Mary had spent the remainder of her day planning a ball for that evening. Understandably, the kitchen staff did not hide their thoughts on her notion. The head cook had clucked his tongue, commenting that he had assumed they would be trying to manage their food stock more carefully, rather than squander it. Still, she pressed on, determined to provide the court with something to distract them from the pestilence lurking at their doors.
She chose her gown carefully. She knew was going to have to overcome the fact that Francis would not be present, and the people of the court were not ones to shy away from gossip. She wanted to appear confident, calm, and, above all, royal. She did not need Francis there with her - or, at least, that is what she told herself.
"The red silk damask, Greer," she said, as her Scottish lady assisted her that evening in getting ready for the big event. "I need a color which will give me confidence tonight."
Greer nodded, fetching the gown from Mary's oversized wardrobe. "The red is particularly striking on you. And how would you like to wear your hair?"
"Down, I think, in soft curls. But I'll need my best tiara for this evening," she stopped a moment, suddenly realizing that her friend who was best at helping with hair styling was missing. "Where is Kenna?"
Greer blushed, looking down at her feet before answering her. "She… uh… well I was doing needlework with her earlier, but then Bash came by and was quite insistent that she go back to their rooms…"
Mary couldn't help keeping herself from blushing as well, her earlier run in with Bash still fresh on her mind. "I see," she replied, somewhat coldly. She was aware that she was a bit jealous - not because of Bash, though, but because Francis was not with her. Besides that, she couldn't think of too many times that her and Francis had stolen to their bedchamber in the middle of the day.
"Well, we'll have to make do without her, I suppose," Mary said calmly, trying her best not to betray any kind of emotion. But Greer knew her better than that.
"Mary, we never did talk about Kenna's marriage to Bash and how that might affect you. It's normal if you still have feelings for him."
Mary shook her head. "That's nonsense, Greer. I was only ever engaged to Bash for political reasons." It was not entirely a lie. She left out the part about her fondness for Bash, and any feelings that had developed between them during their short relationship.
Greer sighed and began to brush Mary's hair. "I'm just saying, you can open up to me if you want. It's never easy to see an ex-lover in the arms of another, let alone a friend, no matter how long ago your relationship was."
"We were never lovers!" Mary blurted out, her eyes turning fierce, causing Greer to nearly jump back from the dressing table. "I'll hear no more talk of this, Greer. I want only to think of the future, and we must make ready for tonight."
Greer said little else for the remainder of the evening.
Mary sat tall as she surveyed her guests in front of her. She had made it clear to the servants that she wanted Francis's throne removed from the dais, while hers was positioned in the center. She knew it was bold, and Catherine had not waited long before reproaching her for such a move. "You are acting as if Francis does not exist! As if you rule France in your own right," she had said. Mary was not trying to send such a message, of course, but she also refused to draw attention to an empty seat beside her.
The room was bustling with excitement, though, and no one seemed concerned about Francis's absence, much to Mary's delight. Music filled the hall, and the kitchens had managed to present a fine feast. The plague which loomed mere miles from them seemed to have been forgotten, at least for this night.
As Mary watched the dancing going on in front of her, Kenna approached her from the side of the room. "Your grace," she bowed ceremoniously, before approaching her friend to speak.
"Lady Kenna, please, come stand by me."
Kenna nodded, coming to stand close by Mary's side. "Forgive me, I know I was absent this afternoon. It's just that Bash and I…"
"Yes, it was not easy to get ready with only one lady by my side," Mary replied sharply. Not only had Kenna not been there when Mary was preparing to get ready, but she had never even shown up at all.
Kenna's face turned to one of bewilderment, clearly surprised that Mary was upset at all. "I am sorry. I got caught up…" she trailed off, searching for the right words.
"Caught up with Bash in between your legs?"
Kenna gasped. "Mary, please! He… he would not take no for an answer."
Mary found that her anger was only getting worse. How dare Kenna neglect her responsibilities, was she forgetting that Mary was not just her friend, but also her sovereign? She knew she had to calm down, to not get angry with Kenna in public, but she couldn't help herself.
"Bash may be king in your bed, Kenna, but he is not the King of France. You serve me, remember." The words were harsh, she knew, but she unable to put a lid on her frustration.
Kenna stood speechless for a moment, before backing away with a quick curtsey and a mumble of "my queen."
Mary was unsurprised when she saw Kenna walk straight to Bash. She was even less surprised when she saw Bash's cool stare in her direction. It hardly mattered to her, though. Let them be angry. She had bigger worries at the moment.
