𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡'𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗡 || 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻

1

One last harsh tug, and the gown was fully laced up.

Grace had always had trouble deciphering how her mother felt, every frustration easily hidden by a mask of cold indifference. Now, she could finally see some kind of emotion from her mother. The heavy rise and fall of her chest accompanied by her rigid shoulders were telltale signs of anger, and that was far more than she usually showed at all. Her mother must've been very angry to lose herself in such a way. And then she saw the single tear that ran down her mother's pearlescent face in the reflection of the mirror.

That made Grace uneasy. If her mother was crying, something was definitely wrong. Swallowing her feelings of angst, she turned around to face her mother. And truly, she was crying, though she tried to wipe it away before Grace saw. Too late, she thought, but she wouldn't tell that to her mother.

Katherine looked over her daughter. Slowly, she reached out and fixed the slightly offset necklace so it was perfectly centered between her collarbones. The ruby encrusted in gold sparkled even in the dim light of March. Then, Katherine gave Grace a smile, and it was perhaps the least convincing facade her mother had ever worn.

"Your father and the Duke are waiting," Katherine sighed, turning towards the door. Grace took her mother's hand as they walked down the halls of the palace, passersby turning to look at them. There was not much pity in those gazes, but some of them still looked a little disturbed. The King was giving away his only daughter. To the enemy at that. Even if they looked down at Grace herself for her status as a bastard, she was still a child, and a child needed protection.

When Grace stepped outside, she swore the smallest bit of weight got lifted off of her shoulders. She had imagined the Duke of York as a tall, overly muscular man that had monstrous tentacles coming out of his ears and nose, sharp long fangs instead of teeth and claws of a bear that could tear her apart. What any eight-year-old would think of when told about their enemy. But the Duke was the complete opposite. Yes, he was tall—slightly taller than her father— and yes, he was muscular, but it was the kind of muscle any man who rode horses, shot bows, and fought in wars would have. His face had a few wrinkles and scars – scars he must've gotten in battle – but they were already fading.

The man looked stern, but he certainly didn't look as though he would snap her spine in half. And for that Grace was glad.

"Here she is, my beautiful daughter Grace," King Henry said as he looked in the direction of his mistress and their daughter. He smiled pleasantly at them. He reached his hand out, helping Grace down the steps and towards the Duke.

"Your grace," she said as she curtsied as elegantly as she could. She did not wish to make the Duke angry. His pale blue eyes raked over her, scouring every inch of her body as if looking for something. And then he looked away, and Grace was left staring at the side of his pale face. Relief flooded through her, though she was still a little on edge. The Duke's black hair swayed as he jerked his head towards the carriage that was waiting for Grace.

"Let us go," he commanded as he swiftly turned and walked to his horse, mounting it without even checking if Grace was following. The girl turned to her mother. Katherine's eyes were once again filled with tears, though they did not fall this time. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Grace's forehead. When she pulled away, she tried to give her daughter a smile. If it was meant to be comforting, then it had the opposite effect. Katherine looked like she was about to walk to her own execution.

"You are the daughter of the King of England. Don't let anyone treat you otherwise," she muttered into Grace's ear, making sure Henry didn't hear. And then she quickly stepped back, smoothing out her skirt and quickly wiping her eyes. Don't let anyone treat you otherwise, Grace had to wonder how the Duke would treat her when they reached his residence at Ludlow Castle. Despite her having the blood of the King circulating in her veins, she was still viewed as lesser than even a lowborn knight at times. Grace sometimes wondered if she had been born a boy, would the nobles of her father's court not sneer at her as much as they did now.