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“You realize the futility of such an action. The throne is mine by right.” His sneer radiated arrogant confidence. He encircled her throat with a firm grip. “You were betrothed to me long before you ever wielded a sword. Therefore, you are mine.”
Ruby choked at the pressure. Her eyes watered as she gasped for breath trying to pry his hand off. When he finally released her, she wheezed and coughed. He stepped away, and she rushed forward, knocking into the tray as she reached for the mug of tea.
The mild aroma tickled her nose, but the warmth soothed her throat as she drank.
“Good girl. Drink up. Save your strength.” He laughed as he strode to the door. “You will need it.”
The sound unnerved her. “Burn in hell.”
Ruby doubled over when a sharp pain pierced her abdomen. She cried out and stumbled forward, falling to the floor. Fire burned through her belly. She clutched her arms around herself and screamed as the agony overwhelmed her.
Francis stood over her watching in amusement. She glared at him before another piercing cramp overtook her senses.
“What have you done to me?” She whimpered between breaths. “Poison?”
The once friendly smile she considered warm and comforting twisted in horrific pleasure. “Nothing quite so drastic. I need you hale and hearty when I take the throne.” He tisked. “But I cannot have a bastard threatening my well-laid plans.”
Horror filled her. “Oh, saints above. Please.” Pain shot through her once more. She screamed in agony. Her heart ripped from her chest as her body revolted against the one thing she wished to protect. Her child.
“Finally.” He chuckled. “A pinch of pennyroyal with each meal. Herbs can heal, but they can also serve other purposes.”
Ruby whimpered and clung to consciousness with a single thread. Fire radiated from her womb. Tears filled her eyes.
“I cannot have that bastard vying for my throne.” His footsteps recede and the door opens. “Once it is removed, I will replace it with my own.” He closed the door behind him.
Left in silence and agony, Ruby writhed on the floor and prayed. When the blood came, she wept.
Chapter Five
Not a soul dared meethis gaze as he passed. Servants cowered, hiding their faces and bowing low, in an obvious effort to appease their king’s temper. Crispin strode down the corridor, ignoring the whispers left in his wake.
Five days passed since Ruby and Henry had been taken. Five sleepless nights filled with churning rage and unsatisfied questions. Not one returning soldier bore news worth hearing. Even Ruby’s maids were of little use. The younger being quite innocent, and the other having abandoned her post in the chaos surrounding her mistress’ disappearance. He fought against the desire to charge out of the gates and find Ruby himself, but that would do nothing but excite speculation and incite instability.
Instead, he sent his soldiers with a summons for his brother at the monastery. There was a connection between the queen’s capture and his brother’s magnanimous announcement before the privy council. Although he bore no proof of it, he felt their corresponding ties deep in the pit of his gut.
The young page blundered along behind him barely able to keep up. According to the lad, his guards returned with important information concerning Francis and awaited him in the throne room. Crispin hoped to find his brother bound and on his knees begging for forgiveness.
He burst through the doors leading to the throne room. A cluster of armored knights turned, dropping to their knees at the sight of their king. Crispin acknowledged them with a nod of his head, his attention focused instead on what lay apparently absent.
“Where is he?” Crispin’s fury stoked to life.
“My liege.” The head knight stepped forward, his head bowed in subservience, but his words rang clear through the room. “We searched the monastery. There was no sign of him. The monks claim he stole away the night he returned.”
Crispin grit his teeth. “Where has he gone?”
