Seven | h.s

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White flakes fell from the sky, covering the ground in a sheet of snow. It came down so quickly and in such large amounts that Beth had to squint to see through the wall of white. As if that wasn't enough to hinder her vision, the low temperature of the air stung her eyes, causing tears to multiply within them. Everything seemed a blur, but she pushed on, cracking the reins and holding on tight as the horse picked up its speed.

Finally, she reached the town and pulled back on the reins, the horse slowing to a trot. She had never seen the town at night, only on the rare occasion of a festival would the Princess and her ladies venture there. Her eyes drank in every detail that she could make out in the darkness; the houses and shops that lined the cobblestone road, the half-dressed women lurking in the shadows, beggars curled up for warmth under awnings of buildings. Beth pulled the hood of her cloak further over her head, averting her eyes from prodding gazes as she looked forward. Then, at the end of the lane, she spotted the inn.

When she arrived at the stoop of the building, she dismounted her horse and walked it to the back, then tying the reins up at a post where other visitors' horses were left. She patted the horse's snout gently before walking back around to the front of the inn and knocking on the door. After a moment of silence, an elderly woman came to the door, silver hair framing her kind face.

"We're full," she said flatly.

Beth furrowed her brows, as her judgement of the woman's character was apparently wrong. "I seek a man boarding here by the name of Andrew Willoughby," she explained. The woman didn't seem convinced. She narrowed her eyes, and looked Beth up and down. "Please, it is a matter of great urgency."

"Fine." The woman sighed and stepped aside, opening the door further to allow Beth to enter. "Señor Willoughby, you said?"

"Yes," she replied, closing the door. "Thank you, señora." She let down her hood and rubbed her hands together for warmth as she looked around the inn. It was quaint, nothing like the palace nor her home in England, but it was a warm place to stay, and she found it to be far more inviting than the cold. A creak from behind her caused Beth to turn around to find the woman climbing the stairs. Beth hurried over to the stairs and began to climb them, catching up to her.

The woman stopped and looked over her shoulder at Beth. "I will bring him downstairs."

"This conversation must be private. I will see him in his room," Beth replied.

The woman sighed heavily and returned to climbing the stairs. As they reached the top, the woman pointed down the corridor. "Last room on the left."

"Thank you," Beth said.

She began to walk along the corridor, squeezing her hands together nervously. When she reached Andrew's door, she inhaled slowly, and knocked gently. She could hear shuffling from the other side of the door and grew anxious, but it suddenly stopped. She leaned in closer, hoping to hear better, and jumped with fright as the door opened. After sucking in a sharp breath, she stood upright and placed a hand over her heat as she looked up at Andrew, who stood in the doorway with a confused look upon his face.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, his brows furrowed. He lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"

"Andrew, something terrible has happened."

———

With his elbows resting on his desk and his head cradled in his palms, Felipe looked down at the three squares of cloth with contempt. He chewed on his lower lip, shaking his head as his eyes dashed back and forth between the red-stitched words. Pride, greed, sloth. He wondered which of the sins would be next.

The door to the presence chamber was thrust open to reveal Lady Cameros, her hands in fists by her sides and tears streaming down her cheeks. She stepped into the room, a guard suddenly appearing behind her.

"Your Majesty, I tried—"

"Leave us," Felipe said to him.

The guard bowed his head and closed the door, leaving the widow alone with the King. Felipe quickly swiped the pieces of cloth off of the surface of his desk and stuffed them into a drawer, out of Lady Cameros's sight. "I'm sorry I could not offer you my condolences sooner, Lady Cameros. But, I am glad you made the effort to come by in such a dark time."

"You will find who did this, won't you, your Majesty?" Lady Cameros asked, her voice as unstable as a flower in strong winds. It wavered, sounding as if she would burst into tears at any moment. She sniffled.

Felipe stood up from his seat and walked around his desk, meeting Lady Cameros in the middle of the room. "Of course. But, my lady, in such a time you should be at home, especially since it was your husband and daughter who were the victims. I do not want you in harm's way. So, I have arranged for a driver to transport you home."

"But—"

"I wish I had more time to discuss this, but I really must get back to work." Felipe ushered Lady Cameros across the room and gripped the knob of the door. Before pulling it open, he paused to look down at her. "I will find who did this, my lady. You have my word."

———

Magdalena straightened the bodice of gown and smoothed out its skirts while Harry buttoned his trousers. Her hair had fallen from its braided bun and cascaded over her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the wavy strands and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, hoping to conceal her disheveled appearance.

Harry smirked, noticing how her cheeks were flushed and brows moist with perspiration. He enjoyed the fact that it was his doing. "Was it as you imagined it would be?" he asked.

She looked up at him and gave a small shake of her head. "Better," she said with a smile.

He stepped closer, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her body into his chest. He pressed his lips against her forehead, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her ear. "There is going to be a play tomorrow night. Take the Duke on a tour of the stage before the performance and leave the rest to me."

She pulled back, looking up at him. "Harry, are you sure about this?"

"It is God's will."

———

"Has the King ordered an investigation?" Andrew asked.

Beth sat beside him on the edge of his bed. The room in which he was staying was small, with a single window overlooking the main road of the town positioned adjacent to the bed. Beth imagined this room was similar to Andrew's room in the cottage on the corner of her family's property in England. Perhaps his wife had spruced it up, though, with some flowers and curtains. She pushed the thought from her mind and nodded in response to his question. "I think so," she said. "He told me to lock my door tonight." She turned her head and looked up at Andrew. "It frightens me, Andrew. It isn't safe there and the King is more concerned with securing Magdalena's engagement to the Duke of Linares."

Andrew gave her a sad look; it pained him to see her in such a state. He rested a hand upon her own and gave it a light squeeze. Her eyes lit up at his touch and a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. At that sight, he pulled his hand away and stood to his feet, walking across the room to the door. "It is late, Lady Elizabeth." Beth's lips fell open, her brows pulling together. "You should go."

"It's nearly midnight, I cannot ride this late alone." He opened the door and gestured for her to leave. She closed her mouth and gritted her teeth together. Swiping her cloak from the foot of the bed, she stalked across the room and stopped before walking through the threshold, staring into his eyes. "I hope she's worth it."

"What did you expect to gain from coming here, Elizabeth?" he asked.

"Comfort from an old friend." She turned to leave, but then stopped. "I could die tonight in that palace. No one is safe, not even the King himself."

His eyes softened. "The rooms here aren't expensive, I can pay for your board for the night."

"That won't be necessary, all of the rooms are taken," she said through her teeth. "Goodbye, Andrew."