War of Hearts || Reign || REWRITE

Chapter 3

May 6th 1562, Château de Louvre, Paris

The next morning I find myself once more in the queen's salon. Her chambers are far busier than yesterday. Princess Elisabeth's wedding is to take place tomorrow, and the last of the guests have arrived: the King of Spain with his retinue, as well as members of the extended royal family.

Queen Catherine sits upon her great chair, surrounded by her three daughters: Elisabeth, the bride; Claude; and young Margaret, who have traveled from Blois to Paris for the occasion. Also present is Princess Margaret, the king's sister, who has come from Savoy to attend her niece's marriage.

In one corner of the salon sit Elisabeth's new Spanish ladies-in-waiting, gathered close together. Even the Spanish king's younger sister, Princess Juana, is here. Once the Crown Princess of Portugal, she was widowed young, and her son inherited and became king in her husband's stead.

I am seated between Elisabeth and Claude—an honor for a bastard such as myself. I know the Spaniards whisper about it, yet it does not trouble me. At the French court I am known; everyone recognizes me as the queen's niece. For them, my presence is no novelty.

Margaret of Savoy leans toward Catherine.
"I heard that my brother the king has invited the Queen of Scotland," she says softly.

Catherine rolls her eyes. "You heard correctly. Elisabeth and I tried to dissuade him, but in vain. She was meant to arrive this very morning."

I exchange a glance with Elisabeth. Since yesterday she has been sour over this news. She cannot bear the thought of Mary Stuart overshadowing her wedding, and I understand. Why should all eyes turn toward the dauphin and the Scottish queen, when Elisabeth herself is the bride?

"Perhaps she has been delayed and will miss the wedding altogether," Margaret of Savoy jests.

Catherine snorts. "If only in my wildest dreams. As if I do not already have enough to manage, I must now keep her in check as well. She must not believe that she rules this court merely because she is a queen."

Margaret laughs. "You worry over nothing, my sister."

"On the contrary," Catherine replies sharply. "Once she weds my son, she will outrank him until he becomes king. She must not think herself greater than he. Someone must remind her of her place." Her gaze drifts about the chamber until it rests on me. "Bianca."

I rise swiftly. "My lady?"

She smiles. "How would you feel about becoming the queen of Scotland's maid of honor?"

I hesitate. The thought fills me with dread, and my face betrays it. Both Catherine and Margaret of Savoy laugh aloud.

"Do not fret, it will not be forever," Catherine continues. "I shall tell her you will guide her in the rules of court and show her the way of things. You are young, close to her age, and have lived at court nearly all your life. She will trust you more than any older lady I might appoint. And if you perform your duty well, she will confide in you—and you will report to me. You will be one of my eyes and ears, as my other ladies are."

It is no secret that Catherine keeps her ladies as spies. Young and old, all beautiful, all loyal. Even the king makes use of them, with her blessing. They can coax secrets from anyone without them ever realizing.

"If it is your will, majesty, then I can only obey. I shall do my best," I answer.

Catherine nods with satisfaction.

A lady-in-waiting enters, leans close, and whispers in the queen's ear. Catherine straightens at once. "Admit her."

"Her Majesty, the Queen of Scotland," the usher announces as the doors swing wide.