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Francis lifted his hands in supplication. “It may come as no surprise to some to discover the truth about my brother, Crispin. His actions over the years have branded him as self-indulgent and hedonistic, earning him the moniker The Prince of Whispers. No one is more stunned than I to uncover the truth behind his selfish actions.”
Ruby watched in horror as Francis wove his spell over the masses. The crowd leaned forward in anticipation of his tale. He paced the small space and, with an air of regret and pious humility, lowered his head for a solemn moment of introspection before meeting the voracious crowd’s gaze once more.
“It has been revealed that my brother, Crispin, hired an assassin to poison our father. The king.” His accusation hung heavily in the air.
A chorus of gasps erupted into a cacophony of chatter. The news shook the foundation of the castle itself as the people absorbed the horror of the implications.
The crowd fell silent as Vivienne stepped forward, her attention focused solely on Crispin. “Is this true?”
Crispin slowly lifted his head and met his mother’s stern expression. Ruby’s heart ached at the defeat etched upon his features. The confidence he once bore with such effortless grace had been reduced to ash. Stripped bare and thwarted at every turn, Crispin cobbled together what strength remained as he straightened and held her gaze. Ruby’s breath lodged in her chest.
“I did not murder my father.” Crispin’s voice shattered the tense silence.
The crowd burst into a flurry of movement and shouts. Chaos reigned in the aftermath of his response.
Ruby slumped in relief. For a moment, she thought he conceded defeat, but within those words, she heard his refusal to comply with Francis’s twisted interpretation of the truth. She watched Vivienne, praying she would see through the deception playing out before them like a mummer’s farce.
Vivienne squared her shoulders. Her face softened the smallest fraction before disappearing behind a mask of indifference. Had Francis been watching his mother, he would have seen it. They all would have. Her gaze shifted from Crispin to Ruby.
Without words, she pleaded for aid, hoping the woman she embraced as a friend and a mother would see the shredded remnants of her soul bared before her. Vivienne folded her hands.
“What proof have you of his guilt?” a lone voice rose from the crowd to her left.
Ruby glanced toward the table where the privy council sat watching the events unfolding before them. Their stoic faces were pinched tight with a mixture of fear, uncertainty, anger, and doubt. But one man stood taller than the rest, his voice raised in curious defiance.
“Does his adamant refusal not reek of fear? Do his past deeds not account for his definitive lack in one’s ability instill trust that his words are truthful?” Francis remained calm even though Ruby heard the undercurrent of anger threatening to sweep them beneath the surface of the calm waters of his carefully crafted façade.
“At least I have been faithful to my own nature.” Crispin sneered, his tone low and dangerous. “You hide behind false humility and sacrilegious piety. Your lies grow with every breath. I hope you rot in hell for what you have done to me...to my queen.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. A sob caught in her throat. He fought for her, even on their knees before their enemy, beaten and bruised, tattered beyond repair, he fought for her honor. Pride swelled inside her chest, filling her heart to bursting. Even if this moment led to their deaths, she knew beyond any doubt Crispin loved her more than he loved himself.
“You stole my queen, tortured her, ripped our child from her womb, and yet you stand before me with the audacity to call me a selfish bastard and a murderer.” Crispin bared his teeth. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
Vivienne gasped, drawing Ruby’s attention. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of Crispin’s mother clutching her bodice above her heart, her wide blue eyes filled with sorrow. She wanted to throw herself into her arms and grieve with her.
A loud crack echoed through the room. Crispin fell sideways from the impact of the guard’s strike against his head. He collided with Ruby, knocking them both to the ground.
Before she could speak, the guard hauled Crispin back to his knees and held a blade to his throat. Blood ran from his nose, staining the front of his tunic.
“The next time you speak to the king in such a manner, I will cut out your tongue.” The guard hissed, his voice so low Ruby nearly missed the exchange.
Her eyes widened with horror knowing he would do much worse than that if given the opportunity and the permission. She righted herself, casting a cautious glance around the room. The guests seemed equally as stunned and horrified by the confrontation before them. Even the privy council sat quietly as though weighing the outcome in their mind and debating on the wisdom of interjecting further. This quarrel, it seemed, lay between the brothers, and no one wished to be caught in the maelstrom of their anger.
“His desperation knows no bounds,” Francis lamented with a frown. He drew Vivienne closer, allowing her to stand by his side and stare down at Crispin. The pressure of his hand on her arm belied her unwillingness to be drawn into the center of their battle.
“He knows nothing of ruling a county. Indulging in wine and women, whoring his way through the kingdom,” Francis continued, spinning his web of deceit. “Even Henry, his companion, has been seduced by his hedonism. They share everything. Even the queen.”
Ruby’s face heated, but she refused to be shamed by his words. Holding her ground, she ignored the whispers around them.
“After years of lies and secrecy, is it truly so difficult to believe he would threaten me with falsehoods and use his closest companion to play a role in his selfish desires?” A wickedness consumed him as he spoke. “He took the queen to place the blame upon me. To keep me from taking the throne as I am rightfully able to do, even after I returned to the monastery content to live my days in the service of the Lord.”
She nearly vomited at the brazen lies spilling from his twisted mouth.
“I offered my support, my companionship, and my trust.” Francis pressed his hand to his chest. “And he betrayed me, casting me into the flames and threatening my life should I not comply with his demands. He longed to portray me as the villain when he himself fills the role without hesitation.”
“You damned liar!” Henry shouted from behind them. He sprang to his feet, pushing through Crispin and Ruby, lunging directly for Francis.
Vivienne stumbled away as Francis stepped out of reach. Henry came to a stop an arm’s length from Francis, his hands outstretched when he collapsed in a heap clutching his side. Ruby reached for him, rolling him onto his back. Her hands slipped in the blood pouring from the gash across his torso. It spilled over the stone beneath him, spreading like a blanket of red across the white stone.
