The King's Wife

20

Ismay walked out onto the balcony, sipping on her ale. The sun was well into the sky, but there was still a chilly nip in the air. For the first time since the attack, she'd slept through the night, despite her nightmares. Ismay was hesitant to credit the full night's sleep to Gabriel just yet. The idea of him having such an effect on her was unsettling, but at the same time, it made her think more of what Gabriel has said about forging her own path.

Why should it be unsettling or wrong that he could comfort her when vulnerable? Were they not suppose to work and support each other? The more Ismay thought about it the more that system of rules and propriety seemed more and more hypocritical. Gabriel was right. It was time for her to discover her own path. One that gave her purpose, but felt honorable and right.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Elena asked, joining her on the balcony.

Ismay turned to her. "Yes, do you know or can you discover where my mother is being held?"

Elena's eyes widened. "Ismay—"

"I need to talk with her. There are things I must have answered before I can move forward."

"Perhaps you should go when Gabriel can be there with you."

"I must do this on my own, Elena. Please, tell me where is she?"

Elena frowned, watching Ismay for a moment. "She's in the cells. I-I'll show you the way."

"No need to worry. I merely wish to talk with her," Ismay told her as they left the room and through a maze of halls, but she knew enough of the castle to know they were near the rear part of the castle, the part embedded into the mountain.

"The queen wishes to speak with Queen Margaret," Elena said.

The guard eyed them both suspiciously. "I heard nothing about this."

"You're hearing it now. I'm the queen and I demand you let me pass or shall I tell the king of your treason?" The guard paled, nodded, and opened the thick wooden door. Ismay walked into the small room, pulling the door closed behind her. There wasn't much in the room. Only small, haphazardly made bed and a chamber pot that smelled as if it hadn't been changed in a while.

Seeing her, Margaret's eyes widened. "Ismay, you're..."

"Alive?" Ismay asked, lifting her chin and showing off the bruises on her neck. "While he gave a valiant effort, Rowan failed to take my life. Did you know of father's intentions when he agreed to my marriage with Gabriel?"

Her mother lifted her own chin and smooth out her wrinkled skirts. "Not until after it had already been agreed upon."

"All those lessons you and the others gave me, it was never about charming the king, was it?"

"It had to be done," her mother replied stiffly.

"Did it?" Ismay demanded with a scoff. "I am your daughter and yet you would allow him to force himself on me in such a way without so much as a warning of what was expected to occur."

"I was given no warnings when your father came for me and took me as he pleased, so why should you?" She scoffed at Ismay's look of horror. "Men, all men, are brutish savages by nature, Ismay. You would've learned this if your father hadn't overestimated the king's attachment to you. Clearly, he's not so enamored if he hasn't taken you to bed. A shame really. It was a good plan."

Rage filled Ismay to the point her hands started to shake. She hid them behind her back, refusing to let her mother see how much her words affected Ismay. "Yes, father's insatiable quest to become more powerful and influential than the king of Iber. All lost because the Darug king didn't give into his brutish, savage nature. So here we stand. What now? What will father do in the face of Rowan's failure? What does he expect of me?"