Reign: The Haunting by Lily Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

destroying all he had ever fought for and there was only one answer. A coup was too volatile. Without a clean death, a rightful succession, Francis’s reign would always be in question and always at risk, but he couldn’t allow another to carry the burden of taking his father’s life. Francis knew he had not had a choice. If he were in the same position today, he would do it again.
    â€œPeople tell all manner of stories in their sleep,” he said, steeling himself against the guilt of lying to his wife again. What he would have given to confess all, to tell Mary that he had only done what had to be done. But he couldn’t. “Perhaps I ate something strange at supper, too much cheese again most likely?”
    â€œThen you must be a mouse,” Mary said with a light smile that belied her concern. “It’s been almost every night since you returned to the castle.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” Francis turned, the nightmare not fading as fast as he would have liked, but fading all the same, and took his wife’s face in his hands. “So much has been happening lately, I have been having strange dreams. But they mean nothing, I promise.”
    â€œNostradamus says our dreams tell us of the truths we fear to speak,” she said, placing her cool, smooth hands over his. “You have taken on so much. Henry’s death, the plague, all the trouble with Narcisse. Becoming a king and a father…”
    Her voice drifted away.
    â€œIt’s nothing, Mary, I promise you,” Francis said. Their inability to conceive weighed heavily on him and he hated that he could not simply tell her the truth and remove the guilt from her shoulders. She may have forgiven him for fathering a child with her friend and lady’s maid, Lola, but she still could not forgive herself for losing their baby and nothing he could say seemed to help. And now she was blaming herself for his night terrors. “You need your rest. We both do, we have a kingdom to rule.”
    â€œAnd visitors arriving tomorrow,” she reminded him, leading him back to the bed. “Your cousin Lorenzo arrives in the morning. Catherine is quite beside herself.”
    â€œHave you ever seen my mother so happy about a cardinal visiting the palace?” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Surely there is a story to be told.”
    â€œAnd surely we shall hear it,” Mary said. She brushed his damp golden hair away from his face and left her hand against his cheek. “Try to get some sleep, I’m almost certain that we will need our wits about us.”’
    â€œI’m almost certain that you’re right.” Francis settled in beside his wife, waiting for her breathing to slow and shallow, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the dawn to come.
    *  *  *
    â€œQueen Mary requests an audience with the Queen Mother.” Catherine’s page entered her chambers, eyes lowered to the floor, fully aware that he was not bringing desirable news to his mistress.
    â€œHow is it possible to take two words that have brought me so much joy and turn them into the most foul of insults?” Catherine asked her reflection as she straightened her crown. “Who was that man who called me a mewling hedge-pig?”
    â€œLord Ingegneri, your grace,” Beatrice, one of her lady’s maids replied. “You had him hung, drawn, and quartered.”
    â€œAh, yes.” Catherine smiled at herself in the mirror. “How I miss the olden days. Send her in.”
    â€œCatherine.” Mary rushed through the door, her braided hair and lush forest-green velvet gown nothing but perfection to an untrained eye. But to a fellow queen, it was evident that Mary’s dressing had been hurried.
    â€œLeave us,” Catherine commanded her maids and guards before her daughter-in-law could speak. Without a word, they bowed, curtsied, and removed themselves