"Mama, please." Beverly let out a nervous laugh, glancing over her shoulder and to Wil. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Eliza?" Will asked, ignoring Beverly's gaze. "You mean Elizabeth de Bourgh."
Margaret nodded, returning her gaze out of the window. "She was King Sanford's Mistress."
Will swallowed and looked around the room, unsure of where to let his eyes rest. Belief was so far off, yet it had struck a match of truth somewhere in his being. The duties of a queen had been Will's only reasoning for Theophania having been so absent a mother. He could not place blame on the women for the work that needed to be done, but now all Will could think was that Theophania had avoided him all his life on purpose. He was never hers and somehow, he had become hers and she resented Will for it.
She had been indifferent, cold. Everything that was something to do with Will was kept at arm's length. His begging when he was sick was the only time she had ever been there by his side. She made pies with him to keep him silent, to keep him submissive.
"My father has never had a mistress," Will got out through a dry mouth.
"Not after he banished the last one," Margaret said in agreement, though she did not look back at Will.
Will's fingers trembled and he closed his hands into fists that were slick with a cold sweat. He was back in that fountain, being held underwater and he couldn't breathe. The world was a garbled mess of buzzing sound.
"Mama, please." Beverly rose to her feet, perturbation over her features. "I'll make you some lunch and bring it up to you. How does that sound?"
"Wonderful, Bevie."
A hand took Will's arm and tried to lead him away, but his feet were nailed to the floor. The words swirled round and round in his head. His cheek was gently brushed with light fingers and Will met Beverly's dark eyes.
"She doesn't have clear memories anymore, Will," Beverly reminded softly. "She might not know what she's talking about. I wouldn't worry ab-"
"This is my life, not yours." Will somehow managed to get the words out of his mouth. "Might I stay to converse with her a touch longer?"
Beverly inhaled deeply, glancing back at her mother. She nodded and let her fingers brush over Will's cheek once more. "Don't put too much weight into her words. I beg of you." She rose to her toes to kiss Will's cheek before leaving his side and going down the stairs.
Will waited for her footsteps to hit the landing before he stepped closer to the bed where he could sit on the edge. That brought Margaret's eyes back to him and she tipped her head curiously.
"I recognize you from somewhere. How do I know you?" Will blinked several times as the conversation that had just occurred repeated once more. He opened his mouth to speak, but she swiftly cut him off. "You're King Sanford's boy." She sounded rather proud at having produced the answer. Will nodded. "You've grown up, haven't you? You're turned out so handsome. In fact, you look just like your mother."
"Elizabeth?" The word was choked as it left him.
"Yes, that was her name." Margaret nodded, a smile pulling at her thin lips. "We called her Eliza."
"We?"
"Tiffany and me. We grew up together and were the very best of friends. We got into much trouble in the palace in Rhodes. Eliza would often steal the guards' weapons and hide them in places where not even Tiffany would have been able to find them. And Tiffany was marvelous at puzzles."
"Elizabeth and you came with my mother from Rhodes when she was married, yes?"
"Oh yes." Margaret reached out and took his hand. "You're shaking. Are you alright?"
"Quite well." Will's insides twisted about like a coil of snakes. "What happened after that?"
Margaret pursed her lips in thought, returning her attention out of the window. "There was a plan."
"A plan?" Will pushed, his heart beating in his throat. "What type of plan?"
Her eyes flickered back to him, and confusion settled into them. "Who are you?"
Will's heart stuttered and he clasped up the woman's hand with his other one. "Margaret, please. What plan?"
"Who are you?" Will could see the fear in the woman's eyes, and he panicked.
"Please tell me what the plan was!" he begged in desperation. "Please!"
"Get away from me!" The shriek was piercing, and Will felt the tears race down his cheeks. "I don't know you! Get away from me!"
"Margaret?" Beverly's father's voice called from downstairs. "Is everything ok?"
"Please." The hand in his was ripped away and the air was struck from Will as a slap connected with the side of his face.
