The holy ruler

Chapter 10: "A Plan in Motion"_

King Louis of France offered Anastasia his arm, and she took it, her hand resting lightly on his sleeve. "Zut alors, you look lovely today, Anastasia," he said, his French accent thick and rich. "That dress, she was made for you, no?"

Anastasia smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Merci, Your Majesty," she said, her voice husky and seductive. "I'm glad you like it. I wore it just for you, Louis."

The king's eyes locked onto hers, and Anastasia could see the desire burning in their depths. She knew she had him in her sights, and with a gentle smile, she reached out and took his hand.

As they walked, Kye followed discreetly behind, his eyes fixed on Anastasia's back. He had coached her on how to flirt, how to use her charms to ensnare the king. And now, he watched with pride as she put his lessons into practice.

The king and Anastasia strolled through the gardens, their conversation light and easy. They talked of art and music, of literature and philosophy. Anastasia was careful to show off her intelligence and wit, to make the king see her as a worthy partner.

As they turned a corner, a fountain came into view, its waters dancing in the sunlight. King Louis stopped, his eyes fixed on Anastasia's face. "You know, I've been thinking," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. "Perhaps it's time for me to take a new queen. One who is young and beautiful, intelligent and charming."

Anastasia's heart raced as she met the king's gaze. She knew this was the moment she had been waiting for. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Your Majesty," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The king's eyes locked onto hers, and Anastasia could see the desire burning in their depths. She knew she had him in her sights, and with a gentle smile, she reached out and took his hand.

Just then, a voice shrilled from behind them. "Louis, what is the meaning of this?"

Anastasia turned to see the Queen of France, her face twisted in anger and jealousy. "Ah, Your Majesty," Anastasia said, her voice sweet as honey. "I was just enjoying a stroll with your husband. He's been telling me all about his love of art and literature."

The queen's eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on Anastasia's hand on the king's arm. "You dare to touch him?" she spat. "You think you can just waltz in here and steal him from me?"

Anastasia didn't back down, her eyes locked on the queen's. "I'm not afraid of you," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "And I'm certainly not afraid to go after what I want. And what I want is the king. And this dress..." she gestured to her pink jeweled gown, "I wore it just for him."

The queen's face turned red with rage, but Anastasia just smiled, her eyes never leaving the queen's face. "You're just mad because you know you can't compete with me," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "You're old and tired, and I'm young and beautiful. And I always get what I want."

The king cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on Anastasia's face. "I think it's time for me to take my leave," he said, his voice low and husky. "But before I go, may I?"

Anastasia raised an eyebrow, and the king leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. Anastasia's heart raced as she felt a surge of excitement. She knew she had won.

"Until next time, my dear," the king said, his eyes sparkling with desire. And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Anastasia to face the queen's wrath alone. Anastasia felt bad Because she was starting to sound like mistress Vivian. And she didn't like it at all.