The War of Queens

Chapter 20

Raynor

 Raynor did not look back when he walked away from Christian and Evelyn the night before the sun vanished. He was too angry to look back and see them bathe in each other’s comfort, too angry and too alone.

 “Brother,” a voice called out to him. From a small corridor, Mary emerged. Her dress was a moss green with pearls hanging from the bodice. She always wore such dark colours, as if she expected nothing but darkness from life - but her face glowed with a pale light and her dark blue eyes shone. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing for you to worry yourself with.”

 She smiled as she stepped forwards. Her face was sweet and round, but more womanly features were beginning to emerge. He hated that. He wished she could stay young and sweet forever. Life will destroy her too, I imagine, he thought to himself bitterly.

 She sighed. “You look so stressed.”

 “How can I not be?”

 “You’re the younger brother,” she reminded him. Her voice was clear and light, yet soft. “You are relieved from the power and the riches, but the responsibility as well.”

 “Our father was poisoned,” he muttered, “and…”

 She tiled her head. “And what?”

 “Nothing.”

 The look of disappointment on her face was too familiar. “I don’t like it when you keep things from me.”

 He thought of what she would think if he told her about their dear siblings. The thought amused him for a second. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, keeping the laughter out of his voice.

 “Have you been to see father recently?” she asked.

 “No.”

 “Would you like to?”

 He nodded, and she held out her hand. Their arms entangled as he led her to the chambers of their father in the King’s tower. They found their father fast asleep, calm for once, but beneath his closed lids his eyes moved uneasily. While Mary sat down on the bedside, taking the King’s hand in her own, Raynor stood back with his hands clasped behind his back.

 “He looks peaceful,” he commented.

 “I wish I could believe that,” Mary replied, leaning over to kiss their father’s forehead. “But kings can never rest easy.” She twisted her body so that she was facing him and held out her hand. “Come closer.”

 He stepped forward, letting her clasp her fingers around his as he sat down on the bed. “How often do you visit him?"

 She smiled, though it was not a happy smile, and began stroking Raphael’s hair. “Every day, once or twice.”

 “How can you stand it? Seeing him like this?”

 She looked up at him. Her pale eyes glistened in the light and her face was frozen in that smile. “I can stand it because every time I think of how terrible it feels, I instead think of how terrible it would feel if he passed away one night and I had not been here to say goodbye.”

 He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m brave enough to consider the possibility that I might need to say goodbye.”

 She leaned towards him, giving his hand a reassuring clench. “I’ll say goodbye for you,” she said before turning back towards their father.

 Suddenly, a flash of bright light lighted the room. Mary looked up to the window. “What was that?”

 “A lightning, I think,” he answered.