The King's Eye

Chapter 36

Jacques

Taking a long sip from the metal mug of beer in my hand, I set it down with a thud. Around the room eyes looked to me, glaring in a way that reminded me I may not belong. If it were not obvious by the lack of tricolor cockade on my lapel, it was the length of my pants. Silk breeches cutting off at my knee, not full length trousers. I was not a working class man.

Not anymore.

For hours I had listened to ideas of fixed wages, implementations of affordable food pricing laws, and more, but at the end of each well intended thought was a radical sword driving home. The craving of uprising and demands being immediate were chilling, and the fact I wanted what they wanted but could not stomach the false followings told me enough.

I needed to get back to Sophie.

Yellow gray eyes pierced through me from the head table of the room making me feel uneasy. Marat and his sickly disposition were gossip across many channels, but to see him in person. I took another sip of my beer, setting it down more gently, before getting up to leave.

"Are you leaving us so soon royal assassin?" Marat's sickly voice raked through my mind, a smirk crossed his scratched up face.

"Unfortunately, monsieur," I forced a smile. "My wife is waiting for me."

Murmurs filled the room as Marat coughed into a handkerchief. He was known for deranged moods and insatiable thirst, which was clear by the four sips of water he had taken just since finding interest in my personal dismissal. "Wife?" He stood up shakily, revealing hands that just like his face were scarred with nail marks. "Nobody told me you were wed, Jacques. Congratulations are in–"

"I look forward to hearing more of your ideas, Jean." I waved to him. "Though, it would be best to not allow pamphlets full of rumors to drive your opposition. Maybe go to the source?"

A low chuckle left the man next to me. His face somewhat familiar, but not enough to remember why. Eyes like sapphires locked in on me like a pistol readying to shoot. "Bold of you to say as the king's henchman."

"Do I know you?" My brows narrowed, hand immediately gripping at my dagger.

A wayward smile crossed his face. "Of me possibly, but not formally."

"That does not answer my question," I said between closed teeth.

Marat cleared his throat, his beak of a nose twitching. "There will be no bloodshed here, assassin." The sick voice came out somewhat stern. "Though it is nice to know your reputation does in fact precede you. Your temper is quite limited."

"If it wasn't I wouldn't be so good at my line of work. Now, if you would excuse me." I felt the snarl spread on my face as I looked back at the man who had been sitting next to me, his pants the same as mine. Hypocritical bastard, I thought to myself as I left the crowded pub and made my way onto the street.

⚹⚹⚹⚹

Sophie had been asleep for hours when I returned to find the queen reading a book at her bedside. As if the woman laying in the bed were her small child, she quietly read aloud.

From the doorway I watched the woman everyone ridiculed be what most deemed her not capable of. A mother, gentle and kind. Her majesty had always shown me that same kindness despite gossip I myself received.

We were one in the same that way, and not many knew us past the masks.

"You can come in, Jacques." She looked up from the book, closing it and setting it on the stand beside Sophie's bed. "I know you are trying to be polite, but you know I do not like eavesdropping."

I fully opened the door, stepping into the room. "Yes, your majesty."

She waved off my formalities. "I won't discuss it with you tonight, but I will note you being in this palace is out of my good nature." Her lips thinned into a line, brows straightening with them. "And I will not tell his majesty."

"I am fully prepared to do so myself, your majesty."

"Good." Giving a piqued smile, she stood up from the chair by Sophie's bed. "Do you have any other secrets I should know of?"

Looking at Sophie, I felt my heart break. Her face bruised and beaten, blood still crusting her nostrils. "Sophie and I..." I gulped down the nerves. "Sophie is my wife, your majesty. We wed in secret." Saying it aloud for the second time eased me. Made it all feel more real. "I do not regret going against you or his majesty in doing so."

She took a step back, pure astonishment lighting her face. "And you shouldn't," she said, her hand cupping my face. "That is wonderful news."

"Your majesty?"

"The day of the wedding...to the duke. You were hidden behind the columns in the chapel." Pulling her hand away she walked over to the window, looking out to fountains. "I will never forget the look on your face. The pain of watching her being married off to that–"

"Monster." I finished the sentence for her. "You'll forgive me if I do not like that term, as my wife has traded one for another, your majesty."

Glancing over her shoulder, I saw a mother's rage curl through her nostrils. As she opened her mouth to speak, Sophie shifted in the bed. A heavy sigh leaving her lungs made everything in the world stop. Gradually her eyelids fluttered open, slow to process everything around her. "Jacques," she wheezed.

I was already laying next to her, wrapping my arm around her as I said through a choked voice. "I'm right here."

Her majesty glided across the room to leave us, leaving only after she said loud enough to hear over her mumble that she could only hope her own son's heart was as good as my own. With that, I tucked myself in tighter to my wife and let her calm breaths lull me to sleep.