Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 22

[CW: death, grief]

The Queen's bedchambers were dark, the curtains drawn, and only a few flickering candles by her bedside. The air was metallic, mixed with the sweet scent of laudanum flavored with honey and cinnamon. Jourdon's hand, which had never left mine, clenched as he paused in the doorway, staring at his mother.

I followed his gaze, and my stomach lurched. It felt like only a few days ago she had sat smiling as I had met her, but now she looked so small. Her skin clung to her bones, outlining the skeletal structure of her face. Her eyelids sagged and her breathing rattled in her chest, thick and liquid. A smear of blood lingered next to her lips.

Jourdon bolted to her. Tears dripping from his eyes as his voice lost all of his composure. "Mother," he whispered. "I'm here now. Please, stay with me."

He took her hand in his, but it was limp. His jaw clenched as he stared at it, using both of his hands to clasp it with his, rubbing them over hers like somehow if he transferred his heat to her she would warm back up.

I took in a deep ragged breath, a numbness leaking up from my toes, making my legs leaden. Everything in the moment was too much.

"She's worse than even this morning," he whispered to me, he tilted his head back so his eyes could meet mine. "When I came in she was trying to get out of bed, saying she had to get ready for lunch and the nurses had to hold her down to keep her off her feet." He let out a harsh exhale.

"She commanded they let her go because she had to be ready for the princess. I believe she intended to invite you. She has always looked forward to meeting you." He closed his eyes, a sob rattling in his chest. "I thought she might be getting better..."

That did it. A sob broke from me and I pressed a hand over my mouth.

I stared at the queen, remembering her warm smile. She was a stranger, I didn't know why it struck me then. Like I was losing something I'd never had the chance to have.

 If things weren't were they were, would Queen Caressa have been like a mother to me? If Jourdon wasn't so terrible, if things had gone as I had hoped.

 I imagined her, at a different time. Upright and full of life, sitting across from me as we had tea and ate sweets and sandwiches full of jam. She could have been the mother I'd never truly had.

My gaze slipped to Jourdon. He was crying, holding his mother's hand to his lips. Did Caressa know of her son's doings? Of who he really was? I doubted it. I didn't know her, but there was something to here, a purity of her soul. One that even an Angel would not harm.

Yet still, here she was, soon to be taken by the Angel of Death herself. I was no fool. I had never seen someone die before, but Queen Caressa was not long in this world.

Jourdon, seeing my tears, turned to me, embracing me before I had a chance to realize what he was doing. He held me tightly, burrowing his wet face into my neck, clinging to me as he shuddered with his grief. I slowly wrapped my arms around his back. Pain lanced my heart, I stared blankly over his shoulder as the queen's breaths grew more and more shallow.

After he stopped trembling Jourdon pulled away, setting his jaw. He looked up at the nurses hovering nearby. "Has Father come to see her yet?"

The nurse shifted uncomfortably, then shook her head. "Sorry, Your Royal Highness, but he has not been by her chambers for some time, not even when she was well."

Jourdon's gaze was steely, flickering a hard amber in the candlelight. "He was informed I assume?"

The nurse nodded, lips pursed in a way that suggested her own disgust. "Yes, he was."