CHAPTER VI - CATHERINE

"Any three's?"

Claude held up a stack of cards in her hand, looking awfully unamused at the set she had been handed. A bowl of delicacies was perched on the empty spot near her when the carriage came to a stop. Immediately, she looked out the window and frowned at the sight. They had barely just exited the woods, the entourage had stretched on for mile, which meant that Mary was far ahead of them as they stopped just at the entrance of the forest.

Then, there was a loud explosion and Catherine's heart went to a halt.

"What happened?" Claude piped up, looking out the window as well for any sign when, suddenly, a bloodied hand was smeared against the glass of the coach's door. Claude screamed and Catherine felt an underlying that churned uncomfortably in her stomach.

But it wasn't an enemy. It wasn't a rebel about to take her and her daughter's life. It was a palace guard who looked like he had seen war. The guard bowed his head and immediately, the scent of blood overtook the entire coach. Catherine recognized him as one of Mary's guards, one of the footmen assigned to her carriage. Catherine stepped out of the carriage and inhaled sharply at the sight—the continuous entourage was now curled and ended.

"Where is the Queen?"

"It all happened too fast, Queen Mother."

"I didn't ask for excuses—what happened to her?"

The guard looked helpless and flinched in pain. It was only then when she realized that his hand clutched the side of his stomach, blood seeping from the wound. "Rebels. They hid among the woods and waited until the carriage crossed. We were ambushed, Your Majesty." Catherine looked around and saw no signs of the carriage that carried Mary, or even the men who should have attended to her.

"Is she alive?"

"She was taken, Your Majesty." He pointed towards the Blood Woods. "We're not sure if she's still. . .alive, my queen."

Catherine inhaled sharply. "You better hope that she is," she gave the guard a firm look. "Her life is the only factor standing between you and your death by my command." Catherine turned towards the group of soldiers now pooling around her. "Gentlemen, give me a sword, and follow me."

There was a soldier who stood above from the rest and Catherine noticed how the guards shot the man a look. A short realization occurred to her that the man was in charge of their security and was the lead palace guard. "Your Majesty, protocol would suggest that we take you and the Princess Claude back to castle while my men scour the woods to search for the Queen, ma'am."

Catherine couldn't help a bitter laugh. "Yes, and all this from the very man who was tasked to keep her safe?"

The soldier refused to bow down, instead, remained with a stoic expression. "The protocol is what the late King Henry established. It's what King Francis would want—"

"Ah, so we follow the whims of a dead man—my dear husband, mind you—and who are you to insinuate that I don't know my son at all?" she hissed before grabbing the man's sword and ordered her footman to lead the way with a torch before facing the remaining entourage she had with her. "How many rebels did you encounter, boy?"

The footman covered in blood shivered, but nodded straightaway at the question. "It was dark, Your Majesty. Our numbers were easily bested, it could be a count of a hundred men." Catherine felt her stomach sink, they were only twenty at best.

But her resolve didn't weaken. Nostradamus predicted that she would keep her family safe with Mary. She needed the young queen. "We split into two groups—there's strength in numbers."

"Mother, where's Mary?" Catherine groaned. For a short moment, she forgot all about Claude. "And where are we going?"

A short, clipped laugh made its way to her lips. "Oh, we are not going anywhere. You are going back to the castle. Take a guard, have him accompany you." A grave look flashed across her face as she realized the stark darkness of the Blood Woods in the dead of the night. "You're not safe here." There was a tenderness to her voice and Catherine realized that it was fear for her daughter and herself.

She didn't know, not with true certainty, if she was going to make it out of this situation alive.

But Claude remained, unmoving and determined. "No," she said firmly. "I'm staying with you."

Deep inside, there was a surge of pride that blossomed in Catherine's heart as they marched through the mosquito-infected bogs of the forest. "And how will you protect yourself?"

Oddly enough, there was a hint of a smirk on her daughter's lips. "I'm not helpless, you know?" she pointed out and parted a small petticoat to reveal a sheathed dagger. "Someone's been teaching me how to look after myself." A look of shock momentarily took over her, which Claude promptly misinterpreted as disbelief. "What?" she asked in indignation. "It's true!"

"Well, as much as I'd want you to remain in the safety of the castle, I'm afraid we're far too deep inside the woods for you to go back, even with a guard." Catherine frowned as the sound of twigs snapping under the pressure of her soldiers' weight began to dwindle as they tried to remain silent as possible. "As long as you make yourself useful, I suppose. We need to find Mary."

