War of Hearts || Reign || REWRITE

Chapter 10

May 22nd 1562, Château de Fontainebleau, France

The late afternoon draws near, and the court gathers in the great throne room. Maximilian is to be invested as Duke of Angoulême, followed by a grand celebration. It is an occasion no one wishes to miss.

Out of generosity, Maximilian has ordered a gown made for me, from fabrics I chose myself. It is of deep emerald-green satin, simple yet elegant. The bodice is embroidered with fine gold thread that catches the light subtly. My dark hair is pinned up and covered by a net of pearls and gold, and around my neck I wear a strand of white pearls.

As I wait for Maximilian's entrance, my eyes rest on the dais where the king's throne stands. The king is already seated, with the queen on her slightly smaller throne beside him. Diane de Poitiers stands at the king's side, leaning close to whisper in his ear.

For Diane, this is a day of triumph: after twenty years, her son with the king is finally receiving a noble title worthy of him. She has secured his future. She too is dressed for the occasion, in her customary black and white, this time in heavy velvet. I wonder how she can endure such thick fabric in the spring warmth. Her brown-gray hair is neatly coiled at the back of her head and adorned with golden pins.

My gaze shifts to the queen. Her face reveals nothing of what she thinks about the legitimization of her husband's son. I doubt she cares. She has long since accepted that she must share her husband with another. At least Diane shows her respect; God only knows how many others have not.

I scan the hall. I have not spoken to my father since this morning, and I intend to avoid him. I also wish to avoid Francis, so I keep my eyes moving.

On the dais, two chairs still stand empty. I know Francis will be present, he would not miss such a day for Max. But I do not know for whom the second is intended. Claude often skips ceremonies, deeming them dull, and only attends the feasts that follow. The younger Prince Charles and Princess Margaret are not at court, so it cannot be for them.

"Her Majesty Mary, Queen of Scots, and His Highness the Dauphin!" the footman announces. The courtiers step aside, and all of us sink into bows and curtsies.

I watch as Mary enters on Francis's arm. She smiles softly to those around her, nodding here and there. When she passes me, she offers a smile, her lips forming the words: Come stand with me.

I nod, waiting until she has greeted the king and queen before moving to her side. Mary sits next to Catherine, on a throne equal in size to hers, with Francis on the slightly smaller seat beside her. I slip behind and stand at her back.

"Your Majesty, you sent for me?" I ask politely, ignoring Francis's glance.
"I thought you would wish to see the ceremony from here. He is your closest friend, is he not?" Mary says with a smile.
"That is very kind of you, thank you."

Mary smiles again. "Will your father be present? He arrived today, did he not?" she asks. Francis looks up once more, and Catherine, too, glances briefly at me, rolling her eyes. Clearly, their meeting has not gone well.

"I did not ask him, Majesty, but since he is already at court, I expect he will appear," I reply.
"Then you must be glad to see him again after so many years?"
"I am the happiest," I say dryly. Mary seems not to notice and continues chatting.

I catch Francis's gaze. He looks at me questioningly, as if to ask, Are you all right?
I give a small nod, and he turns back to Mary, smiling at something she says.

Then the sound of trumpets rings through the hall, and the great doors open. The courtiers shift aside as Max appears in the doorway.

He is dressed in dark blue, his dark hair neatly combed back.
"Make way for His Grace, Maximilian of Valois, legitimate son of France!" the footman cries. "Son of King Henri II of France and Lady Diane de Poitiers, maîtresse-en-titre of His Majesty the King."