MARY
Light spills into the room as I open my eyes. I reach for my husband, only to feel emptiness where he is supposed to be. The door opens and Francis makes his way over to me. I smile at him as I climb out of bed. The children are asleep in their rooms after a long day of play, I know. I dress myself as my husband closes the distance between us. Just as I'm done dressing, Francis takes me in his arms. His arms envelop around me as he holds me close, breathing me in. I return his embrace, resting my head on his shoulder. I can sense his exhaustion…as well as something else that I'm unable to place.
"Are you okay?" I murmur.
"I'm fine," he says before withdrawing from me. Francis smiles softly at me; a hand curls around my face, and I lean into his touch. "I was just thinking about how much I love my wife." He kisses me softly, slowly, lazily. I kiss him back and he strokes my cheek with his thumb. A silence dawns between us, and for a long while, neither of us says anything. "Mary, I need to tell you something." My concern immediately spikes at his words.
"What is it?" I ask. "What's wrong?" My husband takes me by the hand and sits down on the couch. I take a seat next to him, listening intently. "Francis, what is it?"
"You're going to have to trust me on this," he says. "If you ever meet someone here by the name of Serena, don't trust her. She's dangerous and so is the organization she works for." I stare at him, baffled. Where is all of this coming from? I love and trust my husband entirely, but already, none of this is making sense.
"Who is Serena?" I ask.
"Your worst nightmare. Our worst nightmare," Francis answers. "Keep the children away from her. I wouldn't be telling you this if it wasn't serious." Sensing my hesitation, he grabs my hands. "Mary, do you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you, Francis," I tell him, meaning it. "I just don't understand." What isn't he telling me and why? It isn't like my husband to be so secretive; we are very open with each other in our marriage. There are no secrets between us.
"It's for your safety and our children," is all he says. I'm tempted to press him more about Serena and what she's involved in, but I trust that my husband will tell me everything in his own time. He slants his mouth over mine, and I reciprocate his kiss without hesitation. My hands come around his face and he weaves his fingers through my hair. "I love you, Mary," he says quietly.
"I love you too," I whisper.
MARY
"Mama, Mama!" Catherine squeals. "Look! Look at da pwetty fwower I found!" Our youngest daughter bounds over us a rose from the gardens in her hand. My husband beams as he watches, his arms full with Anne, James, and Aimeri. Anne and her brother clamor for his attention, and he speaks softly to them. I don't know what he says, but it sends them running over to us.
"What a pwetty fwower!" Anne exclaims. "What kwind of fwower is it, Mommy?"
"It's a red rose," I tell her, kneeling down to her level. "And yes, Cat, it is pretty. Just like you and your sister." My daughter's faces are mirrors of excitement in equal measure. Catherine leans over and whispers something in Anne's ear, and the two run off, chasing after James. Their laughter warms my heart and I walk over to my husband and our infant son. I can't help but admire my husband as he cradles Aimeri. It's rare to find him at peace; it is usually with me or with the children that I get to see him like this, unburdened by the crown. To the court, he is nothing else but their king. He is not their lover, their husband, or the father of their children. He is mine.
"He never cries," says Francis. "He's always so quiet and peaceful." Aimeri giggles as he plays with his father's fingers. I sit down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. There, I am lulled to sleep as he sings to our son.
FRANCIS
My wife and I settle down the children just in time for dinner. Mary sits them down properly at the table while I give James his dose of bottled milk.
"Should I go on and put him in his cot?" I ask Mary. "He seems to have worn himself out."
"Go ahead, Francis," she tells me. "I'll get dinner prepared for us." I cradle our youngest son in our arms as I take him to the nursery. For just a moment, I am able to pretend that the Citadel has no hold over my life…but I know that this is mere delusion. As long as Serena is here, my family is in danger. I want to tell my wife the truth, but I refuse to involve her in the Citadel's affairs. I can't. I won't. I won't do anything that might put her life at risk – or the lives of our children. They can't be involved in this.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see Serena standing in the nursery. I hold my son closer to me, as if to shield him from her eyes. My blood runs hot with anger and adrenaline. "Why are you here?" I hiss.
"You know I've always loved children, Francis," she says coyly. She strides over to me, toying with her dagger. "The youth is the key to the future. You proved as much when you joined the Citadel. It's what drew me to you in the first place."
"The fuck do you want?" I demand. She giggles childishly as she tips the point of the knife towards Aimeri; I instinctively cover him in my arms.
"You owe the Citadel a fucking debt, Francis," she says sweetly. "I thought you knew this already. Lucien…do you remember Lucien? He was Astrid's second-in-command and her lover. Astrid wanted you to find the traitor in our brotherhood, but you fucked up and accused Lucien. We were forced to kill him and it wasn't until after his death that we realized he was innocent. You know better than anyone what we do, Francis. We let you join us because we saw true potential in you. It's such a shame how much you've disappointed."
"What kind of a debt?" I press hotly.
