The pair made their way down to the throne room, the feast in full swing when they arrived. They took their seat a little ways down the table from the royal family. Queen Catherine was seated at King Henry's right, Prince Frances at his left. His fiance, Queen Mary of Scotland, sat beside him. Mona found herself wondering if they'd told her. Though Queen Mary was laughing at some joke her fiance had just told, Mona swore she caught her eyes scanning the crowd.

"Relax," she heard Bash whisper in her ear as he rubbed the small of her back. She could barely feel it through the corset, but it was reassuring nonetheless. "If you don't look like you're having fun, you'll blow the whole plan. This is your first royal event of many, please try to have some fun tonight."

She gave a fake laugh, trying to follow Queen Mary's example. As the night went on, they ate and made conversation with their neighbors.

"I haven't seen you around before. I'm Lola."

"Mona," she replied. "You're from Scotland, right? One of Queen Mary's ladies?"

"Correct," she smiled. "And you? I've met many of the nobles, but you're a new face."

"I'm from a small village not far from here."

"She's my betrothed," Bash explained. "She was a servant here, for a short time."

"Well, look at you now! Not all of us ladies were born into nobility either. Greer's family had a stroke of good luck in the mines and now, she's in France."

"I heard my name?" Greer turned around to face Lola, sitting on her other side, then turned white as a sheet as she recognized Mona.

"Greer, Mona. Mona, Greer," Lola said as a way of introduction.

"We've met. Lovely to see you again, Lady Greer," she smiled warmly at her.

"Yes, likewise. Last I saw you, you were a serving girl," she looked at her quizzically.

Mona pulled out Bash's ring from its hiding place. "I'm Bash's fiance. He needs to have the gem rehoused, but for the moment," she held up the leather chord in explanation.

"I see."

"Yes! I was just telling Mona here how your family hit a stroke of luck, and now you're at French court, looking for a husband," Lola continued. "I know how you hate it when we bring that up, but if anything, the two of you are prime examples that blood doesn't make the noble," she looked at her, her eyes apologetic.

Greer shook her head. "It's because it makes me feel lesser than, but I suppose if you put it that way…"

"I think yours a greater success than my own. Your family worked hard and earned their way up. Good luck like that means lots of hard work went into your success. I fully stumbled into this by sheer dumb luck and flirting with the first pretty boy that caught my eye," she snickered.

"Prettyboy, am I?" Bash smirked, raising a brow.

"You and Nocturn both, yes. A pretty boy with a pretty horse," she nodded.

He chuckled, remembering the moment they met.

"A pretty horse?" Greer asked with a laugh.

"She wandered into the stables on her first day and thought I was the stable master. Nocturn is my horse. She walked in right after I'd come back from a hunt, saw me brushing him, and drew her own conclusions," he explained.

"And someone didn't correct me when I asked them point-blank," she countered, elbowing him in the side. As she turned her head back towards the head of the table, her eyes locked onto the servant she'd seen. Her blood ran cold as ice. She took a deep breath, fixed her lips into a tense smile, then acted as though she was reaching for her glass. Thankfully, as she wasn't used to the excess fabric of the sleeves, she didn't have to fake the accident of knocking over her glass. It fell over, clattering on the ground, drawing everyone's attention. She frantically apologized as she stood. Bash, however, turned his gaze toward Frances. He watched as the servant poured what looked like a white powder into his brother's goblet. Henry had been forcing his gaze towards the commotion and, without moving his head, looked to Bash, who nodded. Henry then stood, commanding everyone's attention back from the commotion happening on their end.

"Sebastian?"

Bash nodded toward the assassin, who was immediately seized by the guards as Henry wordlessly pointed to him.

"Hey! Let me go! What's going on?" he shouted as he tried to wriggle out of the guards' grip fruitlessly.

"What is going on is you have committed treason. You attempted to poison my son, my heir."

"I didn't do nothin'," he screamed.

