The Widow

Chapter Sixteen: Deep Cut into Time

"How dare thee?!" The king was outraged, his face red, eyes dark with the need of blood, fingers balled into fist as he paced the the room. His voice was thick and deep, a beast inside him has awaken, one that was familiar to the young widow- one that she use to fear. "I will murder them all, one by one."

"Calm yourself, Dion, you're frightening us." Elizabeth voiced, her own voice thick from the sorrow and worry. "Please, sit down, we will figure it out."

King Dion obeyed his wife's soft demand by flopping down into his father's arm chair, he scratched the side of his chin while keeping his eyes on the coffee table. "My arrival to England was no secret, but to deliver the message so fast to others, I do not understand."

"Perhaps," Emelie eventually found her voice after being stunned from that night's misfortune and Dion's familiar rage. "The French man acted on his own and decided to attack with no plan or message. However, we must tread with caution, when were the last time one of you wrote to Talia?"

Elizabeth only paled with the thought of her own daughter in harms way. "I sent a letter this morning, hopefully she is well."

"Send another." Martha ordered, being the calmest of them all by drinking her warm tea with honey while sitting in the rocking chair near the window. Her gaze were out on the property, she memorized how the wind blew through the grass, and a torch in the stables looked like a glowing star. "The tempted assassination will spread fast, ease her mind before the news can settle."

"What shall happen to the assassin?" Although, the foolish assassin tempted to commit the most sinful crime, Emelie couldn't help but feel sympathy for the fellow. His passion for his country was noticeable, and the risk would be known as honorable amongst many men.

"He'll be hanging for his crimes." Dion spat, quite literally, his bodily fluid found it ways into his mother's flower pot.

"Were anyone injured?" The young woman continued in a timid voice. The room turned silent, no one dared to answer what they do not know. Emelie sighed heavily while standing to her steady feet. "I am going to retire for tonight, the event me that occurred has waned on me. Pledge of dreams."

"You, as well child." Martha was the only one to wish her a good night while the other adults continue to ponder about their own well-being.

The next morning consisted of more pondering, they all sat in Martha's dining room, eating poached eggs and drinking fresh squeezed oranges as of last night did not occur. Emelie tried her best not to go into her own pondering that became deeper and cruel. All through the night she could not rest, not for the assassin she sympathized or the small family she just gained back; but for the young general who saved King Dion from being stabbed.

The heroic act could make any girl weak in the knees, the strength and control, how fast he moved and the quick thinking he upheld. However, Emelie only saw him as foolish other than heroic, the soldier duties were an instinct, but she would of thought he'll tread with caution knowing Grais needed him. It made the young woman upset more than swooned.

"... Netherlands, it's decided."

Emelie stirred awake from her inner thoughts by blinking twice to get a hold of the conversation. King Dion has declared his next escape, the mention of her home made her anxious and confused. "Netherlands, that is the most dangerous place for you to allay your head. I do not mean to offend your majesty, however, the Dutch villagers holds the same amount of hatred with England and France."

"Why is that?"

"Well, they believe France initially started this war, and they love to place blame other than themselves. If you are to stay in Netherlands, it's best not to be so obvious in on presenting yourselves as royalty, a discreet profile is the best way to go on with your hiding."