DramaBox
Chapter 3
I awoke, dazed and aching, to find myself within the royal castle once more.
The queen, seeing me stir, sighed with relief. “Edmund was too harsh,” she said. “Even if he sought to defend Eleanor, he should not have scourged you so. The physicians say your ability to bear children was nearly lost”
Her voice grew heavy with sorrow. Should your womb fail, and we yet need you to bear Edmund’s heir, what then? The boy lacks discernment.”
my heart
I bowed my head, chitching the coverlet, despair grawing at my
The queen,pleased by my meekness, patted my hand. “Rest here and heal, child. With me near, Edmund shall not harm you farther. Once Eleanor bears a child, I vow you shall return to Eldwood with honor.”
I shivered within, but forced a faint smile. “As you will, Your Majesty.”
For a month I mended in the castle, while Edmund and Eleanor’s wedding preparations neared completion.
Palace maids whispered as they worked.
They spoke of Eleanor, shaken by her ordeal, and how Edmund, heedless of his own frailty, kept vigil at her side, brewing her herbal draughts and feeding her by hand.
To ease her discomfort, unable to bathe, he gently wiped her brow and limbs.
Fearing the bitterness of her remedies, he scoured Crownhold for sweetmeats, keeping them ever at her bedside
I recalled my past life, when Edmund’s shove nearly cost me my child. Bedridden, 1 could not move. He ordered servants to carry me to an outlying wing.
“My strength is yet forble,” he said coldly. “I’ve no duty to tend you. Nor will 1 suffer the rock of healing draughts fouling my chambers.”
For a month I lived there, preserving my pregnancy, my body marred by sores
Edmund never came.
Then, I thought only of his illness, believing I must be dutiful, sparing him burden.
Now, I saw the truth: he could care, but would not–not for me.
I sighed, mourning the heart I’d poured into him, pitying his frailty, all for naught
Perhaps the joy of wedding his beloved in this new life lifted his spirits, Edmund’s wasted frame grew radiant, his strength returning day by day.
It seemed, as he had boasted, that three months would see him whole.
Physicians urged camion, pleading for rest, but Edmund scoffed, overseeing his wedding plans himself
To delight Eleanor, he took her hunting and on moonlit rides through Crownhold’s fields.
As his health appeared to mend, the queen’s gaze upon me shifted–from hope to indifference. The fear that had gripped me began to loosen Then came the day she summoned me. I felt a quiet certainty.
The queen sipped her wine, per voice calm. “I had thought to bind you to Edmund, but fate has decreed otherwise. I owe you a match. Today, Sir Roland’s mother sought my favor, asking that you be granted to lier son.”
Though I told her the tales of your blessed fertility–how you might sustain a dying man–are but rumors, she insists you wed her son to try. What say you?”
Relief washed over me. I melt, touching my forehead to the floor. “I thank Your Majesty. I am willling.”
That day on Crownhold’s streets, I saw the coffin, its carved oak stirring memories of my past life. Edmund, in his wrath, had sealed me in a stranger’s
That very collin, I now knew, belonged to Sir Roland
Hearing the townsfolk’s laments, a plan had formed. If a valiant light, struck down for king and country, needed a bride to secure his line, might the
queen not send me to him?
That night, I had sought Sir Roland’s mother, revealing my identity and offering to wed her son, to bear his heir,
I knew the city’s rumors might sway her to cast me out. Yet she did not. Tears in her eyes, she clasped my hand
“Good child, be it true or false, I cannot let a maiden such as you wed only to keep a widow’s vigil‘
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I pressed my
and at last, cholding
dng with emotion, she said, “Let me consider.
Now, it was done
The quern, well pleased, looked upon me with newfound warmth.
Sir Roland had served the realm, now felled by wounds and fever. If the crown offered no recompense, the court and commons would grow restive.
Yet what reward could match his sacrifice? This had vexed the queen.
Now, with his mother’s plea and my consent, she was eager to grant it,
My obedience had eased her burden, resolving a a thorny matter.
She rose, lifting me with her own hands. “Good child, I’ll not rush you into marriage. Tomorrow, I shall name you Lady of Eldwood, and grant you a dowry worthy of a princess, including lands and treasures to mark the occasion of
your union
“Wed? To whom?” Edmund’s startled volce rang from behind us.
The queen turned, surprised. “Why, to”
“I swore I’d not wed her!” he cut in. “Even if you spared her womb and granted her titles, my heart belongs to Eleanor alone. I’ll take no other, ever”
The queen sighed. “Peace, Edmund, she-”
“You shall be a grandmother!” he declared.
The queen froze. “What say you?”
Edmund’s face shone with uncontained joy.
*Eleanor is with child, a month along, conceived when I brought her to the manor guesthouse. Those physicians, with their dire warnings of my frailty and barrenness, were wrong. They said I’d not live three months!”
He gestured to himself. “See how my strength returns. Today, I rode alongside Eleanor to the western meadows–three hours on horseback–and felt no weariness.”
He beamed. “The manor’s healer confirmed it–Eleanor carries my heir.”
His eyes gleamed with triumph. “You need not bind me to Margaret for heirs. Send her away, lest she harbor false hopes.”
He glanced at me, his look laced with mockery. “Margaret, I told you I’d heal. Your fertility is no divine gift. I was ever meant to mend, and any woman could bear my child. What have you to say now?”
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