"Why are you so fixed on finding her? I thought she was the bane of your existence, threatening the life of your golden, favorite child and whatnot."

There was a small huff of breath at first, a pregnant silence before she turned to face her daughter, a look of panic that encompassed them both in heavy realization. "There's a prophecy, isn't there." Claude asked, breathlessly.

"Yes. Nostradamus—he's seen something."

"What is it about?" from her tone, it was obvious that she understood that whatever future was predicted, it wouldn't have ended well.

"Your brother. Our family. He predicted that another family would one day rule France—probably those vile Bourbons—and the only way to stop this is with Mary."

There was a painful realization that came to grips with her. "But the only way to depose a ruling house is by—oh." Claude visibly deflated. Catherine nodded grimly. Although marriages were sometimes used to help ease the transition of a coup, it's never bloodless.

If Francis were to lose the throne, there's no sense in thinking her children would remain unscathed. Her children, her younger sons and her daughters would be subject to scrutiny and danger. In the event of a coup, they would be seen as contenders. Their very existence would threaten the stability of he monarchy and it would be motive enough to kill them.

She needed Mary to keep her family safe.

"If you knew this all along, then why did you even allow Mary to go on this trip? We could have prevented this!"

Catherine shot Claude a sad smile. It was true, she could have prevented the trip and the entire debacle, but if she ere to risk manipulating fate enough to twist some sort of horrid outcome, a future where Francis couldn't escape death he just so narrowly avoided, Catherine had to be honest with herself. It wasn't worth the risk.

"Sometimes," she said through gritted teeth as she flashed a torch near a clearing, "it's best to simply influence fate and let it play out rather than dictating its course."

Then, as they ventured deeper into the forest, Catherine realized that there was a sound outside their group, further along the edges of the trees that she was sure it wasn't from her or the guards that surrounded her. "Claude, my dear, for years you have been branded a glorious troublemaker by everyone burdened to put up with you," she said with a hint of a smirk as she guided her daughter's hands to the dagger. "It's time to fulfill your destiny."

Claude, in return, laughed weakly. "Gladly."

Catherine adjusted her grip on the sword. "Gentlemen, it's time to put your training into good use and show these rebels as to why exactly they're going to regret abducting your Queen." There was a huff of agreement from the soldiers who, she was sure of which, were ready to battle the jaws of death for their queen who has been more than generous with them and their families.

There was a short moment before one of the rebels shot into the clearing, a loud battle cry engulfed the forest. One by one, her men charged and Catherine found herself near the lines of the trees, whispering as to not attract any unwanted attention to herself. "Mary!" she called out in hushed tones when, suddenly, from her far right was a scream from her daughter.

"Mother!" she shrieked and Catherine ran as fast as she could towards the source of the yell, only to find Claude on the ground, scared beyond belief, her hands bloodied as she tried to wake up the lifeless form of Mary. "She's not breathing!" she said in a panicked voice.

Catherine bent down and pressed her fingers against Mary's neck. She all but sighed in relief when she found a pulse. "It's weak, but it's there all the same." It was only then did Catherine realize the amount of blood that pooled around her daughter-in-law and how the metallic scent of blood wafted to their noses.

Around them, the battle grew to a stop. The guards cheered in victory. "Guards!" she yelled on top of her lungs. "Your Queen is injured, help us!"

Immediately, the guards stood around her. "She's been stabbed, Your Majesty."

Annoyed, she shot the guard a dark look. "I know that, you blithering idiot! Get a carriage and a physician now!" one of the more experienced soldiers stepped forward and commanded the group to lift Mary off the ground.

The man leading them was bearded, and in the light of the torches now circled around them, the dead of the night almost seemed like midday and if she squinted har enough, the man looked like Nostradamus as he took charge of lifting Mary out of the forest. "Remember to keep her aligned at this position," he instructed before examining injury further as they hoisted her off the ground. "Keep her back in this—"

Blood dripped into his cheek and Catherine gasped.

Catherine looked around and saw a small tree, with the torches planted around it, seemed to glow. The sky rained blood upon the young man's face and he looked at her, eerily similar to the hooded gaze her seer often gave her. Her heart hammered against her chest and she took a step back and almost fell to the ground.

"Mother?" her vision began to waiver as Claude's voice reached her ears.

"Mary's shouldered the prophecy."