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A SICKLY, REPUGNANT memory resurfaced of the memory of one man's callousness. The very man who had given me life; bestowed my personage to me;
"Father..." I jolted to my feet, curtseying mindlessly at his presence, which only made him scoff. I promised myself I wouldn't launch with rage, and batted my eyelashes, "What are you doing here?"
"I warned you, my girl," Father spat, approaching the table where King Henry and I stood together with his feet dragging lazily behind him, "Henry, it is a pleasure to see you again. I must apologise for my nuisance Regent Queen."
"A pleasure to see you also, Your Grace. Rosalia has never been a nuisance in our court," Henry responded nonchalantly as he nodded at my father, although he wasn't particularly interested in him in the slightest. I wouldn't have been, either.
"Father, please," I whispered, approaching him with caution, my delicate fingers holding my dress as it curled around my body perfectly, "Warned me about what? Have you not received my letters?"
I lied. It might not have been ladylike, but I was far past the point of caring. It was simply the only way for him to have allowed me to continue to live at the French court. To not disrupt the life I'd spent what felt like an eternity to build. I deserved my place where it had been — my heart belonged to France. If Father would be as cruel to bestow the title to me, he would be cruel enough to snatch it away within moments.
"I have been writing you two letters a week for the last three weeks in hope you would respond, but never did."
Father paused, his eyes narrowing darkly as he analysed my face. My eyes ached with the desire to roll, but I clung to my dress to suppress it. I had become far too accustomed to lying to Father, but it was the best way to keep a mutual consensus.
Father sighed, and picked up my hand, and kissed it softly, "Apologies, Rosalia. Perhaps our couriers hadn't managed to bring your letters to Venice. I will dispose of him immediately."
I sighed, and feigned a delicate sorrow at the notion my letters hadn't arrived to him. I bowed my head as I gazed at the beads on my dress , "I used to the paper that Mother had sent me, I was hoping you'd enjoy the parchment this time. Now that you're here, shall I show you the grounds?"
I simply peeked over at Henry, to observe him as he was smirking at me, evidently understanding that I was lying, and manipulating Father. Of course, during my stay he'd attempted to craft me into the perfect manipulator, and here I was. Feeding him all the evidence he needed of the monster I could be. My father was a simple man who was handed the crown by birth right. He did not understand the density and the power to be held from politics, which was why I was acting as his Regent Queen — his laziness and immaturity had consistently gone unnoticed, but never by me.