"Then you won't mind drinking from the prince's own goblet," he gestured and a third guard took Frances's goblet, bringing it to the prisoner. He fought as the wine was poured down his throat.

Mona found herself unable to look away, despite the morbid scene in front of her. Her life depended on a deadly outcome and she hated it, but it was his life or hers and Prince Frances's, and she chose herself. Within moments, he began to convulse and foam at the mouth before dropping to the stone floor. Her eyes were drawn to the sudden motion as the ambassador for Austria stood up quite suddenly and tried to flee the room, only for the pair of guards by the door to grab an arm each to drag him to the king.

"Leaving so soon? We have a witness of your colluding with this servant to poison my son. As that witness has now been proven to be telling the truth, you'll be executed at dawn. We'll be informing Austria of your betrayal first thing tomorrow morning and the resulting punishment. Take him away."

The guards dragged him off as he screamed. "Die Protestanten werden sich erheben! Was kommt, können Sie nicht aufhalten!"

"What did he say?" Bash whispered to her.

"The protestants will rise. You cannot stop what is coming," she translated, her mouth in a hard line.

"Mona," Henry beckoned her toward him. She stood, walking toward him hesitantly. "You have proven yourself loyal to your country and are engaged to my son, so I think it only fitting that we give you a title. From this day onward, you are Lady Mona of the French court."

"Thank you, m'lord," she curtsied as people applauded, her knees shaking as the fear continued to vibrate throughout her body.

"Now," he dismissed her with a wave, "back to the festivities!"

Mona returned to her seat between Bash and Lola.

"Look at you! You're officially titled now," Lola said excitedly.

"I'm guessing from the king's speech that you were the informant?" Greer asked, to which she nodded.

"She overheard the two plotting," he explained before turning to Mona. "You never did explain. How is it you came to speak German?"

"There was an old woman in our village who fled Germany when her city was set ablaze. She'd lost her family in the fires. Since she couldn't fend for herself, I brought her food. During my visits, she taught me German. I'm no expert, but I know enough to carry a conversation."

"How did the word for poison come up in your conversations?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"When we didn't have any extra food to give, I'd teach her what berries were safe to eat while we'd forage together. When I pointed out a poisonous one, she'd say 'gift'," She smiled fondly at the memory. "It took me a few times before I caught on."

"Well, that certainly came in handy," he chuckled.

"That, it did," she agreed.

The following morning, Bash rose early, heading down to the throne room.

"Good morning," his father greeted him, holding out a sparring sword by the tip.

"Good morning, Father," he accepted it, then took his first swing, which was promptly blocked.

"That girl of yours," he kicked him, pushing him a few feet back, but still standing. "I may have been wrong about her. She may be useful yet," he said, taking a swing.

Bash sidestepped it, countering with a strike to his side, only for Henry to roll out of the way.

"I think she's been more useful than you may have realized."

"How so?" the king asked as the pair circled each other.

"Have you tried the kitchen's lavender pasties?" He lunged, but Henry jumped back.

"I have. What of them?" he swung, but his blade locked with Bash's again.

"Her idea. She thought the visitors would like a-," he shoved with all his weight and grunted, "taste of France."

His father flew backward but quickly recovered. "Really?" he asked surprised, readying for his next attack.

Bash nodded, watching for any tell that would indicate his father's next move. "Lavender and honey, good for sleep and recovering from illness. She used her knowledge," he jumped back, "from working with Nostradamus. She presented the idea to her brother," he took a swipe, managing to get a hit in on Henry's side, causing him to let out a groan, "who works in the kitchen."

Henry quickly countered, sweeping Bash's legs, causing him to land on the cold stone floor. He stood over him, his sword pointed at his chest. "Not even of royal blood and already thinking like a diplomat," he nodded in approval, then leaned down to help Bash up.

Bash groaned. "Dirty move,"

"Nobody fights fair on the battlefield," he pointed out.

"I'll take what you've told me into consideration. Let me know if she has any other ideas like that."

"Of course," he replied, rubbing his lower back.