Edmund left for Lecarre a week after our last encounter, and my brother Gilbert went along with him. I was more worried about my twin rather than my betrothed, since I knew that Edmund had years of military experience and was tutored by some of the best swordsmen in the realm. My brother, however, was taught in the arts of politics and finance by my father, and we were visited by multiple teachers in the past who taught us foreign languages and music.
Although Gilbert wasn't entirely oblivious to the horrors of the battlefield, I was certain than he would not handle it well. The knight who trained him had called a wimp, and the kind old archer who taught us both archery had said that he never saw someone with such a bad aim. I was deathly worried about him, and I worried that this war might take him away from me. Each day, I watch the king dilly-dallying with his multiple mistresses and down bottles of fine wine, while our soldiers were out in battle. I think of the poor Lecarrians, whose positions would soon be in jeopardy because of the greed of two mindless people, King Edward, and Antonin du Terre, the king of Terrawyn. Young men were forced to don armor and venture into the vast battlefield, while their mothers and wives struggle to make ends meet, praying for their beloveds to return home alive and intact. And here, I see the cause of all their misery, happily coddling between the thighs of a whore.
For the first two months, I heard nothing from Edmund, although news spread that our forces had captured the westernmost regions of Lecarre. The kingdom itself was full of vast plains and deserts, without any landmark in sight. Lecarre was larger than both Terrawyn and Phoenicia combined, but a vast majority of Lecarrians live in their own clans, detached from the rest of society, while power struggle brewed in the capital. It would be easy to invade them, but our soldiers, who grew up on the warm, fertile lands of Phoenicia were unused to the harsh terrains of Lecarre.
I served Queen Jane faithfully, tolerating her ever growing paranoia with grace. She would claim that the food-testers had already acquired an immunity towards poison, or that the food contained toxins that would only harm pregnant women. Her behaviour irritated me intensely as the days passed, and my patience grew thinner. On the third month, I received a letter from Edmund.
To my dear Anne,
The past few weeks had been dreadfully harsh, especially for our soldiers. These poor lads had never lifted a sword in their lives, nor have they ever felt the burning heat of the desert. We are now camping in the Vadim Desert, and it is cold, almost freezing at night. At daytime, however, it is so hot that it feels as if the sun is an inch away from our heads. Our rations are running low, and I had to watch as my men succumb to the heat and collapse. We could not waste any more time in the desert, so we had to abandon them to rot. It was horrible Annie, but what else could we do?
Your brother Gilbert is holding on remarkably well though, so do not worry. He did complain about the sand getting in his boots, but other than that he is fine.
Is everything alright over there in the capital, Annie? Do tell me if the queen mistreated you. I must know. I do not know when I shall return, and Lecarre's capital feels so far away, Annie. I try to appear strong in front of my men, but I too feel just as exhausted as they are. But I do promise that I shall return, and you must remain strong until I do.
Yours truly,
Edmund de Chauvelot
I sighed heavily as I closed the letter, wondering about the terrible conditions that my betrothed and my twin brother were living through at the moment. In my pocket was a bottle of ointment for the queen, who appointed a masseuse to massage her back and feet every night. Last night, the masseuse had used rose-scented oil, and Queen Jane said that the scent was too strong and made her dizzy. Therefore, she ordered me to go to town and purchase a bottle of lavender-scented ointment. In the meantime, the bodies of dead young men were being abandoned in the middle of the Vadim Desert because they did not even have water to drink.
After giving the ointment to the masseuse, I retreated to my chambers and decided to write a response for Edmund.
To the Duke of Cindertrappe,
I am pleased to tell you that all is well here in the capital city, but I am concerned about the conditions that you are entrenched in. Our great king, however, seems to be in good spirits. In the last few weeks, he added several more mistresses into his harem, and if Queen Jane could not bear him an heir, there are probably twenty more women who could.
I was worried about your sister's wellbeing in your absence, so I asked my father to send his men over to Sterling Castle. They too are doing well, so please do not worry. I greatly appreciate you watching out for Gilbert, and I pray for the safe return of not only both of you, but for all of the Phoenician soldiers. You have promised to me that you would return, so you must fulfill that promise. I shall be waiting.
Yours Faithfully,
Anne Genevieve Winterbourne
I sealed the letter with melted red wax and stamped it with the House of Winterbourne's periwinkle crest. As I left my chambers to look for a messenger, I saw the king and his entourage leaving the palace wing that was designated to hold his mistresses.
