The Traitor's Daughter

Chapter Eight

Owen suddenly removed his hand from Elizabeth's and stepped away from her.

"Yes, well, you were frightened. I can't say I blame you," He replied in a tone that didn't sound so reassuring. The king refused to make eye contact with her.

She decided to be brave and ask.

"Where is Sir Richard?" She questioned quietly. The king looked up at her, then began to pace.

"Well, you see..." He trailed off, his mind lost in thought. He was afraid to tell Elizabeth the truth about Morton, although he knew he didn't need to. She was just a woman. She was nothing to be afraid of.

"Owen," Elizabeth said softly as she took a step towards the king. She placed a hand on his hair-covered cheek and smiled up at him, knowing that it would be enough to give him the courage he needed.

The king looked into Elizabeth's knowing gaze, then looked over her shoulder and sighed.

Without looking at her, he said, "He's back in the palace, going about his business."

Elizabeth's hand slid off of the king's cheek, and she turned away from him, pretending to be more angry than she felt. She knew the king wouldn't keep his trusted companion locked away forever. It would have been far too easy. But she had to at least act the part. If she was angry, the king would do anything to get her to be happy with him again.

She raised a hand up to her mouth and bit down on her thumb nail and paced around a bit, while the king began to explain.

"I spoke with him and he says that he had had too much to drink last night and he will apologize. He won't do anything to harm you again."

Elizabeth stopped pacing and spun around quickly to face the king.

"You don't understand, do you?" She asked angrily. The king reached his hands out to her, his expression helpless.

"Help me to understand," He said sweetly.

"I don't want him anywhere near me. And frankly, I don't believe a word he says. He wasn't intoxicated last night. He had every intention of harming me."

Owen stared at her for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Who was he to trust?

"Sweetheart-"

Elizabeth glared at the king and clenched her fists at her sides.

"For the love of God, don't 'sweetheart,' me."

The king's jaw clenched and unclenched, and she could tell that he was getting frustrated with her, but he did an excellent job of hiding it. The king was known for his silent anger, unless he was truly furious. If a courtier did something to make the king furious, he'd act out in a fit of rage and destroy nearly everything in his path. Most people at the brunt of his anger happened to either be stripped of their lands and titles, or lost their heads, which was a common punishment for angering Owen. People at court tiptoed around the king to ensure that they would always be in his good graces.

"If it pleases you, I'll place guards outside your door and they can follow you wherever you go. I won't have you feeling unsafe in the place that you're calling home."

She stared at the king as if he were stupid, then poured herself a cup of wine. She conveniently forgot to ask the king if he wanted any. She cruelly made him wait for her response as she took a long drink of the chilled liquid. Finally, she turned her cold gaze towards him again.

"I'd rather return to my true home where I'd be safe, than stay here only to be followed by your pathetic excuses for guards." Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest, careful not to spill any of the wine on her white nightgown.