Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Forty-Two

After sharing several more kisses, Francis stayed in my room, and the two of us talked for hours and hours. I had wrapped my dressing robe around my body, in order to better hide the bandages around my waist. Francis didn't ask about them.

He told me about Mary's brief courtship of the bastard son of Portugal. While I was disappointed to hear that Mary was still at French court, I wouldn't have wanted her married to someone with ill intentions towards Scotland or France.

Francis briefly mentioned that a woman named Olivia was in court as well. I stiffened when he mentioned that the two of them used to be romantically involved. But I relaxed considerably, when I learned that Catherine was manipulating her to work as a deterrent for Mary and not an opponent for me. I also learned about Bash's ongoing conflict with the pagans in the forest, and that Kenna, Mary's lady, had become King Henry's mistress. At the mention of Henry, I was reminded of my dream, where Francis had already taken the place of his father as the King of France.

"What's wrong?" Francis asked, pulling me closer to him. The two of us were lain out on a chaise lounge, near the fireplace where we had stirred awake the dying embers. He must have caught the look on my face.

"It's nothing, Francis." I said, running a hand over his cheek. "Just remembering a dream I had." He still looked concerned. "Don't worry about it Francis. It's nothing that could hurt me now." I reached up to give him a soft kiss.

Later, I couldn't help but shed a tear as I recounted Dmitri's betrayal, and his execution. I got up from our seat and dug through the pocket of the gown I had worn that day. Pulling out the folded piece of paper, I handed it to Francis before sitting back down again next to him.

Francis unfolded it and studied it for a minute, turning it over in his hands, before tossed it onto the table next to us. Then he turned to me, and took my face in his hands, giving me a long deep kiss.

"I love you, Morning Glory." He whispered against me, and I couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through my body.

"More than my own life." I whispered back.

"I should go." Francis sat up slowly from the chaise. "An Italian count is coming tomorrow. We don't need rumors circulating." He pressed a kiss onto my hairline.

"Alright." I stood up, and walked slowly back to bed.

"I'll see you in a few hours, my Morning Glory." Francis said with a smile before closing the door behind him quietly.

My ladies were a blessing, and didn't question why I looked so tired when they came to help me dress the next morning. They just chatted, me adding something to the conversation occasionally, but they didn't ask me anything as they rewrapped my side and dressed me in a more casual gown to allow for me forgoing a corset. My side was more tender than usual after splitting open the thin scab that had formed over the cut yesterday.

Catherine greeted me warmly at breakfast and apologized that Henry wasn't there to welcome me back. He had set out the day before with a small army to quell an unrest among the peasants.

Mary wasn't as friendly, but she was cordial. Francis wasn't there yet when I arrived, but there was a blonde girl, who I didn't recognized. I figured she must be Olivia, Francis' old fling, when she kept glancing at me anxiously and then back at Catherine.

"I don't believe we've met." I said to her, across the table.

"I am Olivia, Your Majesty. I am staying here at court until I can find a place among a noble family to stay." She explained, nervously, bowing her head.

"I am pleased to meet you, Olivia." I nodded my own head, accepting her respect. She quickly fell back into an unassuming posture, caving her shoulders down over her breakfast.

"It's nice to have you back at court, Anya." Mary began a new conversation. "You were gone for quite a long time." She took a long sip out of her glass.

"War is not a short affair." I answered shortly, setting down my knife as I felt a roll of pain in my side.

"Still, I am sure you are proud of yourself for defeating Poland and Sweden." Mary said over her goblet, sending me a sickly smile.

"I am not proud of myself for leaving my country at the hands of those who would throw her into war." I used a warning tone, hoping Mary would get the hint that I was not in the mood to discuss politics with her. Not over breakfast.

"Careful Anya, or people might think you don't possess the will to rule a country as vast as Russia." Mary hissed.

I stood up in a jerk, hissing myself, partially out of anger, partially out of pain, and slammed my hands down on the table, staring down Mary. She looked both slightly startled and slightly proud of herself. I scolded myself silently for losing my temper, but I couldn't back down now.

"At least I don't leave my mother to rule my country while I play princess across the Channel." I spat at Mary across the table. A small bit of satisfaction rose in my gut when her face flushed red and she stood up from her chair too. "I know I've made mistakes, but don't pretend you're any better than I am." I said before she could argue back. "You're nothing more than a figurehead for your mother's rule." With that, I shoved my chair back and stalked away from the table.

When the footman opened the door to the corridor, I was surprised to see Francis standing there. Still, I didn't let myself be thrown off too far, and continued to walk forward, brushing past Francis. To assure him that I wasn't upset with him, I grabbed his hand and gave it a microscopic squeeze as I passed him.

Francis looked back at me, mildly confused, but shrugged it off, turning back to the breakfast hall, allowing me to finish my dramatic exit. Once I made it safely into the hallway with the door closed behind me, I quickly walked over to a window seat, slumping down in it.

After glancing up and down the hallway to make sure I was alone, I jammed a few fingers up the bottom of my loose fitting bodice, grazing them over the wound on my side. I grimaced at the pain, already able to tell I had bled through the bandages, from the dampness of the fabric.

My suspicions were confirmed when the tips of my fingers were tinged red with blood when I removed my hand from my dress.