The King's Eye

Chapter 11

When our bedroom door was finally shut and well wishes for us ended, Francis had been gentle. His hands gently caressed my hair, his fingers running through the strands before holding me. And when I let out a slight cry he apologized. It would be a lie to say I didn't enjoy the intimacy, but I didn't know if I could ever love him. I didn't have to love him to perform my duties as a wife.

I hugged the pillow under my head closer to me at the thought of it. I was a wife.

Shifting to face him, I couldn't help but forget the animalistic nature of him for a moment. The moonlight glinting off his blonde hair turned it pearlescent. His strong jaw feathered, his eyes twitching through the dream he was deeply rooted in. I could admit he was handsome, but the thought of finding him attractive made me feel dirty and shameful.

He had belittled me. He had talked ill of my father. I hadn't gotten to say goodbye to my father...

Rolling back over, I gently left the bed. Only reminded of my naked body as the coolness of night hit me. Quickly, I grabbed my chemise and robe, cocooning myself as tight as I could in its warmth before tiptoeing across the frigid wooden floors. Although it was summer, the nights were still unusually cool enough for a fire. The embers in ours had gone out hours ago. I had watched the blaze that roared in it while being bedded flicker out as Francis first snored.

The desk across the room caught my eye as I lingered at the foot of the bed. Papers piled high hung from the edges, only a light breeze away from scattering across the floor. And some did lie at the desk's feet, crumpled into little balls. I thought about looking through the papers. Gathering information. But I decided I could begin my duties another day, the thought of trying to look through the papers as Francis slept only feet away made me nervous.

I tiptoed to the door and slowly opened it. A loud squeak screamed from the hinges, making my breath catch. My new husband shifted in the bed, but didn't wake. Sighing I slipped through the door, closing it only to lean my back against it in relief.

The hall was empty as a clock chimed two in the morning. This wing of Versailles was quiet, but from the windows of the hall I could see flickering lanterns and moving bodies on the opposite side of the palace. I found myself paused in front of the window panes, my fingers tracing along the glass as I stared at the revelry in the distance. In the courtyard below, though, a man in a drunken stupor seemed to be swaying back and forth with the breeze. One hand held out a bottle as the other was up in a fist, his arms making pretend wings. Before him stood a woman with her hands on her hips, her stance alone yelling at him to sober up.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night, I realized it was the only two people who gave me hope.

⚹⚹⚹⚹

Jacques struggled to stay upright as he sat on the edge of the fountain in front of the labyrinth of the garden, his hands flailing through the open air as he talked. Next to him, Elodie sat criss-crossed, her dress barely skimming the water as she let her fingers run over it sending little ripples across its great expanse.

They didn't hear me as I approached, still only in my chemise and robes, my toes digging into the dirt.

"You know I-I tried to stop it." Jacques' words slurred as he spoke. His index finger pointed at the air, "I stormed into his study and said, your majesty, you cannot allow this marriage to happen!" His mouth remained slightly ajar before he spat on the ground. "You know he threatened to send me back to the gallows?"

"It's not like you to let your emotions interfere like this," Elodie sighed, squeezing his shoulder. "I heard you snuck into the ceremony?"

"Of course, you did." Jacques shook his head, letting it fall back so the moonlight kissed his face. "Elodie, I've never been this angry." He took a large swig from the bottle next to him. "I feel like I've lost."