"In blood or in money," Serena says sharply. "We've kept our eye on you over the years, and we have several potential candidates that we could kill if you don't pay up. Your lovely wife, the queen…your children, even that precious little baby you have there. Your brother and your sister might be out of the country, but that doesn't mean that they're out of our reach. Give us cash or you will bathe in blood. It's your choice."
"How much cash do you even want?"
"900 grand. Pay up – or people will start dying." Serena stalks out of the room and once I lay Aimeri down in his cot, a cold fear slithers into me.
MARY
When my husband returns, I can sense that something is deeply wrong. He says and does nothing – he doesn't kiss me in greeting or glance in my direction. Anne, James, and Catherine bicker at the table over what TV show to watch before they have to go to bed as they eat their dinner. I rise from the table and approach Francis, taking him by the hand and pulling him aside, out of earshot of our children.
"Is something going on that I should know about?" I ask. "You've been acting strange since this afternoon."
"It's something you needn't concern yourself with," he says crisply. "I'm handling it." It takes all of my self-control not to screech with frustration at his vagueness. The last time he kept a secret from me was after he murdered his father. He did it to protect me from Narcisse's threats and in the end, it had almost gotten him killed. Rarely have we kept secrets from one another since then.
"Handling what?" I hiss. "Francis, you need to trust me!"
"I do trust you!" my husband insists. I'm no longer able to look him in the eye and he cups my face in his hands, making me look at him. "Mary, you have to understand. I'm not keeping things from you because I don't trust you. It's for your own protection. It's for the best, Mary."
"Don't you think I should be the judge of what's best for me?" I snap. "Francis, it's not just me anymore. It's Anne and James and Catherine and Aimeri! It's our children, too!"
"I owe Serena and her organization a debt," he blurts out. "I was a member before you came back to court."
"Was? Why the past tense?"
"I got their second in command killed while I was on a job," Francis explains. "I was convinced he was guilty of treachery, but he was innocent. Now, I owe them 900 grand in cash."
"900 grand?" I nearly shriek. "Francis, we can't afford to give them that kind of money! We're practically drowning in debt helping Elizabeth replenish her own resources!" After peace was formed between Scotland and England, our countries entered a golden age. Since then, France has been helping England restock their assets after the initial conflict between our countries. We've been deep in debt ever since, but we've been gradually paying it off.
"Mary, she threatened you. She threatened our children," says Francis lowly. "I don't have a choice."
"You aren't going to give her what she wants, are you? Are you?"
"I can't even if I wanted to. The best thing we can do for now is take the children away, get them away from court until this all blows over. I won't let anything happen to them."
"What about Aimeri?" I ask. "Francis, he's just a baby. Please…not Aimeri. Not him." I need to be here to protect him from this Serena; I trust that James, Anne, and Catherine will be alright but Aimeri is our youngest. I can't bring myself to part with him. "Francis, please…he needs his mother. I need to protect him myself."
"Keep Serena away from him," my husband warns me. I don't know what to say, so I nod silently. I'm not aware of the tears that have streaked down my face until Francis gently takes my face in his hands and wipes my tears away with his thumb. He brushes his lips against my forehead and he faintly whispers, "I promise, Mary, I will make this right." I look up at him as I gently cup the back of his neck and place my hand on his heart. I brush my lips against his softly, but it isn't long until the embers of passion flicker and ignite into a wildfire. Francis wraps his arm around my waist and I wrap my arms around him, fisting a hand in his hair. I gasp as he lifts me in his arms and places me on the island counter. One swift glance at the children shows me that they are so utterly immersed in their bickering that they don't notice us, and I can't help but be thankful for that. Francis buries his face in my neck, sucking and biting on the soft flesh. My legs come around his waist as he pushes my black leather jacket off my shoulders. I roll my shoulders back and let my jacket fall to the floor.
"This is so dirty of us," I gasp. "The children…"
"Don't scream and they won't suspect a thing," Francis says huskily. I thread my fingers through his golden locks as he presses hot openmouthed kisses along my neck. The spaghetti straps of my shirt fall down my shoulders and my husband pulls my cardigan down, offering him my breasts. Francis runs his mouth down the valley of my breasts and I begin to roll my hips forward against him. He growls his approval before he grasps at my cardigan, pulling it over my head and discarding it carelessly to the floor. I arch myself against him, craving more contact with him.
"Take me to bed," I moan. I slide off the counter, my heart racing in anticipation in my chest. I take Francis's hand and take him to our bedroom. The moment the door closes, Francis is on me. His mouth is on mine, his powerful hands roaming my body. I make quick work of his shirt, practically tearing it off his body. My nails rake his chest in my passion, but Francis doesn't seem to mind. I cross my arms and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor and exposing my breasts. My husband's mouth moves from my lip to my neck and shoulders and to my breasts before he sinks onto his knees, pulling my jeans down to the floor. He briefly pulls away so I can step out of them and kick them away before he takes my panties between his teeth, slowly tugging the thin material down my legs. Francis tosses them away and rises back up so he can look into my eyes.
