LUXURY • REIGN

XV. SUPPLICATION

She sat for a while as she and the water grew cold. She shivered in the position she'd held for an hour. The Princess had come to a decision, you see, that she would no longer allow herself to be so vulnerable, so easily subdued. Life at Court was too dangerous, and it would be foolish to continue believing someone would always come to save her when she needed it. From now on, she would be stronger. More cunning, less trusting. How did other royals approach handling these perils they so often faced?

It was time to take the matter of her engagement more seriously, from a political perspective. Should she and Francis marry, she would become Queen of France. Catherine would never be caught defenseless in her own chambers. She would always be one step ahead. She would be sure no one dared threaten her.

Greer and Kenna had come to her chambers, the former carefully detangling Annalise's hair while the latter lay in bed, petting a snoring Stirling. None of them had spoken much, the silence hanging in the air like an uncomfortable humidity. Anna and Greer made eye contact a handful of times in the vanity mirror, but neither of them had made any effort to fill the void. The Princess could feel everyone tiptoeing around her, holding her like a delicate teacup that may break. She hadn't realized that they had recognized the change in her disposition.

The two ladies met eyes, and the blonde spoke, "Has your sister mentioned anything about the latest prospect for alliance?" She inquired, offering a topic of discussion and a smile.

Annalise's eyes met her lap. "She'd mentioned it, but through all of the recent chaos, I've gone without the chance to speak to her about it again,"

A pause pulsed through the air as Greer combed through the Princess' soft curls. "There's a distant cousin of yours, Lord Darnley, who seems to be a promising match for Scotland. He's no Dauphin, but his claims lie with both the English and Scottish thrones."

The Princess summoned a clearly forced smile, nodding her head once slightly. "That is good for Mary, then." Greer had begun twisting her locks into braids around her head. Annalise raised a gentle hand, touching it to the blonde's and lowering it. "No braids today, please." She pulled her hair back, twisting it into a low bun. "Like this,"

Her dear friend pinned the bun into place, adorning her simple hairstyle with a small golden tiara. The sparkling metal complimented the gold trim on her dress, deep purple skirts pooling at her slipper-clad feet.

The same feet wandered down empty stone halls, fingertips trailing against the walls as she passed by them. Her thoughts trailed to the passages behind them and the ghosts that lurked within. It had been quite some time since her communication with Clarissa, she wondered if she'd hear from her again.

Annalise entered the library, an unexpected visitor thumbing through pages on the chaise by the hearth. "Bash," her fingertips found each other, twisting her rings against her fingers tentatively.

His lips pressed together in a thin line as he closed his book, gesturing for her to sit next to him. Hesitantly, she looked over her shoulder, they were alone. She followed his instruction, her eyes widening slightly when he took her hands in his.

"There is something I must tell you. Something you must hear from me and no one else." Clear blue eyes avoided hers, shifting from the ground to their hands clasped together.

A thumb grazed over his knuckles, his skin rough and calloused beneath hers. His shoulders relaxed. "Sebastian, what is it?" Her heartstrings tugged, her pulse quickened. Her voice was soft, but her tone urgent.