War of Hearts || Reign || REWRITE

Chapter 17

6th augustus, 1562, Chateau de Fontainebleau

Mary's point of view

The king and queen had invited me to a private dinner in the royal dining chamber.

I didn't know why.

Since Francis's departure three weeks ago, I'd had little opportunity to speak with the king—certainly not about my marriage to his son, or the persistent lack thereof. Each passing week made me more uneasy. Every delay was another risk, another missed chance for a secure alliance... and an heir.

I was nineteen.
Young, yes—but not too young to marry.
My mother, Marie de Guise, had married younger still.

With her first husband, the Duke of Longueville, she had a son, Francis, before his early death. She was left a widow and pregnant with Louis—who died in childhood. Not long after, she married my father, and bore him three children. Only one lived: me. And he died days after my birth.

I became Queen of Scots before I ever knew what the word meant.

My mother never married again. She ruled in my name, protected my throne, sacrificed her entire life to secure mine. And now that she was gone, the burden of Scotland rested on my shoulders alone.

But no one rules alone forever.

To keep the crown, I needed power. I needed troops. I needed a husband.

And if it could not be Francis, it would have to be another king. But those were in short supply—and I knew France wouldn't tolerate me choosing freely. So the only path forward... was still through Henri's son.

I'd even asked my uncles—the Duke and Cardinal of Guise—to speak to the king in council. They had influence. They had blood ties. But still, Henri gave no answer.

Which made this invitation suspicious.

~

The royal dining chamber was dimly lit.

The king stood by the window, his back to the door, his silhouette framed in green velvet. Queen Catherine sat near him, hands folded in her lap. She rose slowly when I entered—graceful, but not particularly welcoming.

When Henri turned, he smiled. Warmly.

Too warmly.

"Ah, Queen Mary," he said, as though we were old friends. "We're so pleased you could join us."

I bowed my head. "Your Majesty." Then to the queen, more carefully, "Madame."

"Queen Mary," she acknowledged with a nod, her tone cool as ever.

"Shall we sit?" she added, gesturing to the long table.

Henri sat at one head, as expected. I was placed at the other—smaller seat, less ornate. Catherine sat directly between us, an elegant barrier.

"I'm honoured by the invitation," I said as the first course was brought forward.

Henri raised his goblet. "We've spent too little time with our future daughter-in-law. And with Francis away, I imagine you've been feeling his absence?"

He still called me that—daughter-in-law. Good. He hadn't changed his mind.

"I do miss him," I replied with practiced sweetness. "And since Your Majesty brings him up... I was wondering when the dauphin and I might be wed."

There. Let the game begin.

Henri didn't flinch. Instead, he dabbed his mouth with a cloth and leaned back.