"What have the Bourbons been saying?" I held my breath in anticipation. I didn't understand how they could know what had really happened to Aleks, but if they knew...things would not end well.
"They're saying horrible things." Mary's gaze dropped to her fingers, tangled in her lap.
"Just tell me Mary. I need to know."
"Things about you." The blood drained from my face. "That you, you killed..." I swallowed uneasily, a sweat breaking out on the back of my neck, but I nodded for her to continue. "That you killed the King." My eyes widened in shock.
"What?"
"I know it's ridiculous," Mary shook her head, "You weren't even in France when he was injured. It was an accident." I was speechless. "They are saying you paid off Montgomery to kill him." Mary stood up and began pacing. "But everyone knows it was an accident. Montgomery was drunk. It was no one's fault."
Mary walked over to the table, and poured two large goblets of wine, handing one to me before taking a deep drink. I thanked her, but didn't take a sip. My mind was turning too fast.
"Where do they think they got their information?" I sighed heavily, taking a small sip.
"I'm not sure, Anya." She sat back down next to me. "But I know you didn't do it." I gave her a small smile.
"Thanks, Mary." Setting my cup down, I stood up. "I should go find Francis. Before he hears these rumors from someone else."
"Of course, Anya." I headed towards the door, but she called me back. "Anya, once you've been crowned, and I've taken my time to say my goodbyes, I will return to Scotland." I looked back at her. "It's been too long since I've seen my home."
"I hope one day I will be able to come visit. I've heard it's beautiful."
We nodded respectfully at each other and I took my leave.
The halls were fairly empty, as I headed towards the throne room, where I was sure to find Francis. A servant stopped me and told me that Antoine and Louis would most likely be leaving the next morning. They would return next week with the rest of the guests for the coronation. Wonderful. At least a temporary relief.
Things were as quiet as they could be in the throne room, but I was still met with a rather disturbing scene. Francis was sitting on his throne, an apparently bored expression on his face, though I could tell my the slight furrow of his brow that he was paying close attention to something.
And that something just happened to be the words that King Antoine was whispering in his ear. Perfect. The two of them looked up at my arrival, and a sickening smirk slipped over Antoine's face. Francis took a sip from the goblet in his hand.
Surreptitiously, Francis gestured for me to join the two of them. Quickly, I climbed up the two steps to the platform, and took my seat in my own throne.
"Thank you, Antoine. If I could have a private word with my wife," Francis dismissed him with a cold tone. Antoine nodded and left without an argument, but arrogance radiated off of him as he left the room. I glared at his back as the doors closed behind him.
"I know you would never pay off Montgomery to kill my father, but please tell me the first part is a lie too." He hissed at me.
"What?"
"Antoine says you orchestrated my father's entire demise. His illness, everything. I don't know how he even knew my father was ever ill, but it almost makes too much sense."
"Francis," I reached out to grab his hand.
"I know it sounds crazy, and I know you don't have it in your heart to kill someone," Francis stood up, and stalked out of the room.
Confusion clouded my mind. This had spun way out of control. How did Antoine know Henry was ill before he was killed? Why did he think that I did it? Why did he think I had killed Henry? I didn't. I suppose it lined up well enough. The French throne would never be mine without Henry gone. But...
But...
It all cleared in my mind, just as quickly as all reason had faded a moment earlier. Standing up, I followed Francis's footsteps towards his chambers, slightly hitching up my skirts in order to run faster.
The Bourbons wanted us gone. It would have been perfect.
As I flew around a corner, almost to my destination, I ran into Catherine.
"Anya! What are you doing?" She grabbed me by the arms and steadied me, before smoothing her hand over my hair and skirts to fix my appearance.
"I need to speak to Francis. It's important." I tried to side step her, but her grip held fast, and Catherine quickly turned me around and began leading me down the hall, away from Francis's chamber.
"Where are we going?" I asked, confused.
"Let's have a cup of tea, and chat. We haven't spoken comfortably in a while." I could tell she was trying to change the subject.
"The Bourbons are up to something." I tried to pull my arm away.
"Everyone is always up to something." She muttered, as she dragged me into her chambers, and snapped her fingers at the chambermaid to fetch a pot of tea.
"Is that why you've dragged me here? What are you up to, Catherine?" I huffed, in my chair. She sighed before settling heavily in the seat across from me.
"Fine, then Anya. What are the Bourbons up to?"
"They killed Henry." I said bluntly. "I know they did it. I just need proof." The door opened, and we both looked up. The maid scurried in, dropped the tea and left in a flash.
"Proof. What kind of proof?" Catherine asked, as she poured each of us a cup.
"I'm not sure. Letters, something, that they were poisoning Henry with. Or a bribe to Montgomery. To wound him at the joust."
"Take a deep breath, Anya. You're getting ahead of yourself."
"Catherine, do you understand. They are framing me for it!" I slammed my cup on to the table.
"Please, my darling girl, just take a deep breath. I will take care of it." She reached out, and gave my hands a comforting squeeze.
"You'll take care of it?"
"I have spies all over the castle, Anya. If anyone can get the proof we need to get the Bourbons out of Fontainebleau, it's me."
"I'm trusting you, Catherine."
"You'd be a fool not to."
YOU ARE READING
Morning Glory-Francis (Reign)
FanfictionHave faith that the sun will rise tomorrow. Anya Vavora, the Tsesarevna of Russia was forced to leave her home when she was seventeen years old. While hiding as a seamstress in French Court, "Anna," gets lost in a web of feelings, promises, arrangm...