War of Hearts || Reign || REWRITE

Chapter 6

May 8th 1562, Château de Louvre, Paris

I wake with a heavy weight pressing me down. My legs, my arms, even my chest feel pinned. With a groan, I open my eyes and see why. My limbs are tangled with those of Maximilian and Francis. The three of us lie sprawled across Francis's great four-poster bed, still dressed in last night's clothes.

"Get off me," I mutter, trying to push them aside.

"Quiet, woman. My head is splitting," Maximilian complains, dragging his leg off me and flopping onto his back with a theatrical sigh.

I turn to Francis, still asleep, his breath steady and calm. "Francis, move," I hiss, shoving at his shoulder.

He mumbles, cracks one eye open, and groans. "Why wake me? I was sleeping perfectly."

"You were lying on my arm," I snap, yanking it free.

He releases me with a crooked smile, his fingers brushing against mine before I can pull away. My cheeks grow hot, and I quickly look aside.

Max, now half sitting up, watches us with raised brows. "Are you already bickering? It is morning!"

"It is impossible to argue with someone half-asleep," I shoot back, climbing out of the bed and smoothing my wrinkled gown. They sit there with their wild hair and tired faces, and I shake my head. "You are both ridiculous."

Francis props himself on one elbow, smirking. "Perhaps. But admit it, it was a good evening."

I roll my eyes and move toward the door. "I must go before anyone sees this. The last thing this court needs is more whispers."

The corridor is silent when I slip out, most courtiers still asleep after the celebrations. I make my way to a hidden latch behind a tapestry and pull it open. As children, Max and I had spent hours in these passages, hiding from our governesses and laughing until our sides hurt. Once, they had felt like a secret kingdom. Now, they are only an escape.

The narrow stone walls guide me to the small door that opens near my chambers. I step inside, my breath quickening. Claudine, my maid, is already waiting.

"My lady, you are late," she scolds gently. "The queen has asked for you."

"Is there time for a bath?" I ask, slipping off my shoes.

"Of course." She disappears, and soon I sink into warm lavender-scented water. I close my eyes, but the thought of Francis's gaze the night before lingers. It is dangerous to think of him at all.

Claudine dresses me in pale blue velvet embroidered in silver, my hair braided loosely and pinned with silver clips.

When I enter Queen Catherine's apartments, the smell of bread and honey fills the air. Sunlight spills across the table where she sits, her ladies arranged neatly around her. She dismisses them with a wave when she sees me.

"Sit, my girl," she says. A dish of strawberries glistens before me. "I know these are your favorite."

I curtsy and take one, murmuring thanks.

Her gaze sharpens. "How is Mary?" she asks directly.

I hesitate. "She is... adjusting. The court feels new to her. She still leans on her ladies more than she should."

Catherine folds her hands. "Then you must keep guiding her. You know this court. You know how quickly a wrong word becomes a weapon."

"I understand, Your Majesty."

She leans forward slightly. "Remember: Mary must trust you fully. She must never doubt your friendship."

I nod, though the weight of the task presses heavily.