The War of Queens

Chapter 4

Adrianne

 The sun was at its highest when the guard returned. She had sent him out some hours earlier but it was apparent that her son had learned from experience.

 Adrianne sat in the solar of her apartments surrounded by some of the highborn ladies as well as her three daughters. They all wore more fashionable clothing than the rest of the ladies, their hair twisted into complicated braids even though it was an ordinary day.

 Evelyn sat by the window, her fingers running over her stiches with delicate touches and artistic feel, creating intricate brocades and embroideries that the other ladies could only try to mimic. Helena wore a rich green dress and sat in the corner by herself, reading her book. Her hair was plain in colour and her skin was not as beautiful as her sister’s, but she had a thinner, more graceful face and an air of honesty about her. Beside her sat the youngest, Mary, with hair as black as coal and blue eyes. Her pale skin contrasted beautiful and her faint pink lips and cheeks reminded Adrianne of Constance.

 So they were all sitting in relative silence when the guard barged in. Adrianne put aside her work and made to stand up to tell the guard to be more considerate when she saw the reason why he had entered so violently.

 The guard’s arm was wrapped tightly around a figure that, by his movements, might as well be dead or at least fast asleep. He was muttering incomprehensible words of denial as he was dragged through the door. When the guard let go of him, he had to stand with spread legs for a moment, regaining his balance.

 “Lady mother,” Raynor slurred, eyes missing against the sharp light of the sun. “Your Grace.”

 Adrianne took in the sight of her son for a moment. His blue eyes seemed to be floating, unable to focus, his skin was sickly pale and his hair was slick with sweat. “Where were you tonight?”

 He chuckled, in his mind probably still in whatever brothel he had visited. “Where wasn’t I?” he responded rudely, causing several ladies to gasp.

 “Out,” Adrianne ordered, looking at everyone but her two oldest daughters. Mary left with a nervous glance back. She then turned her scolding eyes back to her son.

 “Some brothel or another,” he said. “Does it matter?”

 “Of course it matters,” Adrianne hissed. “You need to clean yourself up.”

 “Why?”

 “Stop being a child,” Evelyn cut in, staring at her twin brother. They looked little like each other; Raynor’s hair was a darker blonde with a red gleam to it, though their eyes were the same… at least when he was sober.

 “Why?” Raynor repeated, not sparing his sister a glance.

 “Because you’re the Prince,” Adrianne said, “and you let your own family see you like this, your own family and the entirety of the kingdom.”

 “I don’t care what they think,” he told her.

 “I do.” Adrianne’s voice was raised and she saw Raynor flinch backwards as a result. He clenched his eyes shut once, twice, before returning to reality. “I will not have you destroy our family’s name.”

 “More than it already is?” Raynor smirked horribly, something he had learned from his uncle, no doubts. “I was assuming you were going to add that to the end.”

 She ignored his words. “…by visiting every brothel in this city,” she finished.

 “Not just in this city.”