Yes, Guest. Felice is missing. Milady afflicted her with the same drug that she used on the musketeers back in Venice. Why did she take Felice, you ask? Because, the musketeers are in the way of the Cardinal usurping the throne. He wanted them to have a distraction.
Oh, and I will be introducing a new character soon!
Thousands of meters above the French countryside morphing into the English Channel, Buckingham's warship glided in the wind for his fortress in the capital of his homeland. The duke and Milady were having a luscious dinner, not to mention crafty behavior. Everything was sliding into place on schedule!
Deep in the ship's hull, stored away with transported goods and crates, a young woman lay on a raised pallet, guarded by four soldiers. A blanket covered her fevered body, she writhed with chills. Her stomach was an ocean itself of absolute misery, her head an equally taxing whirlwind. She was sure that she was going to puke any minute now, and she couldn't get any relief from her pounding headache. The world kept rocking around her, like a small rowboat on choppy seas, and every time she tried to shift around to steady it, she felt even sicker.
What...is going on?! She thought, confused and feeling downright rotten. How...why won't it stop spinning? I...feel sooo...ohh, stop moving already! Speaking aloud only made her feel worse and her joints ached.
Light footsteps could be faintly heard approaching down the ladder. Felice didn't bother to try and see who it was. But she could feel the essence of another human closely standing next to her. "There now." A gentle voice spoke quietly as a beautiful but fuzzy face stood over her. "This should help to soothe your troubled tummy."
"Where...who…" Felice grunted, but even speaking made bile rise up her throat.
"Shh. Drink." Milady whispered, bringing a cup to the girl's lips. Felice forced herself to sip and swallow, but as soon as she did, she arched her back, the disagreeing effects inside trying to pour out of her throat.
"I...I…" She sputtered, before leaning over her makeshift bed and vomiting on the floor. The taste inside her mouth was hideous and she had to lie back down.
"There, there." Milady crooned. "We will set you to rights when the time is appropriate. And then you won't feel so awful."
"Want...be...home…" Felice grunted, biting her tongue to keep from retching again so quickly.
"I understand." Milady nodded. "Try to rest, child. Once we reach English soil, you shall be feeling much better."
That voice...she'd heard it before, but...when was that? Yesterday? A few hours ago? Days ago? Something about that genteel voice had been associated with right before she had fallen into this wretched physical state. "Who...are...Ch-Charles...where am...where is he?"
"Oh, don't fret, sweetling. He will come for you. You can count on that." Milady whispered, smoothing out Felice's sweaty hair.
"Soon?" Felice croaked, hugging her sickly stomach.
"Soon. Now then, go back to sleep, dear. Sleep...sleep, love...sleep."