When a maid of honor to the Queen is rescued by a handsome and contentious pirate, she has to spend three days aboard his ship before returning to court. But is three days time long enough to truly get to know someone? And is English court as diffic...
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Curtains were drawn back by servants and sunlight poured into the room, burning Celia and Beatrice's sleepy eyes as they awoke. Sluggish and fatigued, Celia flung her feet over the side of her bed and forced herself to stand. She padded across the cold floor, the cool temperature of the marble prickling her bare feet, and dipped her hands into the water basin. She sloshed it on her face and neck, and patted her skin dry with a clean towel.
In the midst of her morning rituals, the note she had written Harry had slipped her mind. Little did she know, as she plunged earrings into the lobes of her ears, a servant swiped the letter from the table and tucked it safely into her apron pocket, never to reach the hands of Harry.
♛
Celia kissed her sister on the cheek and held her tight. Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision as she squeezed Isabel's waist. "I love you. Write to me as often as you can," she said.
"Of course," Isabel replied softly, tears stinging her eyes as well.
When they finally let go, Celia walked over to James, who was waiting by the carriage. "Take care of her," she said to him.
He nodded with a small smile. "I'd do anything for her," he said, glancing over to Isabel. His smile grew as he watched his wife say goodbye to Beatrice, her blonde hair blowing in the wind and her blue eyes popping against her pink gown. James looked back at Celia with sad eyes. "Don't do anything stupid," he warned, causing Celia to laugh. "Our door is always open to you, sister."
Celia smiled at his words; she had always wanted a brother. "Thank you."
Watching the carriage drive away was painful, but Celia endured. She held onto Beatrice's arm as she blinked away her final tears before re-entering the palace. Once inside, she was immediately stopped by a guard.
"Mistress Celia," he said firmly.
Beatrice looked at Celia with concern, her grip on Celia's arm tightening. Celia swallowed her fear and licked her lips before speaking.
"Yes?"
"The Queen demands your presence in the throne room."
"We were just on our way there," Beatrice interjected.
"Alone," the guard boomed.
Celia dropped Beatrice's arm. "May I ask why?"
"She gave no specifics."
Celia sighed. She followed behind the unfamiliar guard in silence, leaving Beatrice baffled and alone in the middle of the empty hallway. They turned a corner, but Celia glanced back just before they disappeared out of view and sent Beatrice a look of dismay. Beatrice immediately took off and began her search for Harry.
As they neared the throne room, Celia's mouth went dry. It felt as if she had swallowed a handful of sand and it had taken all of the moisture from her tongue, creating a desert in her mouth. She swallowed several times in an attempt to create moisture, but it was no use.
The overly ornate wooden doors that separated Celia from her fate loomed over her. She waited for the guards that stood on either side of the doors to open them, keeping her head straight and glueing her eyes to the wood. A creak sounded as the doors opened, revealing Elizabeth atop her throne in the distance.
Celia's chest rose and fell, each breath she took becoming harder to inhale, as she walked across the never-ending marble floor. With every step, Elizabeth grew larger, her features easier to make out. Her faint brows were stiff, her lips hardened into a thin line, and jaw clenched. The dark brown eyes that appeared somewhat sunken into her pale face were glowering, staring directly into Celia's bright blue eyes with power.
Finally reaching the throne, Celia stooped into a curtsey, her knees grazing the floor and eyes lowered away from the Queen.
"You sent for me, your Majesty?" Celia dared to ask, remaining in her position.
"Rise, Celia," Elizabeth said plainly.
She did as the Queen bid, flashing her eyes upward to meet the dark pools that were fixed on her. Her breathing had slowed, as did her heart rate.
"Do you think me to be a fool?"
"Of course not, your Grace—"
"Shut up!" Elizabeth screamed. Celia slowly closed her mouth, stitching her lips together and averting her gaze from the Queen. "How dare you?" Elizabeth stood from her throne and walked towards Celia, standing in front of her. "How dare you go behind my back after all that I've done for you?"
"Your Majesty—"
Elizabeth lifted her hand and flung it forward with full force. The crack of her hand coming in contact with Celia's cheek echoed in the spacious, empty room. Pulses of pain spread from Celia's cheek across her face like a spiderweb. She brought her hand to her throbbing cheek, her eyes as wide as her gaping mouth.
Elizabeth's face showed no remorse. She knitted her brows together and jutted out her chin.
Celia thought it was over, at least the physical aspect of the argument, but she was proved wrong as Elizabeth lunged for the strip of leather around her neck. Her nails scathed Celia's skin, causing Celia to wince, as she yanked the leather off of her neck. As the strip snapped in half, the silver ring came clattering to the ground.
Elizabeth snatched it up and held it in her palm for Celia to look at. "Lady Styles," she snarled.
Celia said nothing.
"What do you have to say for yourself? You ungrateful strumpet!"
"I love him."
Elizabeth began to cackle uncontrollably. She tossed her head back and threw the ring against the floor. It slid across the glossy surface until it hit the wall across the room. Celia watched Elizabeth with furrowed brows, terrified of what she would do next.
Elizabeth slowed her laughter to a small chuckle. "You say young Beatrice Smith was a fool for the romantics, yet look at you! Look at what you've done to yourself!" She whirled around and stalked back to her throne where she plucked a folded piece of parchment from the arm of the chair. She waved it in the air in front of her and smirked.
Celia knew what it was straight away. "How did you get that?" she raised her voice and staggered forward.
Elizabeth threw the letter onto the ground and Celia picked it up, holding it close to her stomach. "I am the Queen of England. You dare to question my abilities? Well, Lady Styles, allow me show you what I am capable of."
Celia parted her lips with confusion and dropped her hands to her sides.
"Guards!" Elizabeth shouted. Two guards busted through the doors with vigor. "Arrest this woman."