"Get away from me!"
"Will?" Footsteps were coming up the stairs. Will pushed himself to his feet and stumbled backwards and away from the bed until hands caught him. "Will, everything's ok." Beverly's assurance did not reach him. His body was growing cold and did not feel like his own. "Let's get you a cup of tea. Come on."
Will could only watch as Beverly's father did his best to settle the screaming woman down. The woman whose mind kept slipping away. The woman who held the answers Will hadn't known that he needed. The woman who would be unable to give him those answers.
"Let go of me, damn it," Will hissed, pulling away from Beverly. "Where are my things?"
"Still with the carriage," Beverly said, hurt in her tone, though it did not register with Will. "Can we please talk about-"
"Stay with your mother," Will instructed, rushing for the stairs and down them. He burst out of the cottage door and towards the carriage where Brian and James were talking, or more fighting. Will didn't much care for the conversation. He went to the back of the carriage and began tucking at the bags there.
"Will?" Brian stepped over; the fight left forgotten. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Will grumbled.
"Can we help you?" James' voice was grating.
"I can secure my own belongings, thank you." Will tugged on the items once more and groaned when they didn't budge. Without much thought, he kicked at one of the wheels of the carriage and groaned as pain shot through his foot. His hands took his hair, and he looked up at the overcast sky, breathing hard as he paced.
"Here, let me get your bag." Brian stepped over, but before he could touch the bag, his hand froze.
"Leave it alone!" Will yelled. His blood simmered and his foot ached as he continued to pace. "I can do it. I'm not a fucking child."
"We're just trying to help," James defended.
"I do not want your help!" Will spun around to face his friends who both looked hurt. James was staring at his feet and Brian wore a tight frown. "Nor do I need it!"
"Yes, Your Highness," Brian muttered. "Forgive us for intruding." He gave a curt bow and turned to leave, pulling James along with him.
Will groaned, his hands falling to his sides.
"Fuck," he hissed under his breath as he returned to trying to free his bag from the carriage. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He yanked as hard as he could, his foot going to the back of the carriage for leverage. The bag came free, and Will tumbled to the ground, the other bags falling down around him with loud thuds.
Will couldn't bring himself to get up. He lay there, staring up at the sky, breathing hard. The bag felt heavy in his hand as his fist clenched around it. All he could hear were the sounds of ocean waves and it seemed to mirror the way that his blood rushed in his ears.
It wasn't until a raindrop hit his cheek that he blinked back to where he was. He inhaled deeply, the numbness that had settled in once more giving way for the sense of the world beginning to unravel. He wasn't even pulling the string. It was coming undone around him despite how hard he tried to ignore it.
Another raindrop hit him, sending a spike of cold to the patch of skin. And another.
He didn't move as the drops became steadier and guilt ate at him as James and Brian picked up the fallen items and returned them to the carriage, before being told where they could store the horses while it rained.
A skirt appeared in the corner of his view, but he didn't let his eyes leave the swirling clouds above him.
"Come inside." Beverly's voice sounded agitated. "You'll get sick again if you stay out here."
"No, thank you." Will wasn't sure if he even spoke the words or if they just were said in his mind. He couldn't feel his mouth move, but he didn't care.
"I am not going to watch you lose your mind to fever again. Come inside."
"No, thank you."
"I am not fucking around, William Graham. You get your royal ass out of the dirt and into that home." Will finally let his head turn to the side to look over the flushed face of Beverly. Her arms were crossed, and her brows pinched. "Now."
"Please, leave me alone." Will shivered at the rainfall that was now a steady drizzling from the sky.
"You are not dying in front of me again!" Beverly shouted, throwing her arms to her sides. Will blinked in shock at the outburst. Not even in heated arguments with Hannibal had she ever raised her voice. "Now, get up and inside or so help me God, I will shove you off the bluff and mail that ribbon back to Hannibal with it tied around your heart."
