Your Infidelity: Allowed It, Because I Love You

Please, Please Not Her

Perspective d' François

I have woken up, and it is morning. A servant has already prepared a small portion of food on the table beside mine and Mary's bed. It is our bed, but she has not sleep beside me for two days now.

Today I plan on searching for the Protestant men that were in our chambers that tragic evening. These couple of days I have been wondering if Mary and I are going to be all right. If we are going to be the way we used to be again. She's been so distant. She wouldn't even let me touch her hand.

I admit, she and I haven't been the same even weeks before the attack. I constantly had to push her away thinking I was protecting her

And yet, I failed to protect her just when she needed it most.

After eating my breakfast, I get dressed.

One if mine and Mary's traditional doings as husband and wife was that I chat to her about anything at all while she and I both get dressed.

Some times we get distracted seeing each other's bare bodies that we fail to get dressed and make love instead.

I wonder if we're going to be like that again.

Now, I don't have her to dress with, so it took me only about two minutes to finish the task.

I head outside our-- my-- chambers. I walk and I walk, and suddenly I see a manly figure I recognize to be Condè's. No one not even I has seen him since two days ago when those Protestants attacked the castle. It's suspicious he left the festivities for his engagement with Claude.

I shake my head. He may be Protestant albeit he would not do that to Mary. I sense that he cares for her. Does she care for him? More than a friend? I shake my head again. I've gone crazy.

"Francis," he says a greeting takes a bow before me. I bow my head back.

"Louis," I say timidly.

He looks me up and down, then cocks his head to one side, as if knowing something was going on with me. "Something wrong?"

"No, nothing. However, Protestant men like yourself attacked the castle a couple days ago, and---" should I tell him what happened to Mary? No, of course not. Mary is my wife and what happened to her is our personal business. My cousin needn't be acknowledged about what happened. "Now, I want them caught and hanged. . And I want to quickly."

"Then I will help you. You have my word," he reassures me. I still stare at his eyes, not responding. He is Protestant. He can turn against the crown any time he wanted. And his brother Antoine, he will always be eager to have rise to the French throne. He has a strong claim on it. An undefeated grasp. "My loyalties are to you, Francis. You do know that?"

"I do, but you are also a Protestant," I say snakily.

He says nothing.

To change the topic, I say, "You left yours and Claude's festivities for your engagement. Why is that?"

"I needed time to think," he says humbly, not quite proud about his decision, or perhaps he is not quite confident about it. . .

"Think?" I let my interest become unmasked. "About what?" My brows furrow as I ponder.

"About who it is I want to spend my life with," he admits. All of a sudden, as he says this, the hair planted in my skin comes to a stand.

And who is it you want to spend your life with?

"Uh, nothing is wrong with your sister, Your Majesty. She is quite terrific," the ongoing of his voice is like decrescendo on a musical piece; at each word his voice gets lower and softer. . . "but another holds my heart, and I can't have her."

When Condè and I were out in the woods during the plague, he had told me that he tends to have mistresses every now and then.

I am curious now more than ever who this woman is he illicitly desires to be with. This time's different. I feel as though subconsciously and by-heart know who he wants to be with.

"Another mistress?" I can't help but ask.

"Yes."

"Are you eager to steal her from the man she is with?"

To my relief, his response is: "No."

"I think we shall get started on our schedule for today, Prince Condè."

"As you wish, My King," he replies. Though he was utterly brotherly and undeniably supportive towards me in the conversation, I can't help but rolling my eyes as I turn around and walk ahead of him.

Whoever it is you love, Louis, for the sake of our countries' alliance and loyalty, it better not be my wife. . . I'm not entirely sure if she will reject your affection.