Bothwell’s suggestion is inspiring the men gathered here today, and it’s as infectious as a curse.
Nearly all the men now have sparks of red in their auras.
Every single one of them is tempted by the idea of violence. Even Mary. She was hesitant before, but the last murder attempt with the needle seems to have swayed her more than I realized.
The more that seed of temptation burrows into the lairds’ minds, the more I start contemplating another possibility.
I think about how all the Jameses before Mary died young, many due to violence. Is there some magical corruption at court that I never saw because it’s been here for generations? Have the Red Caps been worming their way back into Scotland slowly somehow?
Scotland doesn’t have a bloodless past. No one could argue that.
Except…men don’t need a Red Cap weapon to long for violence.
Besides, I was wrong. Not every man is ready to take up arms. There’s one who completely lacks violence in his aura.
Samson.
“What other options are there?” Bothwell says, pushing closer to Argyll. “Darnley’s a problem that has only one solution. Not divorce, obviously.”
“But not murder, surely?” Moray says. “Don’t forget—Darnley has royal blood. He’s not just a commoner.”
Idiot man. Blue bloods are red when their veins are split.
“If not murder, then what?” Bothwell insists. “If Elizabeth would just die already, we could put Mary on the throne in London, but that would still leave Darnley here. Unless—”
“The king, my husband, will never rule from any throne,” Mary says quietly. She stabs her cloth, pulling the thread through, glaring at it. Mary will not let Darnley have an English crown nor a Scottish one. She’ll be happy only when she’s taken away every possible avenue he has to take power.
“Would he…” Moray starts. “Would the king consort be open to retirement? He’s already given you a male heir, fine and good. Orkney, perhaps? Or give him a ship, let him captain it…”
“And hope Manannán takes him,” Cockburn mutters, referencing the old god of the sea, the one who drags lost sailors down to the underworld.
Mary lifts her head. “That is also not an option,” she says. “For one, it would be seen as a failure. I will not have my son’s birth be marred by his father’s public ineptitude.”
I snort. Public failure? Sure, if the king consort were sent to sea,everyone would assume it’s because he and the queen didn’t get along. But anyone with eyes can already see that.
No, part of Mary’s refusal to do this is because it’s what Darnley has told her he wants to do. I’ve heard them arguing before. He knows that leaving will embarrass Mary, and he’s tried to claim that he’ll get on a ship and do it anyway if she won’t grant him the Crown Matrimonial. The only reason he hasn’t is because Mary forbade it. Plus, he’s such a dumbarse he’s gambled away the private funds he’d need to commission a ship on his own.
No divorce.
No separation if Mary can ascend to a higher court.
No letting Darnley traipse off to sea.
Uncomfortable silence weaves around the Great Chamber. Bothwell smiles smugly. Killing the arse seems to be the only option left.
But before that happens, Imustfind out how he got a Red Cap weapon.
12
Samson
This meeting’s about offing Mary’s husband.
Not attacking Elizabeth—with or without fae magic, like Cecil suspected. How many of the people in this meeting even know about the existence of fae magic?
Mary doesn’t seem concerned about Elizabeth at all. None of the lords here do. They don’t like her, sure, but they aren’t actively plotting to invade England.
It’d have been too easy for this meeting to actually be about that, for Cecil to have given me direct information regarding any part of this mission. Shoulda known even Cecil’s bit about Mary having the fae items to target Elizabeth wasn’t the whole truth of things.