"Again?" Will asked, sitting up slowly.
"Yes. You stopped breathing when you were sick, and I thought you were dead. You wouldn't wake up. And I am not letting your spoiled ass do that again. So come inside, now." Beverly let out a deep sigh, bushing damp locks from her face. "Please."
Will pushed himself to his feet, one of them giving an unkind pulse of pain. The bag was still clutched tightly in his hand, the other going to the red ribbon around his wrist. He played with it, eyes staring straight ahead in the rain.
"I would like to be alone."
"Then you can use my old room. Inside." Beverly snatched up Will's arm with a strength that he did not know she possessed. Will's body moved on its own, following the woman back into the house. Without a word, she showed him to a door on the first floor and released him. "Please do not return until you feel like you can be yourself again." The words surprised Will and he looked over her carefully, trying to take in the pain that was on her features. "I will bring you food if it takes that long, but I do not wish to see any part of you until you are well."
"Beverly, I-"
"No, Will. Do not apologize to me right now." She waved her hand to dismiss the prince's words. "It will not mean anything more than trying to escape your wrongdoing and I do not want halfhearted feelings." She motioned to the door once more and Will licked his lips, turning towards it.
He entered the room and closed the door behind it. It was small and stuffy, obviously having not been touched since Beverly had been here last. Her bed sat folded neatly and a desk that was covered in a layer of dust was shoved into a corner to create as much space in the room as was possible.
Will took the seat at the desk and opened his bag, pulling the parcel full of papers from it. The bag was tossed to the ground and Will used his sleeve to wipe at the dust across the wooden surface before placing the package on it.
The papers were ripped unceremoniously from their casing and Will began to dig through them. He looked over each one carefully before setting it aside. Several he was able to match up as pairs until he finally reached the page he had been searching for.
His heart clenched up tightly at it and he let out a steading breath that honestly did nothing to help him. His father's writing swam before his eyes. His mouth went dry. He could already feel the tears brimming in his eyes, threatening to spill over.
The rain had picked up now, crashing against the window harshly. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, sounding like his pounding heart. He could only stare at the first words on the page, unable to read further.
My Dearest Eliza
It was wrong. All wrong. It twisted his stomach. He begged to any higher power that could have been listening that this letter was fake. He wished it had been wiped away in that fire. That the desk had taken better. That his father's men had been successful in destroying whatever they had been so keen on keeping hidden.
My Dearest Eliza
"Eliza," Will said bitterly. The name was slimy as it came off his tongue. He fought the want to smash the paper up into a ball and set it aflame. "There were some curious things in these pages. I won't lie." How easy it was to pull Mason's words to him. "That one had some rather interesting information about a Lady Elizabeth de Bourgh. She was a favorite of King Sanford's. Could only begin to imagine what happened to her."
With a deep breath of courage, Will finally put his determined attention to the fullness of the letter.
My Dearest Eliza,
I find myself yearning for your presence with each passing day since you left our home. The burdens of the throne have grown heavier, and in the shadows of the royal court, our clandestine love remains my only solace. I write to you now with a heavy heart, for within the depths of our whispered confidences, I must reveal a secret that has remained hidden for far too long.
In the quiet chambers of my heart, where only you reside, there exists a truth that I can no longer keep hidden from you. I hate our son. His eyes, my dear, mirror your own. His laughter, as melodious as your voice, fills my heart with utter pain. It is like staring into your face and knowing that I will never see it again.
I have watched him grow, day by day, a copy of you. I am grateful that the responsibilities of my station have shackled me to silence, and I have been forced to conceal his true nature, for the sake of the kingdom and its stability.
I implore you to understand the agony that has consumed me, for I am torn between my love for you and my duty as a king. You deserve the world and I have failed greatly in that aspect, but I fear that bringing you home and revealing our son's identity would plunge the realm into chaos. The court is rife with whispers and schemes, and I dare not let our secrets become pawns in their treacherous games.
