Marysia Jagiellon, Princess of Poland, had never expected to become Queen of England. Such a high title was never in the cards for her, as a woman of questionable birth, rumoured to be the daughter of her mother's lover and not her royal sire. She c...
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TRAITORS
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Marysia wasn't sure where the hatred inside of her came from, but it coiled around her organs like a snake in her belly. It was three days away from the wedding, two away from Christmas, and she was standing on the walkway overlooking the courtyard of Westminster Palace with her hands tightly clenching the bannister. The air was cold, almost cruel as it lashed against her cheek.
Richard stood almost directly below her, a few steps away from the stairs that would bring him up to her in seconds if he put his mind to it. He stood there like a sentry, fingers curled possessively against the hilt of his sword where it hung at his side like if he let go all form of defence would disappear. But he wasn't standing there to protect her. Not even himself. Marysia doubted protection was even on his mind.
An attack, though, was a different story. The carriage that Marysia had been dreading rolled through the gates, followed by two mounted riders in rich clothing. Their hair was tousled from the wind, but that was the only sign of them not being put together. They would've planned their return perfectly, Marysia was sure.
What little was left if one committed treason?
Marysia had never seen the two men, but she knew who they were well enough. The elder with black curls and a gruff, sinister face was undoubtedly the Earl of Warwick, King Edward's one-time friend and closest advisor. Until he all but shoved a dagger in his back, Marysia reminded herself, trying with all her might to hide her sneer. It would be unseemly and undiplomatic to show her distaste for the man. But how could she hide it away? Her eyes trailed to the second man. The disdain she felt towards the Earl of Warwick was multiplied tenfold at the sight of him.
An advisor who'd grown too jealous betraying his king was one thing. A brother plotting to overthrow his elder sibling due to his own misplaced ambition and greediness was another. She tried to reconcile that thought with her own sweet younger brothers. Neither of the younger ones would ever dare endanger Vladislaus in any way, Marysia was sure.
So it was difficult, to say the least, to try and understand the Duke of Clarence's reasoning for rebelling against his brother. It was not unheard of, she knew. The bitter taste still stayed in her mouth, unsavoury and rancid at the mere sight of him.
George the Fool, Ivan had told her on the ship from Poland to Bishop's Lynn. Marysia wondered if it was true. She would find out soon enough.
King Edward walked past her, shooting her a grim smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. Marysia could see the way Warwick and Clarence tensed at the sight of him even from this far away. It almost made her laugh. Good, she thought, they should be uncomfortable.
