His Secret Slave to Scandalous Queen

Madeleine finished with Bella and turned to the other ladies. For one sweet, satisfying moment, no one breathed too loudly.

Good. At least fear still worked in England. Their tea was weak, their weather miserable, and their food a crime against the human tongue, but at least they carried manners.

"Which one of you is called Livia?" Madeleine asked.

Nobody moved. The women stared at her as if she had suddenly spoken in tongues. She waited.

Nothing.

"Okay..." Madeleine drew the word out, her smile thinning. "Is there anyone named Livia in Whitehall?"

Again, no one moved. Not even a twitch. Madeleine looked from face to face, growing more irritated with each passing second.

"Are you all dumb?" Madeleine snapped. "I asked a simple question."

Before anyone could answer, a low voice broke through the silence.

"You did it."

Madeleine turned slowly. Bella had spoken so softly that, for a moment, it seemed the words might have come from the fire.

"What?"

Bella raised her head. Her eyes met Madeleine’s. Bella had no idea why she said what she said.

Not truly. The thought had been sitting inside her for days, growing teeth every time she remembered the princess falling ill outside her door. It made no sense. None of it made sense. Why would Madeleine suddenly collapse there? Why had her son been alive one moment and gone the next?

But the more she heard the princess’s grating voice, the more she realised she was capable of unspeakable things.

"You did it," Bella whispered again. She had nothing to lose.

"Lady Bella," one of the women murmured nervously.

Deep inside, Bella knew. Did the princess cast some kind of spell over her baby because she didn’t want the king’s attention divided? Was it witchcraft? Some French devilry?

"You did it." Her voice came steadier as she got to her feet.

"Did what?" Madeleine asked.

Bella’s face twisted. "You killed my son!" she yelled.

Every lady in the room was too shocked to remember their own bodies. Then, as if someone had finally shaken sense into them, they all sprang into action.

But they were too late. Bella had already lunged. She moved with wild force. One moment she was standing near the chair, the next she was on Madeleine, clawing at her, driving both of them to the floor in a violent tangle of silk, hair, and shrieking women.

The room exploded. Tea went flying. Cups shattered. Someone screamed.

"Get her off!" Madeleine shouted, struggling beneath Bella’s grip.

"She killed him!" Bella screamed. "She killed my boy!"

"Lady Bella!" one of the older women cried, grabbing at Bella’s sleeve.

Bella threw her off like a rag. The others rushed forward then, skirts tangling around their feet, hands reaching, pulling, panicking. But Bella was indeed mad. Grief had given her a strength none of them expected. She fought like she had nothing left to lose, because she truly believed she did not.

The doors burst open. Guards stormed in, faces tense with the horror of finding noblewomen wrestling on the floor.

"Get her away from me!" Madeleine snapped.

Two guards seized Bella under the arms and hauled her back. She kicked, twisted, and screamed, her hair loose around her face, her breath coming hard. Another guard helped Madeleine to her feet.

"You see that?!" Bella yelled, fighting against the guards’ hold. "Did you all see that?! She said other men couldn’t touch her when my son died. She screamed at them! She killed my son!"

A ripple of discomfort passed through the ladies. Bella looked around desperately, searching for agreement, for outrage, for one person brave enough to say she was not mad.

All she saw were wary looks.

"She killed my son!" Bella cried again, her voice breaking. "She cast some kind of spell. She is a French witch! Why can’t you all see?"

Madeleine stood breathing hard, her face burning with fury. Scratches marked her face and neck, and a few loose strands of hair had escaped her careful styling, her tiara lost somewhere in the mess of the room. Her eyes flashed. "I want her beheaded this instant!!!" she yelled.

"I’ll gladly join my son!" Bella screamed, straining against the guards as she tried to reach the princess once more.

If she was going to die, she might as well take the French girl with her. What was left to fear? Hell? She already lived there. Every breath she took without Thomas felt like punishment enough.

Madeleine hurried back, placing herself behind one of the guards. "Keep that madwoman away from me!" she snapped.

The doors opened once more. Theodora came in like thunder.

"What nonsense is going on here?!" she demanded, her gaze sweeping over the overturned chair, broken cup, scattered tea, trembling ladies, and Bella being restrained like a wild animal. "Where do you all think you are?! A fish market?" 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Bella twisted free just enough to stumble toward Theodora. The guards moved to catch her, but Theodora lifted one hand, and they paused. "Your Grace!" Bella cried, falling before her. "She did it! She killed Thomas! She killed my son!"

Theodora looked down at Bella. Theodora was not a woman built for softness. But Thomas had been her grandson. Blood of her blood.

But Bella was sobbing too loudly, too desperately, too publicly, and Theodora’s sympathy soured into irritation.

"You are not well, Bella," she said coldly. "I thought being out and about would help you. I see I was wrong."

"I’m not crazy," Bella insisted, clutching at Theodora’s skirts. "Okay, yes! I was crazy, Your Grace. I am allowed to be crazy. My son died. My baby died. Let any woman here bury her child and then come teach me manners." Bella pointed a shaking finger toward Madeleine. "But right now, I am telling you, she did it. She cast a spell on my Thomas. My baby. Your grandson."

Madeleine let out a sharp laugh. "Am I to be accused of witchcraft because your grief has eaten what little sense you had left?"

Bella lunged again, but the guards caught her properly this time.

(Brought to you by Missy Dionne 1/2)