A beating heart

Chapter 23

„Your Majesty" her guards bowed as she entered her chambers.

Her maids and Anne's nanny were trailing closely behind her. It was a good day and her cheeks were still flushed from the cool morning air. Her morning walks had become a daily ritual and Kenna would always keep her company in these lonely early hours.

„The princess Anne." the nanny bowed before handing the peacefully sleeping child to her.

She was still too small to take her out into the cold to often and Mary relished the moment she would hold her in her arms again. Her round face was so relaxed and her eyes were closed.

Mary moved towards one of her dressing tables, intending to put down the flowers she had picked in the gardens. They were so colourful, a deep blue and shades of yellow and red as she inspected them in her hand. Anne would love them, the child had developed a certain fascination for flowers.

But just when she let the flowers glide onto the polished wood of the table, she stilled in her movement. Something was different, she wasn't yet sure what exactly, but the feeling made the thin hairs on her arms stand. There was something here that most definitely hadn't been in her room when she had woken.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in the sizable bouquet of wild flowers in her favorite white porcelain vase. They were beautiful, absolutely breathtaking but at the same time she felt a shiver run down her spine at the sight of them. Her maids would have never dared to put them in here without asking permission, let alone in the delicate white vase.

Her heart stopped when her eyes fell on the folded parchment in the bouquet's shadow. Despite the distance, she instantly recognized the handwriting.

„Leave me." the servants looked at her in confusion for a moment, but nonetheless silently obeyed her command.

When the last had shuffled out of the room and the heavy doors had fallen closed she allowed herself to breath out again. She could feel her mind starting to spin and decided it better to set Anne down in her crib.

She swallowed before reaching for the letter with a shaking hand. It weighed heavy in her palm and she dreaded it's content.

‚Mary' was written on the front in long and curved letters. The black inc was a distinct contrast to the pale paper underneath.

She could feel her blood pulsing through her veins as she instinctively clutched the letter to her chest right above the spot where her heart rested. It was a way of compensating his absence, she told herself.

Touching the smooth paper couldn't come close to actually feeling his skin against hers but it was all she had of him in that moment. It had been him, who had written out her name in long, and beautiful strokes and his fingers, who had folded the paper at a perfect angle.

In her mind she relished the idea of holding a piece of him in her own hands. Even his scent, so distinctly familiar to her body and mind, still faintly lingered on the paper. Maybe he had carried it under his doublet bringing it here.

She hadn't actually thought of that yet, her heart to lost in the sentiment of it, but how had the flowers and his letter gotten here? Surely her servants would have never allowed it inside. They were under strict instructions to not allow him anywhere near her chambers and she trusted them, fully.

Her eyes searched the room for any indications of an intruder and got caught on the spot on her back wall, where she knew the secret door to the passage ways was hiding. No, he wouldn't have actually dared to enter her rooms, would he? Her head was suddenly very heavy with the thought of him having been in this room. But how else could he have gotten the things in here?