Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)

Chapter Eighty-Three

I felt better the next morning. My heart was still heavy, but I was able to see past it, at least for a little while, and return to my normal activities at court, even if it was only for a few hours. It seemed I would have to accept the somewhat permanent changes, or at least long term temporary alterations.

When Francis and I left my chambers that morning, after he had spent the night, I didn't anticipate the volume of glares I would receive from the visiting women. They shouldn't be surprised Francis spent the night with his wife. Me. 

Originally I was offended by the glares, and somewhat embarrassed that the entire court cared so much about how Francis spent his evenings, but later in the afternoon, I held my head high against their looks. If they couldn't accept that Francis loved me, then that was their problem. I couldn't take responsibility for their unhappiness as my relationship with my husband.

While that attitude helped mitigate my discomfort, it didn't prepare me for the whispers. I had only been back a day, and the rumors among the infestation of whores had already grown to monstrous detail.

"I hear she's unwomanly."

"She'll never bare a proper heir for France."

"Eventually, the King will have to accept the reality."

"Maybe then he'll bed one of us instead."

"I could give him a son."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned. What if my wound had stolen my ability to bear children? Maybe I should accept Catherine's potions? What if they could help?

It definitely didn't help that I could tell Francis was worried too. He rarely left my side, and was cold to most of the visitors, especially those whose eyes lingered on my midsection for too long. The two of us were sitting in the throne room, though we were not yet crowned the King and Queen, we were acting as such.

A courier approached and bowed. Francis gestured for him to speak.

"Tomorrow King Antoine of Navarre will be arriving in court. He wishes to congratulate the new king." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Francis tense. I had heard of King Antoine, though mostly of his extravagantly scandalous parties, and not much of his politics. I'm sure he will enjoy the vast number of young unmarried women who are plaguing my courts. Perhaps if he is ungentlemanly enough, he will drive them from my home. That would be most appreciated.

The courier bowed and took his leave. As soon as normal conversation had arisen again, Francis turned to me.

"Stay away from Antoine when he gets here."

"Alright, but why?" I trusted Francis, but I wanted to know what his motive was.
"I don't trust him here. He's a Bourbon. They have a claim to the throne here."

"Not as strong as the Valois family."

"Still," Francis growled, reaching over to grab my hand, "a competitor welcoming himself into our court with barely any warning does not bode well." He paused for a minute. "We don't know what his intentions are, and we don't know what he thinks he has over us."

My stomach dropped at his words. I don't know how it would be possible, but what if Antoine knew what I had done to Aleks? Ordering Dmitri's execution was one thing, but poisoning my little baby brother was completely another. Even if Aleks had begged me to do it.

"Maybe his intentions are honest. He really wants to congratulate you." I whispered, more to myself than to Francis.

"Either way, we should be on our guard." I was confused as to why Francis thought Antoine might know something. What could Francis be hiding? I didn't tell him about Aleks to protect him, but Francis didn't have anything to hide from me, right?

"I will go oversee the preparations." I stood up from my throne, nodding to Francis. He nodded in return, and I quickly left the throne room, gesturing for a few servants to follow me.

Out in the hallway, I quietly gave instructions to each of them and sent them off on their way. It didn't really take that long to prepare for only a few guests, but I wanted to escape from the throne room. It wasn't that I didn't want to be near Francis, but the room was still full of those whores.

They had some decency to not dwell too closely to Francis's throne now that I was seated right next to him, but I didn't miss the looks they sent him, and I most definitely could still smell their heavy perfume.

It seemed, however, sanctuary wasn't to be found in the corridors. There were just as many women milling about, chatting up against windows and wandering the halls. And once I was out in the open, away from the protective arms of my husband, I was an open target. For glares and otherwise.

I tried to create an invisible perimeter around myself, to keep the vultures at bay, but I could still feel their gazes on my back, and their words in my ears.

"Your Majesty," a voice called behind me, stilling my footsteps. A wave of anger passed through me. It was bad enough these girls were living in my home, trying to lure my husband into their beds, but one of them had the audacity to address me?

As I slowly turned to see who had spoken, I realized the entire hall had fallen silent. They were all looking to see what would happen to the one of their flock who had chosen to speak to me.

She was about the age I had been when I had fled my home, had strawberry blonde hair, and clear green eyes.

Not speaking, I pressed my lips together, waiting for her to speak. The girl flushed, obviously embarrassed at my obvious annoyance.

"Your Majesty, I apologize," she ducked her head. "I wanted to express my condolences for the loss of your brother, the Tsarevich."

"Thank you. What is your name?" I asked quietly.

"Georgina, Your Majesty."

"Georgina, walk with me, please." I turned and continued walking down the hallway towards my chambers. Behind me I heard Georgina's footsteps pick up as she hurried to catch up.