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THOUGH IT APPEARED as an honour to ride with the king, I was far more accustomed to the disaster of such an event than Mary had been. Mary hadn't been at court long enough to witness the men that often come and go, expendable within their own existences for the mere safety of their King. It wasn't that I had believed King Henry wasn't worth as much; it had been that each life and entity was as worthy as the other. Or, at least that had been my own view of our people. It left Catherine laughing horrendously at my amplified empathy, as she had deemed it.
Yet, standing beside Catherine and Mary along the balcony as the man rode on their horses; accompanied by the skilful fanfare of trumpets; departing the castle grounds for their King, I couldn't help but feel as though Mary was beginning to feel the way I had been. That all beings were as worthy as the last. She seemed to be falling with the same grace I had.
"I don't see Bash. Isn't it the custom for every able-bodied man to ride to war with the King?" Mary questioned softly, her head tilting almost like a confused puppy.
"Oh, it's not war," Catherine responded quickly, shaking her head as she stepped closer to me, "Just a minor display of temper by some peasants. Our Sebastian's probably out riding at the front with the king."
I quietly scoffed before I added, "Men must find something to kill from time to time."
Catherine's slight chuckle brightened her face as she added, "It's a pity they can't live harmoniously like women."
"Harmoniously?" Mary challenged, leaving Catherine to roll her eyes at her absurdity, "Like you and me?"
"Oh, I was thinking more of you and Olivia. Or, of course, you and Rosa." Catherine retorted sarcastically, knowing exactly how to penetrate Mary's heart with a dagger. "What a sweet, generous girl you are. You're just like our Rosalia. She and Francis can't keep away from each other, and you just take it in stride."
"Catherine, that's enough," I growled quietly, feeling my cheeks flush at Catherine's behaviour, "You needn't worry about Olivia anymore, anyway."
Unfazed by Catherine's tantalising manipulation, Mary proceeded to explain, "Francis and I... we have an understanding. And Rosalia..."
"Well, that's exactly what I mean. I know Francis is not the sort to bed a girl he didn't love. I'm so pleased that you've made room for her in your life, as I made room for Diane," Catherine finished, pushing the last remnants of her metaphorical dagger deep within Mary's withering heart.
Men were gifted, with such freedom to love. If Mary had dared take up a lover, it would be her own reputation that dissipates. If it is me who takes a lover, my reputation is tarnished, yet salvageable. Having such powerful countries was all that mattered, and Mary, was the cockroach beneath my slippers. Though, I knew I had more loyalty to the girl than that.
