Drowning: A Reign Fanfiction

Chapter 16

"Leave us," Francis commanded in an icy tone as he glared at the man hunched in the corner of the cell.

I could barely recognize Louis Conde underneath the cuts and bruises. His tan skin was swollen and purple, and he had dried blood all over his shirt and face.

"Has he seen a physician?" The words slipped from my tongue, before I could even think. For a moment, I had forgotten his betrayal and what it meant.

At the realization, my face grew hard and cold. My breath became shallow as Francis scuffed his boots against the stone floor.

"Yes," Francis said.

I shrugged and took a step forward. I shouldn't care whether he has seen a physician or not: he brought bloodshed upon himself.

"We have questions, and you will answer them," I said, folding my hands over my gown.

For the first time since he left, his chocolate eyes stared into mine, wide, curious, afraid. For someone so impulsive, he was so incredibly vulnerable.

"Your ear . . ." he whispered in wonder. "Francis told me the doctors didn't know if you would survive."

"Well, I did," I said, deadpanning as I watched him struggle to sit upright. "Now, you will answer my questions."

"Yes, Your Majesty." He bowed his head, and silence pervaded the cell.

Francis stepped behind me and placed his hand on the small of my back, where Conde couldn't see. "You got this," he whispered into my ear for only me to hear.

I nodded my head, stiffening my posture as I stared at Conde, cold and emotionless as a rock waiting at the bottom of the ocean. When my lips parted, nothing came. There was no breath. There was no warmth.

There was no part of myself left to give to Louis Conde.

"Why did you write the letter?" I said.

His face scrunched in an unpleasant manner, as if my question had caused him physical pain.

"I couldn't marry Claude," was all he said.

I jerked my head and scoffed. "That isn't good enough."

He snapped. "Well, that's just too bad, isn't it then?"

Francis shoved his finger harshly towards Conde.

"You better watch yourself," Francis threatened, "or I promise you, you will never see daylight again."

"Is that a threat or a fact? Because lately, it seems like all words that drip from your tongue are threats, Francis. If you're going to hang me, please do yourself a favor and get on with it." Conde grunted. He didn't even look at me as he spoke.

He didn't look at me. I clenched my fists against my gown as I withheld a scream.

"You will not speak to your King in such a manner," Francis seethed. "You're fortunate that I haven't personally ordered you to the gallows. Then, all of France would see you as you truly are: a traitor."

"You're still blind Francis. You abandon the needs of your wife daily in the name of the crown that sits upon your head. Would you have even known that she suffered a miscarriage if she hadn't been laying in your bed in agony?"

"How dare—" Francis started yelling, when I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Enough!"

Narrow, angry eyes settled on my face.

"You're both acting like petulant children," I said, specifically glaring at Francis. "I don't need this right now." I don't need this. I don't want it. Them ripping each other apart for stupid answers isn't worth it.