All right, here's one more chapter early. Life is going to be so crazy this weekend, I decided to post this one now before I get too busy to post. I know the story has lots of mysteries right now, but don't worry, things will make more sense soon. Thanks for all the support and hope you're still enjoying this Frary story.

Chapter Twelve: Secrets

Francis paced the hallway, reliving the horror of Mary's eyes rolling back in her head before she fainted. He'd felt so helpless and terrified after catching her limp body in his arms. Her breathing had seemed so shallow as he'd lowered Mary to the ground and cradled her head in his lap. Francis had screamed for the guards to get help but it seemed like an eternity before Nostradamus and the midwife came.

Now alone with his mother in the hallway, Francis thought of all the times he had close calls in his young life. His first real sword fight should have scared him. Tomas was an older and more experienced fighter. Yet Francis had confronted him without much thought, all to save Mary. It wasn't until after he killed the evil man that his hands started to shake. It was the same way in the battle to retake Calais. His only concern was serving his country and returning to his wife. In truth, dying didn't scare Francis very much. After all the prophesies foretelling his demise, he'd come to terms with it. However, the thought of losing Mary or their child? That terrified him.

He'd almost passed by his mother for the dozenth time but she stepped into his path and grabbed hold of his shoulders. "Francis, she's going to be fine. I'm sure it was just a fainting spell."

"Then why is it taking so long? Nostradamus should have come out and told us something by now."

She touched his cheek and his mother's knowing look nearly broke him. She was being strong for him but he recognized the worry behind her eyes. "He's probably just being thorough and I'm sure he's consulting with Mary's midwife as well."

Francis nodded and wiped a single tear off his cheek. He stood across from the door and stared, waiting for it to open, as if in a trance. When the door finally did open, he struggled for words. "Mary…how…how is she? What…what about the baby?"

The midwife smiled at him reassuringly. "Both the queen and your child are fine."

Nostradamus smiled and gave a slight nod to back up her statement.

Francis knees buckled and he nearly collapsed with relief at the news. Thankfully his mother was right next to him and grabbed onto his arm. "They're all right?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Nostradamus reassured him. "I've given Mary medication to calm her stomach. She's not eating enough, which caused her fainting spell, but with proper rest and nourishment the queen should be feeling better soon."

"Can I see her now?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." He rushed into the room with Nostradamus and his mother trailing behind. Francis wiped tears off his cheek when he saw his wife on the bed. She still looked pale but slept peacefully. One of the maids dabbed her forehead with a cool cloth but he asked for it and took over. She mumbled something as he kissed her on the cheek. "I'm here, Mary." He looked up at Nostradamus. "Has she woken up at all?"

He shook his head. "Only briefly. She's been listless and whispering strange things."

"What kind of things?"

Nostradamus moved closer and lowered his voice. "Something about Navarre…and war."

Francis' blood ran cold, suddenly having a very good idea of where Mary had disappeared to that morning. "Speak of this to no one."

"Of course. You have my word, your majesty." The seer paused and glanced at Mary's tapestry hanging on the wall across from the bed. He blinked hard and gulped, appearing troubled at the sight of it. "The wall hanging…is it new?"

Francis nodded. "It's something Mary made while we were away."

Nostradamus approached the opposite wall and ran his fingers over the tapestry's intricate stitching. "It's beautiful. Is it the new chateau?"

An eerie feeling entered his stomach. "Yes," he answered and waited for the other man to respond but he never did. "Nostradamus… is something wrong?"

The seer finally turned away from the tapestry and shook his head. "No. It's nothing. Just make sure Mary eats better. She needs to keep up her strength. I'll stay at court for the next few days in case she needs anything." Nostradamus grabbed his bag of medications, shared an odd silent exchange with Catherine and retreated to the hallway.

Francis wasn't about to let him escape that easily. He stood and turned to his mother. "Will you stay with Mary for a few minutes?"

"Yes, of course." She took the wet cloth from him before taking his spot on the edge of Mary's bed.

Francis rushed out the door. "Nostradamus," he called and caught up with him by the stairwell. The other man turned with fear radiating through his eyes and Francis knew something was wrong. The seer was hiding something from him and he wouldn't rest until discovering the truth.

…

Mary woke up disoriented in the dark and reached for her abdomen. Thoughts of her past miscarriage raced through her thoughts. "No! Please…no…"

"Shh…everything's fine Mary," Francis whispered and sat up beside her, placing his hand over hers.

"But the baby…"

"She's fine and growing right on schedule. Your midwife and Nostradamus reassured me of that."

Mary breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed against her pillow. "Oh, thank goodness." Her relief was quickly replaced with fear when she remembered her conversation with Conde. She gulped down a lump in her throat and gathered courage. "Francis, I did something you won't like. I went and talked to Louis. I thought I could talk him out of the alliance with Elizabeth, but his mind is made up."

Her husband drew his hand away from hers and remained silent for a moment. She couldn't make out his expression in the dim candlelight, but when he finally spoke, his voice sounded low and flat. "There is nothing you could have done. It's clear the Bourbons want the French throne."

"I know. Can you ever forgive me for going behind your back? I thought it was the only way to…"

"Of course," he whispered and brushed some hair out of her face. "There's nothing to forgive really. Although, I hope you won't try anything like that again…at least while you're pregnant. The stress isn't good for the baby…or for you…" His voice wavered and he hung his head.

Mary's heart melted as she caressed his cheek. It was soaked with tears. "Francis, what is it?"

He put a trembling hand over hers. "It's been a long and trying day. Everything's fine, my love."

"No, it's not. You're crying."

"Tears of joy that you're all right."

"Francis…tell me the truth."

He paused and a sigh escaped his lips. "When you collapsed in my arms…I was forced to imagine a life without you. It was horrible. I wouldn't want to live in a world where you didn't exist."

Mary sat up and wrapped her arms around Francis as his body trembled against hers. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.

They shared a kiss, and he framed her face in his hands. "I know…because I'll never allow that to happen."