For now, I will keep waiting for the right time to bring you home. I dare to dream of a future where our love can be known to all, and our child can stand proudly as our legacy. Know that my love for you burns brighter with each passing day, and that the pain of our separation tears at my very soul. I await your response with bated breath.
Yours eternally,
Sandford
The paper crinkled as Will crushed it in his trembling fist. It was the truth then. After all this time, nearly everything was falling into line. So many questions given reasons. Why Theophania avoided him like black death. Why his father found it so easy to raise a hand at him. Why he was ignored and hated. Why he wasn't shown the same care as Alana showed her son.
Why Mason was so attached to the letter. Or... maybe that had just become a much larger question. Why was Mason so attached to this specific letter? He had picked it out from the stack specifically. Was it just because he knew the woman before she died?
Will's eyes widened and he looked around the room as the realization set it.
Mason knew.
Mason knew Will was illegitimate if this letter was truly real.
Mason knew that Will had no claim to the throne.
Mason knew that the only chance he had to be in line for the crown was if he married Margot.
Mason knew and could end the wedding instantaneously.
Mason knew and everything, every single little scrap of anything, was going to be leveled to the ground with a brilliant animosity that only Mason could conduct.
Will was going to be at the mercy of Mason. The moment King Molson's heart ceased beating, Will's future was going to be owned in Mason's tight grip and Mason would never release it. It would not be the same war that Sanford might have wanted, but it would no doubt be a war that Will would be fighting until death. Whether that was Mason's or his own, only time would tell.
His very role would not change, even if he was crowned king. He would stay the face of the kingdom if he were granted that option. He was a figurehead and nothing more. He was Mason's pawn and Mason would push those pieces this way and that. He would never give up his hold on Will. As painless as it would be for Mason to spill the truth, he would not.
Do you prefer to watch the fear in their person or does your delight rest in infliction?
I enjoy inflicting and you are not disappointing in that aspect.
Will would never be free of it. He was damned.
The breath left his lungs, the realization like icy water down his back.
This deplorable letter!
Will glanced down at the page in his fist. His fingers ached as he released the grip they held. The paper dropped onto the desktop and Will fell back in the chair. His mind still raced.
Had Hannibal known? Is that why he had suggested marriage? Maybe it was to secure Will in his kingdom before the secret got out. Maybe he had done it to make sure that Will never had to face what Hannibal had. Have his whole world stolen from him with a banishment. Or, as close to banishment as Will would be allowed to get.
He doubted that all his power would be stripped from him. He would become an earl or a duke or something of equal status. He would still have land and money, but the line of succession was lost to him.
Why had Hannibal not said anything to him on the matter? The longer Will spiraled the more he realized that maybe that was what Hannibal had been trying to tell him before he had departed. Maybe that was the explanation for everything. Hannibal had only been trying to rectify a problem that no one else could know of and he had done it for Will's sake, even if it had caused a rift between the two of them. Anything to keep Will safe.
Will wiped the falling tears from his cheeks and took a deep breath, once more looking around the room.
He had to decide now. He had a choice of where this life was going to take him, and he had to pick which path he would travel. He could sit back and let Mason have his way with him. Keep Margot safe and do the bidding of a deranged leviathan. Or he could stop letting the world happen to him and do something about it. He could make this life his and cut down anyone who got in his way.
Will inhaled deeply and sat up. He rose from the chair, snatching up the letter as he left the room. He wandered through the small house until he found the kitchen, where a fire was crackling with a pan of something bubbling over it.
"Will?" Beverly's voice called from somewhere else in the room. His focus stayed on the fire. He knelt, the stones hard and cold against his knees. The fire brought a warmth to his still damp clothes. "What are you doing?"
Will held the paper out to the flames until one of the edges caught. He watched as the paper was slowly eaten away in the hungry heat.
"I am securing my rightful place on this country's throne," Will answered, tossing the remaining page into the fire when it came close to singeing his fingers. "And no one is going to control me. Not anymore."