I swiftly hid the letter in the folds of my dress and curtseyed gracefully for the king.
"You are Cassian's little girl, aren't you?" he chuckled heartily and full of vigour. "You may stand."
I hastily stood up to face the fat and pasty old king, a mere shell of the lively young man he had once been. Although the ruling House of Chauvelot has been known to have striking, jet black hair and pale white skin, King Edward had reddish blond locks, similar to that of Princess Margaret's, and his skin was a golden colour. He had a bright smile, which must have been very eye-catching in his youth, but now I just found it odd and rather creepy.
"You have blossomed into a beautiful woman, Lady Anne," he rasped and stepped closer to me. I subconsciously stepped away, but I did not dare to take another step further. If I did, I would be punished for refusing the king. His greasy body was inches away from mine, and he grasped my face with his pudgy hands. "Such soft skin you have, cherie," he spoke softly.
If he were any other man, I would have long shoved him away and slapped him in the face, but this slimy bastard was the king. I clenched my hands so tightly that my knuckles turned white, and I was so angry that I felt as if my chest was full of fire.
"I am betrothed to your nephew, the Duke of Cindertrappe," I stammered, shivering in disgust as he trailed his fingers across my cheeks.
"He is away, Lady Anne. I know that you are engaged to him for power. But I am here, and I can give you even more power than he ever can. He is a tiny duke, and I am the king, the ruler of this realm!" he exclaimed proudly.
"I am loyal to my betrothed, Your Majesty," I replied coolly, and I watched as the king's face become red with fury.
"How dare you refuse me, wench?! I am your king, and you should be grateful to be able to serve me!" he shouted, and his attendants rushed to his side, each of them eyeing me distastefully.
"Stupid girl! You can't refuse the king!" one of them shouted. Another rushed to King Edward and said, "Your Majesty, should I order the guards to bring her into your chambers?"
It was as if I were a lifeless object that only served to entertain him, and since he was the king, he was entitled to my body. The king grunted and shoved me away immaturely like the clown that he was, and shouted, "Send her away! Seeing her face makes me sick!"
He walked away, but made sure to turn around and say, "Send Mistress Beaumont into my chambers. At least she knows how to serve her king!"
His attendants shrugged at me with disgust, as if I were a dirty, soiled woman. Yes, how terrible I was to refuse the clown that we had as a king, and how prudish I was to want to remain loyal to my betrothed, who was fighting a war on King Edward's own orders.
My hatred for the royal couple grew with each passing day, and I wished that the day of Edmund's return would come swifter. One day after court session had finished, my father pulled me aside to talk with me.
"What have you done, Annie?" he questioned urgently, panic and distaste written all over his aged face.
"I have done nothing, Father," I answered truthfully.
"Annie, the King wants to revoke your betrothal to Edmund, and he wants you to become his mistress. I said no," Father stated.
"But I had done nothing to drive him into doing that, Father!" I cried in defense, and my father solemnly nodded.
"I know that, Annie. But it is likely that he is starting to see the steady rise of Edmund's power and influence. And if this invasion succeeds, even more people will flock over to Edmund's side. Him trying to revoke your engagement is a pitiful final attempt to reverse Edmund's rise to power. The north is already Edmund's territories, and the south belongs to us Winterbournes. All he has is the support of the Eastern Ainsworths, but his queen is already going mad."
At this moment, I was reminded of Claudie's husband, Philippe de Beauchamp. Despite my continuous warnings, Edmund did end up rallying more support and wield more power than the king, and now he is being targeted. In the battlefield, there were so many circumstances for accidents to happen, and I feared for my betrothed's life.
"He flew to close to the sun," I murmured weakly. "Oh Father, what if he does die in battle?"
My cries fell on deaf ears, and I knew that my father too, was clueless. I felt empty inside, as if my insides were brought out, leaving my chest as a hollow cavity. I was so accustomed to Edmund always being there whenever I called for him, and I could not imagine a day when he simply would not be there to answer. I recalled the brief kiss we shared the last time we met, and I wondered if that was truly the end of it all, and I would never meet him again.
I grew increasingly distraught, and I began to imagine all the accidents that could somehow take Edmund's life. Someone could have added poison into his drink or released a venomous viper into his tent. Or he could fall down from his horse and get trampled, or perhaps be ambushed from behind when he least expected it.
That kiss was as far as our relationship would go, and after that, nothing more. Nothing more.
Hi! If you liked this story, try checking out my other story, which is set in the early 1700s, Catarina and The Prince !