I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around him as our lips crash together, but he pushes me back upon the bed. He hastily removes his jeans before he crawls on top of me, entrapping me with his body. Our tongues clash together in an erotic, passionate and sensual duel for a control neither of us are willing to give up. I cup my husband's face in my hands, arching myself against him. He buries his face in the curve of my neck, biting me hard enough that I cry out…but I don't mind the pain. Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin. My legs wrap around his waist and I moan in pleasure.
"Francis, Francis!" I cry. My husband pulls out to the tip before plunging back inside me, harder than before. He does this again and again and again, and I cry out again as he brushes against that sweet spot that always gets me off. I grind my hips against him as his powerful thrusts threaten to send me over the edge. I kiss him insistently, maneuvering so I roll atop of him. I gently caress his face, kissing him deeply and passionately. Francis presses a hand into the small of my back as I slowly roll my hips against him. I gradually pick up the pace and my husband bucks his hips against me. Our kisses become harder and more demanding, and I ride him harder and harder. I tear my mouth away from his and push myself upright, my nails raking his bare chest. I sway my hips, slowly at first, but I increase my tempo gradually. I twine our fingers together as I ride him, not once taking my eyes off him. Our eyes lock together and I place my husband's hands upon my hips. It feels unbelievable good to have him under me…inside me. I throw my head back and moan in ecstasy. Francis slides a hand up to a breast, his stare filled with awe and lust. He plays and fondles with my breast until it aches, but I don't stop riding him. I ride him without abandon and Francis sits up suddenly, his arms wrapping around my waist. The world turns on its axis as he flips me over onto my back and he takes me hard, nearly leaving bruises on my neck and inner thighs as we move together in an animalistic haze.
"Harder, harder, harder!" I beg through gritted teeth. Francis explodes into me with a growl and I arch my back into him, screaming aloud as a violent orgasm washes over me and my husband joins me as he yells my name. The embers of fire in my belly are an untamed blaze. I dig the soles of my bare feet into the back of his thighs, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him hotly. He tears his mouth away from mine – I whimper at the loss of contact – in want of my neck. I arch my back, melting into him, shuddering in pleasure. My husband's mouth moves from my neck down to my breasts; I fight to keep my eyes open to watch him, but they fall closed and my mouth falls open in a wordless moan as my orgasm washes over me. He kisses my lower belly, rubbing his nose tauntingly into my flesh. Francis grips my inner thigh, gently kissing me there. I arch my back, throwing an arm over my head, as he plunges his tongue into my heat. My husband strokes my sweetest spots with his tongue, driving me higher and higher. I shake uncontrollably, overcome by the sinfully sweet sensations brought about by his mouth. Francis explores me slowly before he licks my slit. I whimper as I writhe beneath his mouth. It is then that he changes his pace. My husband moans into my core before he kisses my folds.
"Oh god…oh god, Francis!" I moan. He delves his tongue in and out of me, winding me up so impossibly tight that I feel I'm going to explode with the need for release. Every so often, he swirls his tongue around my swollen bundle of nerves and my hips jerk off the bed of their own accord. His fingertips dig into me, and I'm forced to be still. I cup his face and guide him back to me, before I kiss him passionately. I push myself upright, repositioning myself so I'm in his lap, keeping our lips fused together. I gasp as this new angle brings my husband deeper inside me, and he buries his face in my neck. I wrap my arms around him and hide my face in his shoulder, muffling my cries. I shatter into pieces only moments later, coming apart in Francis's arms.
FRANCIS
I make love to Mary until she collapses in my arms, our bodies and hair slick with sweat. She nestles close to me, our limbs entwined together under the silken sheets, and she traces a pattern into my chest with her fingers that only she can see.
"No matter what happens, I love you," I tell her quietly. I can feel it, and a part of me knows she can feel it too: the calm before the storm. Serena's presence at court is only the beginning.
"I love you too," my wife whispers. She kisses me gently, stroking my cheek with her thumb. We lie together in silence for several long moments before she props herself up on one elbow, gazing at me intently. "Francis, who exactly is Serena? You never told me who she is – or what organization she works for."
"Are you sure you want to know?" I ask her. She nods. "I was…involved with her a few years back, when I was with her organization before you came back to court."
"…Involved?" Her brows furrow and her eyes flash with jealousy.
"It was a purely sexual relationship. No strings attached," I continue.
"So, she was your fuckbuddy?" Mary asks, her tone clipping. I don't flinch at her anger, nor do I blame her. She shakes her head. "Why did you break things off? What the hell happened before I got here?" Her voice has lost its initial hostility, but there is still underlying resentment in her when she speaks.
"I eventually realized that I was in over my head with my involvement with them," I explain. "I thought they were fighting for a good cause, but they were using me to advance their own personal interests."
"Is that why you left?"
"Partially," I answer. "I caused the death of their second in command while out on a job. After that and realizing who they really were, I left."
"And now you owe them a debt," Mary finishes. "Who are these people, Francis? Why did you get involved with them in the first place?"
"It doesn't matter," I tell her. "What matters is protecting our family."
"…You aren't going to give them what they want, are you?" she asks me.
I don't answer.