, reluctant to leave after discovering such interesting news, but knew his duty to the crown was far stronger. 

"I have news," Marcus spoke when they were left alone. "Wedding news."

Beatrice watched him open the cell doors and walk through.

"Tobias has proposed to Princess Lauren today. They will be married in a few days," he taunted. 

She closed her eyes. She did not wish to believe his words were true, but even she had seen the guest list. She knew such a situation was bound to happen now that the prince thought she was dead. He no longer had a reason to deny Lauren's engagement.

"I can already imagine the bundle of joys their marriage shall bring to the kingdom," he continued. 

His taunts were cut short by the rapid echo of loud footsteps coming their way. The guard from earlier panted before them, bowing quickly. 

"Your Majesty, you must come at once!" he rushed out. 

Marcus furrowed his brows, disturbed by the sudden commotion. "How urgent could this be?"