She instead turned her attention to Lord Arran, one of her Scottish subjects who happened to be visiting the French court, though at a rather unfortunate time. "Lord Arran," she beckoned him to rise. He was an older gentleman whose athleticism seemed not to have wavered over the years. He was tall and strong, with no limps or other visible ailments which so often afflicted her elder subjects.
"Will your grace honor me in joining me for the next dance?" he asked. She nodded, responding that she had been wanting to dance all evening.
Lord Arran led her out to the center of the floor as the musicians struck up a new song. She smiled as they placed their palms together and began to circle around each other. It should have been Francis here with her, of course, but she couldn't think about that now. She had organized this ball so that the people would forget about the troubles around them, and that should include herself as well.
"I fear you have come to France at an unfortunate time, my lord," Mary commented as they spun around the room.
"Indeed, your grace, and I arrived just three days ago. Truth to be told, however, I came with the purpose to visit my queen, and the plague has thankfully not kept me from doing so."
"Do you bring any news for me, my lord? My mother and brother do keep me well informed, but I always welcome updates from my subjects as well."
"I am afraid I do not have much to tell you, my queen. Arran is a bit tucked away, as you can imagine, and so I am largely kept out of the political realm."
How idyllic, Mary thought to herself. "I confess I know little of Arran. I hear it is a beautiful island, though, full of rolling hills and sandy beaches."
Before Lord Arran could respond, Bash appeared suddenly at their side. "I do apologize, my lord, but do you mind if I cut in? I have a few urgent matters to discuss with her grace."
Mary could have punched him right there. She knew very well that he had no urgent matters to discuss - that is, she did not consider her words with Kenna to be urgent. But Lord Arran had graciously stepped aside, so she played along in order to avoid embarrassment.
Her and Bash walked quickly to the corridor outside the hall, and she rounded on him as soon as they were out of sight. "How dare you pull me away like that! Lord Arran is an important figure from my country, what is so important that you must discuss it with me now?"
Bash glared right back at her. "I don't care if you are Queen, I won't sit back and let you speak to my wife in the way that you did."
She didn't realize how much hearing the words "your wife" would distress her, but it did. And it did not make her any more sympathetic to Kenna. "She neglected her duties. I cannot treat her differently that I would treat any other lady of mine."
"That is a lie and you know it. Kenna is one of your closest friends. At least, she was until she married me, I suppose."
Mary gasped at his bluntness. "Oh, of course, you think this is about you," she said, shaking her head, but avoiding his gaze. She knew in her heart it was partly about him, and she couldn't think of what to say next.
"Isn't it, Mary?" he asked, moving closer to her, so that they were mere inches apart.
The screaming inside the hall distracted them both. Several high pitched screams rang throughout, and Bash and Mary rushed back in to find Lord Arran collapsed on the ground.
"Keep her grace away!" shouted Nostradamus, bent over the man's body, with a cloth held up to his own face for protection.
The hall filtered out quickly after that, with Bash leading her far away from the scene, despite her protestations. Lord Arran was one of her people, she had to ensure his safety. But her pleadings fell on deaf ears and she was practically pushed into her chambers.
Bash closed the door behind them and put his hand on Mary's forehead. "Are you all right? Do you feel sick at all? My god, you were dancing with him earlier."
Mary began to process then what was happening. Her mind went back to the image of Lord Arran slumped on the ground, sweating and unconscious. He had contracted plague. And he had danced with her, kissed her hand, breathed in her face.
Mary's eyes went wide and she looked at Bash, his brows furrowed in concern. "I… I feel fine right now, but I wouldn't show symptoms so soon…"
She had to send him away, lest he be infected as well. "You must go, you cannot stay any longer in my presence. No one can come into my presence."
Bash shook his head, "no, I can't leave you. You are clearly distressed."
Mary pulled away from his grasp as her eyes began to water. "It is not your responsibility to comfort me, Bash, please."
"You think I give a damn about that? I won't leave you."
She was surprised by his change in attitude, when just several moments earlier he had been so angry with her. But she could see the care and concern in his eyes, and, truthfully, she did not want him to leave.
But she also did not want to jeopardize his health. "Given my contact with Lord Arran, it would be better for you to stay away from me, Bash. Think of your wife." Her words had a double meaning, she knew.
Bash looked at the floor for several long moments, and Mary thought for sure he would decide to leave after all. But instead, he walked slowly over to her, until they were inches apart once more. "Don't speak of her," he whispered, placing his hands gently on her waist.
Her breath caught, and she felt so dizzy for a moment she thought she might faint. But she had to pull herself away.
"Bash, I…. I need to see Nostradamus, and Catherine. I need to determine what actions to take next."
He backed away then, this time understanding. "We will talk later, yes?"
She swallowed hard, knowing she couldn't refuse him. "Yes… later."